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brian-mcgee - April 27, 2018

December 1996. My time at home is getting close to its end as I'm now halfway through my senior year of high school. Dad and I decide to go see Mars Attacks! as it features several actors we like, namely Jack Nicholson, and my dad remembered the trading cards from his own childhood.

In those days, going to the movies involved either phoning the theater and listening to a recording of all the showtimes—a daunting task were you calling the tenplex—or you could check the paper. The paper said the movie was at 7, so we showed up around 6:45-ish. Turns out, the next showing was at 7:30, so we decided to get the tickets and just wait outside the theater for the previous show to let out.

The doors open and people begin exiting the theater. Among them is a dad with his son, who was around ten or so, and the dad says, out loud, "Ah, I was really sad when Jack Nicholson died... both times!"

"What the fuck did he just say?" My dad says to me in a desperate attempt to get me to join him in a gang up on this guy.

"He just spoiled the movie for us and everyone else out here and apparently doesn't care because there he goes."

"Hey fuck you asshole!" My dad screams in the general direction of where this man and his young son were, feeling that he had done his civic duty. This is New Jersey after all, and a "Hey fuck you asshole" is basically the equivalent of "Welcome to our fair state."

My dad still talks about this and how this asshole ruined his night out at the movies with his son. I remember this much more vividly than anything in Tim Burton's utterly forgettable comedy.

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