Why can’t life be like in da movies. Maybe I should clarify. Why can't they be like happy movies. Most of what ya gets is stupid Zombie, vampire postal workers or surreal stories about depressed rich people driving around in 1938 Bugatti's. 

Nah, I wanna live in one of them hopeful Frank Capra fantasies. The kind where some yokels go through assorted contrived whooie from central casting villains. But in the end, all's well. I want to be the crusading Teacher, Pastor, or Reporter. Capra always has one of them swell folks. Wearing a cool hat and fighting for the innocent. Like some old guy losing his farm or a bunch of cute depression era kids are about to be dumped into an evil orphanage.

The farmer will get turned into dog food, and the kids end up as slave labor for a Kansas City pinball machine company. Somewhere in all this I gets to make this passionate speech, or sermon or editorial. This always saves everybody in the end. In the final scene gramps is gleefully dancing on his farm knee deep in pig shit, and the kids are back on the block stealing stuff, and breaking windows. 'All happy as junkies that stumbles onto 50 kilos of China White. (...uncut.)

The music swells, and the credits roll. What could be better. That, and no one has to see the messy contradictions of the film's characters getting on with da crappy business of everyday life. The lights come up, and you go out into the dreary hell of your real life. This is why we love movies so much, and why I wants to live in one. The dream world these flickering phantoms live in. Their universe is one that has never, 'ever' had a backed-up toilet. That or a dead guy in face down in a bowl of cold spaghetti. Eh...mostly