Last night I watched a famous director give a talk about his movie to a room full of Worshipful Film School Students. During the question and answer period the Worshipful Film School Students couldn't help parlaying their question into some sort of statement about how his movies had given their lives direction and saved them from whittling away their trust funds on season lift passes at Vale [PLEASE NOTE: I am extremely jealous of these people (must use x-tra brakets to offer the thought that "these people" could be a figment of my jealous imagination)...and from that base emotion comes my mockery], NOT TO MENTION, how they were available to discuss the nature of his superiority over a soy latte at anytime of the day or night.

To his credit, the director did everything he could to tame the zealot energy of their faith, but get down on his knees and cry, "I'm just a man! A flesh and blood man like you!" Having been through my people worship stage (that coincided with my lost youth and, perhaps, contributed to it) I felt tempted to stand up and the theater and yell, "Life's too short to waste creaming your panties for some guy who makes movies with way too many shots of middle aged white men clipping their toe nails!"

But I didn't because that would have been embarrassing. I also might have been killed.

Just for today, I abstain from people worship.