LogFAQs > #961995617

Imagine being so cloistered in the dregs of a gaming website's movie forum that you have to emerge once a year like Puxatawney Phil, only instead of gnawing on your own shadow, you regurgitate the same talking points in your quixotic mission to civilize as you did the last time you encountered the exact same people doing the exact same thing. You slam the alarm blaring Sonny & Cher, down your Sprite and your Doritos, part of a balanced breakfast, and you go to work, flexing those calloused fingers so you can lay into a well-abused keyboard to extol your virtues, believing yourself Prometheus, bringing fire to the unwashed masses. Except they don't want fire. They want Paul Blart: Mall Cop. So you raise your fists and curse the gods for making these damn dirty apes around you so uncivilized, retreating back into your humid, cement-floored abode. There you wait, hoping someone makes the terrible mistake of stating their love of Judd Apatow movies or their agreement that Ben Affleck should have won an Oscar - twice. You lurch from your slumber again, desperate to teach those cretins on the message boards once more, and the cycle continues, like Puxatawney Phil looking at his shadow, almost but not quite self-aware.

You are a cinephile. You are a true lover of the craft. And nothing - not casual filmwatchers, not message posting limits, not even the use of capitalization - will stop you from your never-ending quest, your torment, your mission to civilize, like Jeff Daniels in The Newsroom. You shed the crumbs from your "Miyazaki is for Pussies" shirt and begin to tac-tac-tac away at your typewriter keyboard with the shotgun blast buttons, reinvigorated.

This is who you are. The arbiter of taste.