Rude geezers rock the movies!

Rude dudes spoil fun at the movies
By Carl Larsen
A recent survey indicates that, while 30 percent of Americans enjoy going out to the movies, nearly 50 percent prefer waiting for a DVD or taped version of a film. Well, if we're actually turning into a country of hermits, crouching in front of our TVs and silently munching away on microwave popcorn, I can understand why. Rude dudes are spoiling all the fun at the movies.
The day I got my Old Geezer license, I naturally began blaming all the troubles of the world on young people. I sneered at their droopy drawers, their lack of appreciation for anything more subtle than a fart joke, and their reprehensible demeanor at the movies. They kick the seats in front of them, repeat stupid movie lines aloud, bellow like neglected farm animals, and in general behave like a crowd of invading Visigoths gathered at the gates of Rome. And while all that may be true, as I learned last week, it's not the whole story.
Last weekend my wife and I went to see "De-lovely," the new cinematic biography of Cole Porter. "Ahh," thought I, "a movie for grownups!? And as expected, I saw the audience was all senior citizens, people who knew that a Cole Porter was not just the title of a mine worker. And so we nestled down amongst a gaggle of pleasant-looking old folks and burrowed into our tasty tub of expensive popcorn.
No sooner had the opening credits started, when the audience began an outlandish display. Old folks, I guess, have all forgotten that they're not always sitting at home on their comfy sofas. The rules of decorum are different, in a movie house. But as the melodic creations of Mr. Porter began to flow from the screen, the man behind me suddenly realized he was Fred Astaire in an early incarnation. He tap-danced to the movie music, adding nifty little flourishes. Then, off to our left, a cell phone rang. And the lady next to us, beset by a fit of palsy, began twitching her knee while a nearby, thoughtful wife started translating the film into English for her hard-of-hearing hubby. On and on, one disturbance after another. This kept up throughout the film.
My wife and I both wimped out. Instead of rising in anger and shouting at them all to be quiet or be gone, we sat and stewed. The delicate ambiance of the film was, of course, shattered. But I learned one valuable lesson:
Socially, my generation ain't got no more class than anybody else.