I’ve succeeded so far in avoiding the Dark Knight backlash which is now inevitable for every big movie.

Not that the media hasn’t tried, what with the Batlogo superimposed on the IMDb; and the nonsensical commercials for cable TV with the man and the two teens and the woman and the man conspicuously holding the newspaper with the “BATMAN SIGHTED” headline; and the pizza commercial featuring some of the Joker’s goons.  ‘Cause they’re all related, naturally.  It’s an organic progression from cheap pizza to damaged playboy industrialist superheroes.

I’ve done well in the way I did well last year, for a different reason – I imposed a media blackout on myself the week before the last Harry Potter book came out, so that no precocious virgin blogger nor loveless snot-nosed magazine writer who hates himself could feel important by ruining my surprise.  And what do you know, it worked, and my reading of the book that Sunday went thoroughly interrupted, save for food, and finally and temporarily the world responded in my efforts to shut it out.  (Thankfully, those days are gone.)

I like to build my own suspense with events like this.  The people who market the piss out of movies like this really have the easiest job in the world, but they make it hard on themselves by having to squeeze out every last dollar.  I can’t blame them for that, but let’s call it for what it is: selling metaphorical food to metaphorically hungry people.  At not entirely unreasonable prices, either.

I’m really hungry but it’s too late to eat.