Post-catum Depression

Grief can make people do strange things. Things they would never normally do. Things they later regret. Last night, while mourning the loss of my furry friend, Suzy, I did something I’m not proud of. I went to see Ghost Rider.

Now before you call the local mental health authorities, let me explain. I had to get out of the apartment because I’d been sitting around all day wallowing in pain. Everywhere I look in this place I see something that reminds me of Suzy. I couldn't swing a dead cat in here without hitting something that reminds me of my dead cat. I spilled some muffin crumbs on the carpet yesterday, and when I grabbed the vacuum cleaner I immediately teared up when I thought about how Suzy hated that machine even more than I do. On the rare occasions when I did vacuum, Suzy would immediately scurry away and hiss angrily if I came anywhere near her with it. I’m sure it would irk her to no end to know that her mortal enemy had out-lasted her.

Anyway, I figured that the best way to feel better in the short term would be get out of the apartment and distract myself with a movie. I didn’t want anything serious or emotionally resonant, so that eliminated Pan’s Labyrinth or Zodiac, which would have been the sort of thing I’d normally see, but emotionally fragile children or grieving families was not at all what I needed. If ever there was a time for escapist entertainment, this was it.

Nicolas Cage and Peter Fonda realize they have a lot in common.
First and foremost - a need to fire their agents.

Long story short, Ghost Rider was drivel. Utter and absolute twaddle. And exactly what I needed.

This is the kind of movie where Sam Elliot tells Nicolas Cage he’ll be safe in the graveyard because the demons who’re after him can’t enter hallowed ground. Then, ten minutes later, where do we see those same demons? In a church.

This is the kind of movie that never stops to ask why exactly does the devil need a bounty hunter anyway?

This is the type of movie where the stunningly gorgeous Eva Mendes pines for a decade over her childhood sweetheart, then drops everything to take a chance on him again when he re-appears in her life. We see her waiting in a restaurant in a low-cut dress which would make the hair in Nicholas Cage’s toupee stand on end. And yet, when he doesn't show up she acts like an insecure pre-teen girl, grabs the nearest waiter and asks him “You think I’m pretty, right?” I mean, WTF?!?!?! And if that wasn’t absurd enough, the waiter responds to her question with an indifferent shrug that implies she’s nothing special to look at. I would have walked out of the theatre at that point under normal circumstances.

Eva Mendes comes to the shocking realisation that she is appearing in the movie Ghost Rider.

It feels good to be thinking about this sort of trivial crap instead of mourning the loss of my faithful fuzzy companion. If I start to feel too sad at any point this weekend, I think I’ll go see Wild Hogs. That should fill me with enough film snob indignation to carry me until Easter.

"What's my motivation?
Oh wait, I just remembered. It's money."

The Five Stages Of Grief

1. Denying you went to see Ghost Rider
2. Anger over paying to see Ghost Rider
3. Bargaining to get your money back after watching Ghost Rider
4. Depression after watching Ghost Rider
5. Accepting that you wasted two hours of your life on Ghost Rider