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The Wendling and I were at EMP a couple of months ago, and they had an exhibit on horror movies, including clips of several classics. One of these was, of course, Psycho by the late great Alfred Hitchcock. I asked m'boy if I should Netflix it, and he said yeah, sure, whatever, and forgot about it. I didn't forget.
I'm surprised the preserved corpse scene didn't freak him out. In fact, the movie doesn't seem to have made much of an impression of any kind on him, and he isn't even doing the obnoxiously jaded teen thing.
Come to think of it, he's started acting more mature lately: last night I didn't have to remind him to set the table, or feed the dog, or clear his dishes. Did getting a job grow him up a little? Or is it just another one of that long series of mysterious steps in the step function that is childhood? I don't know. Gift horses.
I'm surprised the preserved corpse scene didn't freak him out. In fact, the movie doesn't seem to have made much of an impression of any kind on him, and he isn't even doing the obnoxiously jaded teen thing.
Come to think of it, he's started acting more mature lately: last night I didn't have to remind him to set the table, or feed the dog, or clear his dishes. Did getting a job grow him up a little? Or is it just another one of that long series of mysterious steps in the step function that is childhood? I don't know. Gift horses.
