Dun-dun-dun dun-dun…. Dun-dun-dun dun-dun…
A week ago, I bored you all with tales of my attempts to turn my stepson on to good, classic punk rock. We’re making progress, thankfully, but still have a ways to go.
Dun-dun-dun dun-dun…
Thing is, though, that I might have misunderestimated exactly how much learnin’ the boy needed. Seems his musical education might be the least of our concerns.
Dun-dun-dun dun-dun…
Last weekend, I had a little bit of down time and spent part of the evening flipping through the 4.7 million channels Comcast bequeaths upon us. I rounded past the Sci-Fi Channel and was heading toward ESPN when I heard that familiar music….
Dun-dun-dun dun-dun… Dun-dun-dun dun-dun…
I don’t know about you folks, but there are some movies I’ll stop on every single time I catch a glimpse on TV. Doesn’t matter if I’ve seen them more times than God. Movies like The Shawshank Redemption…
or The Wrath of Khan…
or anything with Bruce Campbell…
or The Matrix (but only the first one, because the second two were oh-so-awful that I nearly disavowed any knowledge of the original once the fucking Wachowskis let their greed get in the way of telling a good story by polluting our minds with that filth).
Or, of course, the one TNT was playing that day: Terminator 2.
Soon as I saw The Governator, I stopped, threw down the remote, and picked up my McTarnahan’s, pleased with the knowledge that I wasn’t going anywhere (at least not until the next commercial break).
A few minutes later, we get to the scene where Arnie, Sarah, John, and black-scientist-whose-work-leads-to-the-creation-of-Skynet are busting into the lab, getting reading to fuck up BSWWLTTCOS’s work in hopes that it’ll prevent the impending destruction of human kind (the one caused by the machines, not the Bush administration).
So just as Arnold’s about to blow open the vault, Renny walks in. Sarah and John duck for cover as the vault door is blowned-the-fuck-up, Arnold’s stand-in, um, stands there, just lookin’ cool, as the debris flies around him.
Boy
Why’s that one dude just standing there?
Our Hero
(Blinks, says nothing)
Boy
Why didn’t he get out of the way like everyone else?
Our Hero (In his best why-are-you-asking-something-you-should-already-know tone)
Wha..? Um, because he’s a robot…
Boy
Oh… Ok.
Our Hero (Dumbfounded)
He’s a Terminator? Cyberdyne systems model 101? Sent back from the future to save John Connor’s punk ass so you can live long enough to have your own kids ask you stupid questions?!? Have you never seen this movie?
Boy (Knowing Our Hero will soon force him to watch yet another movie* he has no interest in in the near future…)
Sigh… No…
Our Hero
Oh, bloody Hell. I’m sorry. Clearly, I’ve failed you as a parent. Clear your schedule this week. We’re watching The Terminator and Terminator 2 (but not that third one, because it belongs in the burn pile with those two Matrix movies and all the fans of Moulin Rouge).
(*Note: The last movies I made him watch against his will were the three Indiana Jones flicks. Thankfully, he admitted enjoying them afterward. Otherwise, he’d be in an African orphanage praying to God that the brown-baby fad ended soon.)
