HEY, JERRY HORROR, WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

So apparently a friend of mine tells me that my name came up on some podcast called The Offering with Jerry Horror. Some condescending Long Island loudmouth decided to read my Amazon review of Maniac on his show and make me the butt of his little horror geek comedy routine.

First of all, Jerry, congratulations. You found a negative review on Amazon. Somebody get this guy a Peabody Award! What an investigative journalist! You read my opinion about a movie and apparently decided that made me fair game for your little podcast roast. What are you, the Simon Cowell of basement horror fandom?

Here's a thought, Jerry: maybe I didn't like Maniac. Maybe I watched it, formed an opinion, and wrote a review about it. That's generally how this whole movie reviewing thing works. Not everybody has to fall to their knees and worship every grimy, grainy, blood-soaked relic from the golden age of exploitation cinema. I get it. You love this stuff. You probably think a movie isn't worth watching unless somebody gets stabbed, dismembered, or covered in enough fake blood to make Tom Savine proud. Good for you! Want a cookie?

But the condescension is what really gets me. You didn't just disagree with my review. You had to hold it up for your audience like you'd discovered the ZAPRUDER FILM of bad movie opinions. You know what that says about you? You're not nearly as clever as you think you are. A guy with a microphone, a horror collection, and an audience willing to laugh at somebody else's expense isn't automatically an authority on cinema. It just means you have a podcast.