A week or so ago the New York Times had an article about how R-rated in-flight movies were upsetting parents who had to spend their whole flight trying to distract their kids from the overhead screens filled with carnage and breasts. Times readers responded, overwhelmingly, with sympathy for the parents and general disappointment in the airlines' choice of entertainment.
But there's always a nutbag in the crowd who has to stand up for the inaliable right of all child-free adults to have constant access to carnage and breasts:
Debra Lesslie! I don't know how you ended up being so bitter and rigid, but do you actually suggest that a full one-third of the adult population of the U.S. should not fly with the young, but instead ride in buses, trains, station wagons, and donkey carts to Grandma's house? Perhaps blindfolds are the answer, or a good whipping would knock some sense into those brats. Yes, I agree that children should listen to their parents and do as they're told, but perhaps you've not lately spent three hours comforting a child who's too young to read and disdainful of every distraction bursting out of your carry-on bag, and who will, after witnessing a man with a machine gun murder a dozen people, many of them with breasts, shriek to the entire airplane, "WAS THAT REAL?!" I hope I never have to fly in your icy, airless row, Debra Lesslie, but I probably never will because on the last two airlines I chose to fly on with Jackson (JetBlue and the wonderful Frontier) everyone could plug into their own screen embedded in the seatback directly ahead of them, and thus not be exposed to the Prevalent Gore.
Still, though, you suck.
A woman whose world revolves around the aesthetics and concerns of a six-year-old