Grandma And The Soft Core Porn

When I was a child, my grandmother and I had a weird thing about movies. Specifically, she would see a children's film advertised on TV, and would get it into her head that I needed to go see it.

When I was young, this did not bother me; I liked movies, and my parents seldom attended them; I spent my youth in little bitty towns that did not HAVE theatres, except one, about which the less said the better; when one never cleans a theatre, rats and worse things come to snack out. So when we visited the grandparents, she would make a point of taking me to a movie.

Whether or not I wanted to see the movie was irrelevant. Grandmother had decided that I would like this movie, and therefore, I would be taken to the movies. Saw a lot of the Disney life action films in the early seventies this way. Rather liked Kurt Russell's early Disney stuff...

Eventually, this evolved a little; she did not take me to the movies, but I would be told which movie I would see, and be dropped off at the theatre, with some money for refreshments and a quarter to call home when the movie was over. This worked much better for me, since the theatre in their town, an early megaplex, had three theatres in it, and the odds were good that there was SOME damn thing I wanted to see, and no one paid any attention to what theatre you entered after you paid to get in. It first occurred to me to do this when I was sent to see "Pippi Longstocking," and I realized in the first ten minutes what a wretched film I was watching, and why was I in THIS theatre when "Death Race 2000" was very conveniently showing right next door, and had car chases, boobs, David Carradine, vehicular murder, boobs, cool cars, a very young Sylvester Stallone, and boobs in it?

In retrospect, it occurs to me that my grandmother very significantly contributed to the psychological decay that today makes up most of my personality... all because she thought I should go see "Pippi Longstocking."