So, I let the younger (but aging) generation talk me into going to see "Dr. Strange".
I did that because my 49 yr old daughter said she is a Cumberbitch
and all her brothers (aging) laughed!
Of course I didn't get it.
I was shocked.
I just didn't get it.
My grown and aging children looked at me as though I just came out of a time travel tube.
" Dr. Strange is Sherlock!! Surely you watch Sherlock! His last name is Cumberbatch, Benedict Cumberbatch, and all the droves of his adoring female fans call themselves Cumberbitches."
So there! Consider yourself educated.
I sat through a loud showing of Dr. Strange.
I shut my eyes through some of the highly overrated visuals, because they definately resembled some scotoma brain displays I have had with my migraines. No thanks. I've seen this kaleidoscope before without leaving my home or buying a ticket.
"So far so awful", I whispered to my aging daughter.
Leaving the theater later, I felt so defeated. What to heck was that show about?
I couldn't figure out the plot, the purpose, what happened.
I , being hyper vigilant to any sign of cognitive dysfunction (where 2+2 does not add up to 4), was devastated.
I am obviously "round the bend". Surely this failure to grasp the movie is a sign of dementia.
cheatsheet.com
"What was the plot?" I timidly asked my 49 yr old Cumberbitch.
She was breezy. "Who knows?! I don't. You're supposed to go see it again and also go to the next Dr. Strange in the series."
"Well what happened?"
"The buildings folded in upon themselves."
.
"So? What was the point?"
"Oh Mom, you are so old fashioned. There wasn't a point. Weren't those visuals awesome?"
Hoping you do not judge yourself by your ability to understand today's entertainment,
I remain happy you came to visit.
Riverwatch
