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  1. I haven't actually seen "Frozen" yet. Movie's been out awhile, but I've been busy. But I can tell you chapter and verse what HAPPENS, oh yeah. And the snowman is named Olaf. And it's an allegory for bein' gay. Except when it isn't. And it's a feminist fable. Except when it's an allegory for oppression of women. And best of all, you can have "Frozen" cereal for breakfast, "Frozen" Campbell's soup for lunch, and a "Frozen" frozen dinner for dinner, and in between, you can play with enough "Frozen" toys to recreate the entire movie, before finally going to bed on "Frozen" sheets, pillowcases, and comforter! I am starting to dislike a movie I have never actually seen. It's happened before, too. I didn't WANT to hate "E.T." It came naturally, though. The movie came out in 1982, and I went and saw it in a theatre. I thought it was a bit kid flavored for my taste, but not a bad movie at all; rather liked it. And I forgot about it about ten minutes after I walked out of the theatre. "Star Wars," it wasn't. For about a month, everything was OK. And then, the happy meal toys appeared. And the collectible set of glasses. And the marketing tie-in with Reese's Pieces. And the coloring books. And the toilet paper. And the sheets. And the windup toys. And the cereal. And... for something over a year to 25 months, I literally could not go out in public without having ET shoved down my throat in some form or fashion. Staying home didn't help. They attached ET to anything they thought might possibly sell better with a frog-faced alien on it. Reese's Pieces' sales went stratospheric, and everybody else wanted a piece of the action. I literally couldn't watch a half hour sitcom without seeing some commercial with a clip from the movie in which ET was trying to sell me anything from hair conditioner to brake fluid. And one day, I turned on the radio, and Neil Diamond of all people sang, "Turn on your heart-liiiight..." and I literally jumped back from the radio in horror. No, NO, NOT HERE, TOO! And the [expletive deleted] song went gold, and they played the fraggin' thing every five minutes, and I literally went out and bought my first Sony Walkman so I could listen to music without having ET stuffed into my poor ears. I wondered in calm horror, did they pay Neil Diamond to sing an ET song, or was he so wild about the movie that he wrote and sang the fraggin' thing out of sheer enthusiasm for the Culture God that was ET? The phenomenon was that saturated in the fraggin' culture. To live in America was to eat, breathe, drink, and sleep ET. And to this day, if the thing comes on TV, I'll change the channel as fast as I can reach the remote. I've only seen the actual movie twice, but after a couple of years of marinating in the cultural phenomenon 30 years ago, I'm marked for life. Pavlov's dogs drooled, and I flee ET. I mourn "Conan The Barbarian." I didn't want to dislike "Conan." I really liked it when I went to go see it in the theatre. But later, my roommates and I splurged for cable with ALL the premium channels, and that night, we made popcorn and prepared for the SHOW. And we clicked on HBO. What's on? "Conan The Barbarian," with Arnold Schwarzenegger. How about it, guys? Meh. Seen it. What else? Showtime! They try harder! What's on? James Earl Jones? No, Thulsa Doom.... in the middle of "Conan the Barbarian." Ah. Well. What else? Cinemax! Awesome! The Home Nudity Network! What have they got? Ah. "Conan The Barbarian." A couple of months later, we had the cable company pull the premium channels. And for 25 years, I haven't been able to watch "Conan The Barbarian." It's especially bad with songs, though. I don't hate "All About The Bass." Not yet. Or "Take Me To Church." I'm getting there, though. But they haven't been ramrodded HARD enough yet. I don't walk into stores and hear it blasting at me through the sound system yet. And they haven't coopted the song for commericials. Yet. So far, I can escape from it by simply twisting a knob. Not so "Elvira." Not the erstwhile Mistress Of The Dark, Bad Movies, and Cleavage. Her, I still like. But the song of the same name by the Oak Ridge Boys, I cannot stand. Because once again, back in the 80s, something went wrong with reality, and the dumbest song ever written became legally mandated to play on every broadcast medium, nonstop. "Ail-VAH-ruh, ah oom poppa, oom poppa mau mau, Ail-VAH-ruh..." There were days I kept the Walkman headphones clamped on my skull nonstop, to keep the earworms OUT. There was no ESCAPING it. At least one radio station in central Texas played the [expletive deleted] thing four times an hour. I heard it leaking from car windows, in sandwich shops, walking down the street... it Would. Not. Stop. To the point where I finally snapped, and killed that one guy who was walking down the street singing, "...oom poppa mau mau, oom poppa, oom poppa, oom poppa mau mau..." Yup. Snapped. Shrieked like a banshee with kidney stones, and with strength borne of sheer wrath, I uprooted a STOP sign and beat him to death with it, right there on the street corner. I'm lying, of course. I gritted my teeth and kept walking. But it was a near thing. Anyone else got a tale of a thing that may or may not have started out as a good thing... until sheer involuntary immersion in it threatened to make you crazy?
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