Then I did an awful thing. I grew up. Came of age, took a wife, made a family, signed a mortgage and reached a point where a punch in the shoulder no longer seemed to qualify as deep conversation. Became a man, I did. Woe is me.
Boys are king.
As in TV wrestlers bashing each other over the head with folding chairs. Turn on the radio, and you find that pop music consists largely of angry boys yelling. Pop culture has become a boys' junior high locker room. As a former denizen of such a locker room, I keep thinking I ought to be gratified by this. So I went to the multiplex.