Von

Two things are GUARANTEED to happen in a Friday the 13th movie:

 

1) Jason Vorhees, the deranged serial killer from Camp Crystal Lake, will slaughter a bunch of folks in the most gruesome, sadistic ways possible. Using any weapon available at his disposal, including his trusty 3-foot machete.

2) There’ll be gratuitous nudity, including at least one graphic sex scene. The nudity and sex are usually followed by Jason butchering the people involved—during the act or shortly thereafter (yup, Jason’s the ultimate cockblocker).

 

So, to recap: Friday the 13th movies = sex, nudity, and brutal, bloody butcherings.

 

If I were a parent, ain’t no way in hell I’d let my lil’ kid watch that—at least until he was a teenager.

So, the last thing I expected to see when I went to see the new Friday the 13th remake were shorties in the theater.

But, in a shocking turns of events, that turned out not to be the case.

A lil’ girl—couldn’t have been older than 6—was in the front row (the FRONT ROW!), accompanied by (I’m assuming) her parents. I couldn’t believe it! What parents in their right minds would subject their youngster to 1.5 hours of horrific violence, nudity, foul language, and sex?

Shit got worse when I got to my seat and looked around—there were all kinds of kids in there.

How are kids let into rated-R movies—doesn’t “R” mean restricted?

Unbelievable!

I know grown-ass men who’re scared of horror flicks. I’ve dated women who—out of fear—have refused to watch scary movies with me. And these are ADULTS. Imagine how it affects the shorties? I can’t fathom the ill thoughts running through their little minds afterwards. Who knows what kinds of nightmares they’d have.

I should know.

When I was a kid, my teenaged aunt and cousin let me watch one of the Friday the 13th movies. SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME! I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t go to the basement alone. Even though Jason lived in Crystal Lake, I was sure that he was gon’ come to the west side of Chicago and kill ME any day. To make things worse, my cousin and aunt would go around the house making the “Jason sound effect” (chu-chu-chu-chu-ha-ha-ha-ha).

Sick freaks.

If the 80’s version of Jason frightened me; I can only imagine what the updated Friday the 13th would do to the kiddies nowadays.

 

During the opening credits, Jason’s mom gets her head chopped the hell off.

The OPENING CREDITS.

About 20 minutes in, two Asian ladies escorted their two kids into the aisle in front of ours.

Fortunately, they missed the scene where the camper doggy-styles his girl in a tent—before being slaughtered by a pissed-off Jason. Unfortunately for the kids, more sex and violence was forthcoming. The women made the lil’ girls cover their eyes while a naked girl rode her dude (also naked) on a bed in the cabin.

Uh, ladies—know how y’all can avoid covering the kids’ eyes during the sex scenes?

DON’T BRING ’EM TO AN R-RATED MOVIE!

Strangely, the ladies didn’t feel the need to cover their eyes as Jason slowly jammed a nail through the esophagus of his next victim.

 

Later, after an especially brutal scene, a woman led her daughter down the isle, leaving the theater.

She finally had the sense to do the right thing, I thought.

But the same lady came back with her daughter 5 minutes later (guess they had to use the bathroom).

Damn shame.

I knew all hope was lost when, moments later, a baby started crying.

Who brings an infant to a late, R-rated, slasher flick?

 

My faith in humankind died last night.

Jason didn’t kill it. People did.