Dear Friday the 13th, all the Saw flicks, Night, Morning, and Day of the Deads, and all the other great movies of the horror genre,
I come seeking your forgiveness. Unlike other apologies you may find in the media, this one isn’t a non-apology apology. There’s not going to be anything like “I am really sorry, but you provoked me to that horrible thing and, no, I’m not going to pay for the funeral.” This letter is full of words that will show I take ownership of my actions.
I am sorry for calling you poorly written and plain old stupid, crying out things like, “The most unrealistic thing about this zombie movie is Chad and Samantha having sex when they know the undead are nearby.” People in real life don’t act sooooooo idiotic, do they?
It turns out they do.
COVID-19 showed many of us that truth is, in fact, stupider than fiction. The horror movie victim who hides in the closet to escape the psycho killer/demonic doll/Jehovah’s Witnesses is a certifiable genius when compared to anti-maskers. At least the former is running away from danger while the latter is licking doorknobs in pursuit of owning the libs.
In the spirit of complete honesty, here are three instances when horror movie tropes are actually Mensa-level strategies compared to those who are aggressively avoiding the jab.
The main characters’ car broke down in the woods ten minutes into the first act. They find an old abandoned (?) sawmill. Sure, there are rumors and perhaps even some evidence of mass murder in the area. Ignoring the evolutionary principle of safety in numbers, the gang divide up to discover quirky ways of dying separately.
Splitting up seems to be a bad choice. However, COVID-19 has shown us what comedian George Carlin warned us about — the power of stupid people in large groups.
A team is only as competent as its least competent player is a saying from the business world. Sociologists may want to explore how the poorly informed affect each other. It may not be scientific, but there are a lot of anecdotal stories showing how incompetence amplifies incompetence.
Take mask-burning rallies. Those engaging in public displays of public health terrorism goad each other to commit ever more egregious crimes against the scientific method. To make matters worse the events are family affairs.
“Hey fire, you hungry?” asked one boy as adults watched him toss face coverings into a burn barrel. “Here’s another mask!”
Splitting up the gang — especially when that gang is made up of anti-maskers — is a great move.
Don’t go in the room
You’re watching a scary movie. One of the obviously disposable characters (let’s call him Tad) hears something weird from a room down the hall. Tad opens the door and peers down the long hallway. At the very end is a door. It’s red. The sounds are coming from behind that door.
We know what’s going to happen.
“Don’t go in that room, Tad!” we all yell as the sacrificial lamb slowly walks towards his horrible fate. Yet going into a room and staying there is both safe and considerate in the time of COVID-19.
Tad should go into a room if he’s tested positive for the virus. Even if he has to fight for his life in that room, it’s better than him infecting an entire nursing home because he just couldn’t stop himself from eating at the strained peas buffet.
Everyone knows that in horror movies, New England is weird, spooky, and home to all sorts of deviltry. Yet our main characters travel to Salem, MA for a chance to see some “authentic” witch history at that horrible museum. What do we see in the second act of this predictable movie? Monsters. Witches. And that one guy who had big dreams of being a circus clown is now dead.
In the Age of the Pandemic, you want to be in Lovecraft country.
New England is the Scandinavia of the United States of America. Comparatively speaking, the area is wealthy, progressive, and pro-science. It has world-class hospitals. Best of all, New England doesn’t have Governor Ron DeSantis from Florida or Texas Governor Greg Abbott.
In closing, I hope I made it clear that I’ve been wrong about horror movies. From now on I will only sing your praises as a world saner than my own.