You may ask yourself why does a young man stand before you, at the front of a packed movie theater, waving a baseball bat around, as we wait for the previews to begin. I would like to explain how this aluminum Louisville Slugger is my best friend to bring to movies. It has a nickname because all friends should have nicknames. This particular bat goes by the nickname of the "Louisville Shusher." I call it the Shusher because its main function is to prevent you from TALKING OR KICKING THE BACK OF MY CHAIR DURING THE FILM! We did not come here tonight to listen to you mumble, whisper, giggle, or talk on a cell phone. We also did not congregate here tonight to experience the unpleasantness of you taking off your shoes, resting your feet on the headrest, and nervously jostling our chairs. This is where The Shusher comes into play and this is how the game works.

If you have the bad habit of reading aloud words or names or places that appear on the screen during the film; that equals one visit from The Shusher to your shins and/or kneecaps.

If you try to make clever comments during dialogue of this movie; once again, your shins and kneecaps receive a greeting from The Shusher.

If your cell phone rings; the cell phone will meet The Shusher. If you answer a ringing cell phone; Shusher time for your face and the cell phone.

Want to bring your two-year-old to a movie? Better hope he/she doesn't start whining or crying. The Shusher will wait until the end of the movie and lights come up to slam into your neck and shoulder region, so one of the first memories your child has of you is writhing in pain on the floor of a movie theater isle.

Go ahead; kick the back of my chair. Let's see what Mr. Shusher has to say about that.

The Shusher and I work as one, and I can swing it like a drunken bar league softball third baseman who still has "issues" from when his dad coached little league. So sit quietly and enjoy the film.

© Mark Lindquist

Hello, me again. Not sure if I stressed this enough two weeks ago, but I am now obsessed with writing anywhere from my next four to four hundred columns simply reviewing the NBC broadcast of Kenny Loggins on Ice. KLOI featured a elderly pop star from the worst parts of the seventies and early eighties playing his shitty lite-rock hits live while washed up figure skaters pranced around dressed up as the characters from the movies that Kenny Loggins wrote songs to. Now, as I've mentioned before, I saw this as a result of a faulty move of a thumb on a television remote control while trying to watch some college hoops. From hours of research on the KLOI webpage, I have realized there exists "people" who actually watched this show on purpose. And now, I would like to address them.

On the message board, I found three sorts of people had a reason to experience the Dr. Mengele like torture known as Kenny Loggins on Ice. One: people who liked Kenny Loggins and found it interesting to see him on the Ice Capades. Two: people who enjoy figure skating and had even more reason to masturbate in their mom's basement because Kenny Loggins performed the music. And three, people who, for reasons only known to the criminally retarded, enjoy Kenny Loggins and figure skating combined together like vomit and diarrhea in a Bangkok public toilet.

The only people I know who enjoy Kenny Loggins are the beer fat forty somethings who like to sing karoke to "Danger Zone" at motel lounges to escape their lives as divorced telemarketers. These people make me sad like how sons whose dads coached their little league teams make me sad. I just feel sorry for them and pray that someday therapy will help.

Those who enjoy figure skating are usually women who couldn't make the cheerleading squad and whose fathers wouldn't allow them to play real sports. So, in need of an extracurricular activity, they competed in figure skating. And that's fine with me for the most part because as they become adults, they only mess with my television sports watching once every four years when the Olympics come around which I don't watch anyway.

But then, a percentage of the population enjoys them both...at the same time...performing together...on the same rink of ice. Do you remember the show from the 80's called "Cop Rock?" Yeah, the show that mixed police dramas with music videos? You know, a cop would chase down a drug dealer in an alley and then they'd break out in song and dance? I thought that was the worst thing I've ever seen until KLOI. If someone offered me a all expense, weekend trip to Vegas, with two hot midget hookers in stiletto heels that do nothing but rub cocaine and vodka all over my body while I watch bad horror movies, call in bets, and crank rock music all night long...if somebody offered me that dark fantasy in exchange for watching another nine seconds of KLOI, I would decline. No questions asked. I would decline my darkest craziest fantasy to avoid KLOI. And these people watched it ON PURPOSE. I don't even want to know what other shows KLOI fans watch. And what do these people read when they're on the toilet? The History of Bad Dentistry? Because the KLOI people must enjoy pain and suffering. I dare you to go to the web site and read the message board. They've been waiting for this their whole lives. I'm starting a campaign to avoid it for the rest of mine.

In two weeks, my attempts at an interview with the mullet man himself, Kenny Loggins.

© Mark Lindquist