Dear The Movies,

Dear the Movies Liza Dora

I watch a lot of you (movies). In fact, I LOVE you. I love exchanging a few hours of my life to hear/see/watch/experience a story. I’m all about diving into another world and will, like most people, happily suspend belief to experience a well-told story but…

I have a few concerns:

1. Why did you just ask your best friend who is currently mid-sprint “What’s wrong?”. Movies, if my friends are running I am also running. Yes there may be some misunderstandings. I may end up at a shoe sale. Or an involuntary participant in a charity 5K, but at least I’m not hanging out asking questions while a chainsaw roars to life in the distance or a zombie shark swims closer.

2. Where are the ponytails? Movies put your hair up! If I see a breaking news segment about zombies or an alien virus you know what my first move is? Putting my hair into a ponytail. If I’m going to be battling other worldly demons, jumping through pane glass windows and basically kicking ass, it’s not going to be with stands of sweaty hair framing my face. Sexy tendrils? Yeah, that shit’ll get ya killed.

3. Why do the promiscuous people always die first? Movies, let’s be honest, you are kind of skanky, but that’s actually great news! You have likely been exposed to various STDs and mutant bacterium, thus your immune system is totally ready for alien biowarfare! Again, lets assume you = non discerning sexual habits. You’re probably also good at sneaking around. You may even be good at hiding. These are positive attributes for surviving in a scary movie. Even if you’re not quite as sexually adventurous, I say befriend the promiscuous! They should theoretically outlive everyone. (But also make sure you can run faster than them just in case. This is a working theory. Be faster than the fast girls.)

4. Why are you still filming? The found footage model is now old enough to buy cigarettes legally. Movies, if you have a friend who is being all like “I have to get this on camera,” feel free to go ahead and start mentally preparing their eulogy as you sprint back to the car. Cameras are heavy, they’re probably going to trip and they won’t even get a picture of the monster. It will be them like “oh, please no!” getting dragged out of the way and no one will ever know what happened… Except they will. Because you are safely waiting for a taquito in the Whataburger line calling all your alive friends and telling them what happened.

5. How are you holding on to the side of a moving car/train/bus/AIRPLANE? Movies, did you not have to take physics in high school? Do you know how impossible it would be to just use your regular human arm strength to do that? Have you never wake-boarded? Or tried to stop a merry-go-round? If super heroes do it—cool. If the guy who is supposedly doing my taxes does it—bullshit. He died. And Movies, that means nobody did my taxes and now I’m definitely going to jail since the IRS hates me because I voted for Mitt Romney.

6. Why doesn’t anyone check their mirror? Movies you should totally know by now how to find the ghost/bad guy/demon/assassin/zombie shark in your house. JUST LOOK IN THE MIRROR! That S.O.B. is behind you. In fact, any reflective surface is like a magnet for ghosts/bad guys/demons/assassins/zombie sharks. Ghosts/bad guys/demons/assassins/zombie sharks are all very vain. And don’t be fooled if they aren’t there the first time–they’re coming. Just set up a big ass net in your bathroom, catch the ghost/bad guy/demon/assassin/zombie shark, take it outside, and drown it in a trash can like a possum. (Obviously this won’t work on a zombie shark because 1. it is undead and 2. it is a shark. So in that case, take your zombie shark, chop it up into small pieces and have a sushi date.) Problem solved. Now you can go back to washing your face like a Noxema model and getting water all over the sink so your husband can yell at you.

Movies, I’m saying this as a friend: get your shit together (and put your hair up). Netflix and HBO Originals are kicking your ass.

Your Friend,

Liza

Read more about Liza Dora here. Or here. (<-This one’s funnier.)

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