A blog is often a place for people to vent their secret shames. They can say what they want to say without fear, because the people reading it are, for the most part, complete strangers. It’s a way to unburden one’s self.
That’s not really true with my blog. My blog is more read by family and friends than by the anonymous public, but I feel like they’ll still accept me, no matter what my deep dark secrets are.
So, I’m going to admit here, before the world, that I like the Friday the 13th movies. And not in that pseudo-ironic sense either, where I pick something awful or embarrassing to like so I’ll seem like an indie hipster who refuses to conform to society’s rules, because that’s how we stick it to the man.
Nope, my tastes in movies is truly so bad as to allow the Friday the 13th movies safe passage.
What’s annoying is I can’t really explain it. They’re not scary. They’re mindless. They’re funny, but only unintentionally so.
But I can’t help the love I feel for that big mute lug and his giant knife and his penchant for killing obnoxious 1980’s teenagers. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I love Jason Voorhees and his psycho mother because they’re killing the ’80s, one hairsprayed, brightly colored teen at a time.
Whatever the reason, be sure to keep an eye out for a lengthy, absurd look at the Legend of Jason Voorhees. Because I didn’t quite embarrass myself with that in-depth analysis of Apollo Creed.