Do Not Ask Why Wolfman Kills People While Watching Wolfman at the Theater for All to Hear

Sigh.

Minority. That's right, I am addressing one of us right now.

Here we go.

Side Note: Sometimes, I just ask myself, "Why?"

The following is a true Story.

You know who you are. You were in the theater this weekend, watching Wolfman. Right after the Wolfman kills his first victim, you yelled, "Oh my gawd, why the Wolfman had to kill that man!" It was like a whistling arrow shot across the theater, everybody heard.

I winced. My shoulder crouched up to my ear. My head creaked, swiveled backward, and I glared at you.

There you were, seated right behind me.

Side Note: I have a knack for picking the seat closest to the peanut gallery.

Minority, let alone the fact that you screeched, "Oh, shiiiiit," whenever the Wolfman killed someone or appeared on the screen--the only apt response for such a paltry script-writing to be sure, however, let us remember our manners. I would also like to omit the constant murmuring that were your enlightened takes on the Wolfman narrative wafting over my right shoulder throughout the night.

These were the lesser concerns.

I would like to point out the disregard that you have for your neighbor, not the inanity of your comment. Because you know how silly your comment is, right? You know, that I know, that you know, I hope, why the Wolfman kills people... Right? Let me reiterate. He is a Wolfman.

Jesus!

My bet is not that you did not know this reason, but that you, for some reason, felt the need to massage your need for attention, a need often promulgated in a minority when inside theaters, apparently.

Why, oh why, did so many minorities erupt in their own fits of shock, dismay, disapproval offense and/or pleasure at pivotal moments of movies while at theaters. Sometimes, minorities, it seems that we are intent on having full conversations with the screen.

Asking a minority to not speak in theaters may be a difficult charge. I know this. I have problems dealing with this too.

So, to compromise.

Minorities, if you must talk loudly in theaters, whether it be to the screen, to your neighbor, to the theater, or into your cellphone, please don't ask inane questions like, "Why the wolfman had to kill that man?," because everybody will think we are not smart enough to go to more challenging cultural institutions, like museums.

That said, when a movie is inane, I highly recommend watching the movie in a theate full of minorities. Trust me, if you haven't done it before, wait no longer. Noting but hilarity.

Talk on Your Cell Phone in the Subway

I am so vexed right now.

Minorities! Please!

Stop talking on your cell phones in the subway.

Now, like many a straphanger, I like to read the paper, and some literature, especially if its a long commute, on my way to work and back home. But, for those of you who feel the same way that I do, tell me, how does it feel to get into the groove of an article or an essay or a book, only to be interrupted by somebody who decides to pick up their phone. And why is it too, that the phone is often a walkie-talkie phone. Unlike a regular phone call, a walkie-talkie phone boasts a beeping function to announce the successful transmittal of a message, and you are not left to wonder what the other party is saying, no no no, dear straphanger, you can leave your imagination behind, the phone announces publicly all that the missing interlocutor states using a speaker function. Why I need to know Javier's latest philanderings is not only beyond me, it frustrates me. And why you'd want to make this public, I have no idea!

Altogether, the amount of interruptions such phone calls cause can be responsible, more than religion, for stunting the progress of humanity. Who knows what societal problems could have been solved, how many diseases cured, how many inspired pieces of prose and art created, if it were not for that infernal beep, those eye-twitch inducing updates on what you are going to do in cohoots with your girl to Javier for cheating on you.

What's worst is that in return of my glare i get a look of disbelief and frustration, as if I were the nuisance. Ay Dios Mio!

If the MTA and whatever other invested corporations are succesful in their plans to make all of the subway cell phone ready--read: all underground lines--straphangers, be ready for a return to the dark ages. We shall be ruled by a insouciant band of leaders who transmit edicts via mass-message over walkie-talkie phones, and not only will we acknowledge that massive beep in unison as our call to arms to get Javier for disrespecting our girl, we will know that beep as God.

Oh, and don't pick up the phone to tell someone that you can't talk to them because you are on the subway. "The reception is bad, we might get cut off. But let's talk until then....hello.....hello....hello....hello." That's just irksome to all parties involved, you, your caller and your fellow straphangers.

Minorities, please stop talking on your phones in the subway, because everybody is just gonna think that you are inconsiderate and not worthy of joining the ranks of the civilized.

How will you get that job?

Of course, not just minorities do this, but again, fellow minorities, I'm only concerned about you. Thank me later. Ciao.