What's The Matter With Kids Today?
A bit of audience participation this week: Think back and remember the first movie you saw with a character in it below the age of puberty. If the first thing you think about that cinematic pre-teen wasn't 'what a fucking brat', imagine me slowly backing away from you, while fumbling for the gun in my pocket.

You see, I like to think of myself as a patient, understanding person, easygoing to a fault. Spill your drink on me? I'll make a joke about sleeping with your mother and we'll both laugh the incident off. Have a weird habit? It's not like I'm really bothered by it, seeing as how I banged your ugly slut of a mom and all. You're getting the idea: for me, tolerance is not a drinking-related skill, it's a way of life.

However, there is one thing that I cannot stand, that burrows under my skin and lays its burning eggs of loathing in my bloodstream - and that is children in movies and television. Call it jealousy at the fact they'll probably be able to afford cocaine before I do, cry out the names of all the films that prove me wrong, whatever. You can't deny that 99.9% of the time when a precocious wide-eyed abortion escapee trots onscreen, your hands don't tense while you size up his/her neck.

Children of the Yawn
For example, let's examine the brand new So Solly Cholly Overdub Remix of the Ring. While the film itself actually did justice to the Nice Try Roundeye Original Track of its Japanese counterpart Ringu, and even improved on it somewhat, a flaw becomes apparent - in both versions, the son is just a talking plot device. Never mind the fact that he's gotten the role of budget Haley Joel Osment, the kid's doomed to be the movie's timebomb, that the main characters must defuse before the film drops below 50 frames per second.

Movies have an annoying habit of doing this; providing one-dimensional exaggerated templates of kids so irritating if you saw them on the street you'd buy a belt just so you could pull it off and beat them like cake mix. Or beat them like they stole something, like cake mix. Little thieving bastards, always craving sweets.

Kids, Incorporated
At least, that's what the movies would have us believe. Consider the most damaging piece of anti-child propaganda ever put to film: Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. In between the songs and day-glo midget forced labor are the guidelines for every single type of movie child before or after the time of this film.

Take Charlie Bucket, the good-natured hardworking kid you've seen at least a thousand times since, posessed of luck that no one not wearing a suit of 4-leaf clovers should have. How about Augustus Gloop, the fat greedy kid who's always good for a laugh - aren't you, fatty? Or perhaps Mike TeeVee and Violet Beauregarde, the sassy know-it alls? And we dare not forget the Original Goblin Queen herself, Veruca "NOW" Salt - the spiritual ancestor of Curly Sue, so mean she'd step on her own mother just so she could step on her father afterwards. My ears are ringing just looking at her picture. In short, this group was just one giant misshapen retard short of becoming the Goonies of the 70s. And even that's debatable when you look at Granpa Joe.

Now, I must say that when I refer to these movie brats, I know there are exceptions to the rules, although it's a matter of perspective. For every Rufio or Short Round or Harry Potter, there's a Failure Joel Osmoron lurking in the shadows. So the question comes down to the age-old issue of quality acting. Is it worth it to create a new slew of acting ankle-biters for only a few memorable people? Will the next young hopeful be Elijah Wood or Macaulay Culkin? What really makes cinekids like Thora Birch and Christina Ricci rise to a level the Olsen Twins could never hope to achieve?

Don't ask me. All I know is, I was makin' kids with your mom last night. Oh, snap!