I love the concept of being the last guy on earth – or at least in town; though I would have chosen to move south to Atlanta or Miami where it doesn’t get so cold. It would be neat to be able to drive off the lot in a beefed up Mustang and not have to sign my life away. Personally, if I had a couple million dark-seekers after my blood, I’d drive a tank. And what’s up with only canines and humans being infected with the virus? How come the monkeys didn’t get it? Hollywood just proved how far off Charles Darwin really was on his theory of evolution and our ascent from apes.
Saying that, this movie is a bitch to clean up. Lots of people came to see this movie and lots of people left their trash in their seats. After the 7 PM showing Saturday night, it took three ushers and two managers fifteen minutes to pick up the biggest trash and haul out four forty-five gallon leaking plastic bags of trash. I hate it when I break a sweat cleaning a movie, because combined with my sweat and all that butter and soda that gets spilled on my clothes when I have to toss those heavy bags into the over-flowing dumpster, I stink. Every night I have to wash the one shirt the theater provides me. The butter stains won’t come out! UV rays may be toxic to the dark-seekers, but so is fermented soft drink syrup and popcorn butter to theater ushers. The employment span of a theater usher is only slightly longer than a door gunner during the VietNam war.
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