Corn Rows

Thursday night and Mark is watching some movie about an antman. In fact it may be called Antman. All I know is that it sucks. Michael Douglas is in it and they show him as a younger man, and the way you know he is a younger man is the fact that his face looks like it is made of Playdoh and his hair is black. Obviously they used a cheap version of CGI. Besides the horrible script and crappy acting in the movie, the laws of physics are constantly broken. How do the shrunken people breath when a molecule of oxygen is bigger than their lungs? So I left the room. Instead of watching this horrible movie with Mark, I snuck out of the room using the excuse that Chandler needed to go out because he had barked. I took him into the kitchen and gave him a cookie to shut him up. That would be Chandler, not Mark. I do feel a little guilty for leaving the movie. I left my friend of over forty years alone with Mark, watching that movie. Poor Rudy, he's ninety two years old, hard of hearing, his eyesight isn't the greatest, his memory is a bit scrambled, and I left him alone with Mark and a bad movie.

I brought Rudy up to our house for a couple of days just to give him a change of scene. You see he's been rotting out in the suburbs for the last eight months after moving up here from Florida. Horrible, horrible suburbs with those blocks of brick townhouses and brick apartment buildings. Just row upon row of brick boxes. And when Rudy does get out of the house, all there is are miles and miles of strip malls, chain restaurants, and more strip malls. It is boring out there, it is stifling out there, and it is dull. I know this first hand, because Rudy is living where I grew up. Well kind of where I grew up. The actual place where he lives was a corn field when I left town.