I’m unwilling to take a chance on a movie unless I know it will be good. I can fritter away hours on the computer — but if I see a bad movie, I feel like it’s two hours of my life that I’ll never get back. So it often happens that my wife watches videos downstairs while I’m up in the loft on the computer.
One afternoon, Christi had put on Spike Lee’s “Summer of Sam.” Our daughter Lauren, who is five, came down from her bedroom, where she had been playing. As Lauren walked down the stairs, I heard a steady stream of profanity coming from the T.V. “Uh, Christi?” I said. “Lauren’s coming down. You might want to pause that or something.”
I heard Christi tell Lauren: “You should probably go back to your room, honey.”
Lauren asked: “Can I watch the movie?”
I heard more profanity. Christi told Lauren: “You should go back up to your room. This really isn’t a movie for kids to watch.”
“Why is it not a movie for kids?” Lauren asked. I could hear that she had made it all the way downstairs, right next to the television set.
“Because they say bad words,” Christi said.
On cue, a character named Vinny yelled at his wife, very loudly and very distinctly:
I CAN’T BE A WHORE, ‘CAUSE I’M A MAN, OKAY? YOU’RE THE FUCKING WHORE, YOU STUPID LESBIAN FUCKING WHORE!!!
Lauren’s eyes went wide.
“Oh,” she said. She nodded to show that she understood.
“He said STUPID.”