This is another reason why the world is going to hell.

Let me explain:

These people (and I use the term loosely.) are buying regular films and "cleaning them up" and reselling them to the public. This is just wrong. In my opinion, if you don't like the movie's content or language, then DON'T WATCH THE MOVIE! Don't distort the artist's vision just so you can see your favorite star in another movie. The movie is meaningless without the various parts that define what that movie is.

Now, I'm not saying that a movie is defined by how much boob is shown or how many times someone says the word "fuck". However, the intensity of a given situation that adds to the plot may be bolstered by a well placed epithet.

Our movies reflect our reality and dreams. By distorting them because they don't quite fit into your happy little lives with the white picket fence and the 2.3 kids, you are effectively covering up history! We, as a people, learn from our history. If there's no history to learn from we just repeat the same mistakes....Think about it.

So, for once, I am posting something else besides my rantings on Sprint.

I had a weird dream last night. I rarely remember my dreams, but when I do, they seem to be doozies.

This one starts with me walking into a very crappy little Mexican restaurant. I say it's crappy because it's not very clean, it's dimly lit, and it's in a bad part of town. I am there for a mandatory weekend meeting where everyone in the department is supposed to show up here at 2 pm. I walk in and don't see anyone I know, so I have them seat me in the smoking section.

They sit me in the very back of the restaurant. I sit in the corner with my back to the adjoining walls, looking out into the restaurant. I notice on the table next to me a small, plastic, brightly colored horn or flute of some type. I pick it up and start fiddling with it and the next thing I know I am asleep.

When I wake up, the entire section of the restaurant that I am in is filled with small children, sitting politely at each table. They are wearing brightly colored party hats and every single one of them is staring at me.

Just as I am about to freak like never before, one of my coworkers (I don't know this person but I know I work with them) comes to fetch me. As we're walking down the hall, he asks me when I got there, because the whole group has been waiting for me. I tell him that I got there at 2 pm, the time that we were supposed to show up. He tells me that he's been here since 3 am. I think to myself, "Geez, what an ass-kiss!"

So, we get to the room that the department is in. All the tables in the room have been bunched together in the middle to form one big table. It seems everyone that I like at work has been replaced with new people. The Anti-Christ (You all should know who that is now) is holding court at the head of the table. She gives me a dirty look for being late and proceeds with the meeting. I don't hear what she's saying, so I preoccupy myself with the toy horn that I still seem to have. A few seats down the table from me, a Mexican leans over and whispers to me loudly:

"Hey Vato, gimme back my horn."

So, I hand it to him and find that a large, dark green bowl has been passed to me and The Evil One is looking at me like I am supposed to be eating from it. I dip my finger into the goo and have a taste. It tastes like SHIT!

Just then, she gets up and leaves the room. Who knows why?

I get pissed and take the bowl and throw it on the floor. For some reason, the contents of the bowl have turned to glass and when I smash it on the floor, shards of it scatter all over. The bowl is unharmed, so I use it to gather up the broken glass. Then I look around for a place to dispose of it. The only thing I see is a door at my end of the room, so I head towards it.

It turns out to be this crappy little bathroom. There's no light fixture, but the door doesn't shut all the way, so I use the sliver of light that is coming through it to see what I am doing. I flush the contents of the bowl down the toilet and just as I get the last piece down, The Evil One bangs on the door. I turn towards the door, and through the crack, I see nothing but bright pink mumu. When I open the door, I find that the Anti-Christ has donned a short, curly dark wig and a big pink, floral mumu.

That's when the alarm clock goes off and I wake up. Weird shit man...Weird shit...

Well, they've done it again.

They've sent me another bill. Those bastards won't leave me alone. I don't want to call them to tell them to get off my back because I feel sure that they will send the authorities to come pick me up after I tell them the intricate tortures I would like to do to them.

It's beatin' me down....

I really think that Sprint is going out of their way to goad me into some sort of action. Not only did they send me a bill in August. I now have on my living room table an advertisement asking me to come back to Sprint! Yeah, I wanna go back to Sprint like I wanna contract AIDS!