All you non-baseball fans are really missing out on something special.
Anyway, to be completely honest, I haven’t had much to talk about lately other than baseball, and I’m sure you guys don’t want to hear me gush about that anymore. Last Saturday, I went to see The Master, Paul Thomas Anderson’s follow-up to the feverishly praised (albeit, in my opinion, overrated) There Will Be Blood. It was my first trip to the movie theater since I saw The Dark Knight Rises in IMAX over two months ago. You might say, “WordMaster, there are so many things to discuss. Why don’t you talk about something that actually matters for once?” Well, true; I could talk about politics, society, real life or any of those things that most normal people find fascinating. But, as you guys know, I’m not normal. I’m that weird person whose existence revolves almost entirely around an endless string of pop culture obsessions. So when I realized that (1) I hadn’t seen a movie in theaters in two months and (2) I didn’t really care, I felt like I was having a legitimate identity crisis. If I wasn’t devouring movies and TV shows with an enthusiasm that bordered on mania, what was I even doing? What was the point of my life?