Peen Simmons
Let’s Get Obtuse!
I’ll watch anything remotely spooky and usually get some pleasure from it—even from the analysis of a substandard horror flick. But last year I curated a week of well-regarded arty, moody horror classics for home viewing and my lovely wife pooh poohed EVERY SINGLE ONE as irredeemably dumb/hackneyed/boring/ridiculous. Now I’m afraid to watch spooky films in my own home because of the CURSE OF THE BUZZ KILLER.
She also has a very low opinion of rock and/or roll. And you cannot even mention Mr. Springsteen’s name in her presence without prompting a full body eye roll. And Mr. Loaf — get out and stay out. I’m trapped inside with Flamencology’s hot older sister. It’s nothing but foreign films, vintage country, and lit fic up in here.
She also has a very low opinion of rock and/or roll. And you cannot even mention Mr. Springsteen’s name in her presence without prompting a full body eye roll. And Mr. Loaf — get out and stay out. I’m trapped inside with Flamencology’s hot older sister. It’s nothing but foreign films, vintage country, and lit fic up in here.