I had some time on my hands yesterday afternoon while up at the corner of Yonge and Highway 7, Richmond Hill, so I thought I would duck into the local movie theatre and see a show.

Blair Witch.  I was five minutes in and knew full well I’d just wasted my money and was about to waste my time.  How does a movie like this get made?  Completely lame to no story line, hack acting, and horrendous, train wreck cinema photography.  Yeah sure there were a few scare scenes tossed in, mixed with some loud scare music/noises but sheesh…  This is a horror film?  I was tempted a few times to get up and walk out but I’d never done that to a picture before.  So I stayed with it.  Now I don’t wear a watch but if I had of, I’d have been looking at it and wondering when is this nightmare going to end?  And even more:  How are they going end this pile of crap?

Well it didn’t end.  All of sudden the director’s name was on the screen and the house lights were up.

Gosh I was glad to get out of there.  The kid usher was there and said I hope you enjoyed the show to which I of course replied:  Money back please!

I walked out of the theatre and saw this:

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“One evening I was walking along a path, the city was on one side and the fjord below. I felt tired and ill. I stopped and looked out over the fjord—the sun was setting, and the clouds turning blood red. I sensed a scream passing through nature; it seemed to me that I heard the scream. I painted this picture, painted the clouds as actual blood. The color shrieked. This became The Scream.”

Suddenly I could relate completely to Edvard Munch when he wrote these words in his journal, way back in January, 1892…

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