Goober-less

I fawn over feature films the way Castro covets Cubans, Satan savors souls, and little green men lust after little green women. Yeah, I’m a movie buff with a silo of Shinola and a shitload of Shamwows. The trouble is, I’m trapped in Singapore.

For all its good points, the island’s the pits when it comes to the silver screen. Not only does the selection lack the breadth found in the States, the ones they do have are censored beyond belief. Curses are cut, debauchery deleted, and blatant nudity is nowhere to be found. I checked the run time of the latest Tarantino flick and it was a whopping 37 minutes including the previews.

The irony of all this is that the local multiplex is located a stone’s throw from one of the best-known brothels in all of Asia. (Not that I’ve visited mind you – fear of cooties and all). There are literally more hoes in the average theater than in the films their watching… a rare thing outside of Los Angeles.

But what aggravates me the most, what really makes me want to grab an AK-47 and recreate a scene from Scarface, is the appalling absence of Goobers – the most amazing movie candy known to man. I can deal with laundered language, edited erotica and even the awkward circumstances European style seat selection forces upon the lone movie goer, but to do so without my savory chocolate wonders is unthinkable.

Singapore, you get rave reviews for food, friendliness and frequency of mass transit, but two thumbs stuck firmly up your keister when it comes to cinematic style. From the looks of things, I’ll be rocking NetFlix come January. Ah, hint-hint on the stocking stuffers.