Quit Hogging All the Childhoods

Frankly, I don’t even care that there’s a new Ghostbusters movie coming out, nor do I care that it’s a female cast.

Though you have to admit, Dan Aykroyd's ass never looked that good in the uniform.
You have to admit, Dan Aykroyd’s ass never looked that good in the uniform.

Don’t like it, either? Then guess what… you have the option of NOT seeing it. You don’t have to be a slave to your “fandom”. You are allowed to stop at some point, and just enjoy what you have.

Face it, no one’s ever going to make a sequel, reboot, remake, or whatever, as good as you want it to be. Why? Because no matter what they say, they aren’t making it for you. They’re making it for your money. And once they get that, they couldn’t care less what you actually think of the product. You’re creating the demand because you feel the need to buy everything with that label slapped across it. And the gate keepers know this. They know your reverence for nostalgia will goad you into cracking open your wallet at the merest whisper of new material or products. If you think they have any reverence for the “fans of the original”, you’re mistaken. When I was a kid, I loved Batman cereal, and Star Wars pajamas. I thought these things had come from heaven, hand-delivered by the gods to the local department store. My parents knew they were products created to generate more revenue for stock-holders. Big deal. I enjoyed the illusion while it lasted. And I enjoy remembering how I enjoyed the illusion.

Look, I don’t care for all these remakes, and reboots, and whatever the hells, but  I’ve also grown out of the need to decry everything as “pissing all over my childhood”.


You know what? I had my childhood. It’s over now. It’s been over for almost 30 years. And, as far as I can tell, no one has gone back in time and pissed on anything I loved back then. I still love the original Ghostbusters. I own it on DVD. I can watch it any time I want.  Same with Star Wars, Indiana Jones, blah blah blah whatever. My childhood was great. Now it’s someone else’s turn. And don’t say “well, they’re pissing on the memory of my childhood, then”. Again, no, they’re not. Unless you’re letting them. They’re your memories, and unless you’re dealing with some Inception-type Freddy Krueger demon that’s implanting himself in your memories and peeing everywhere, then I think you’re fine.


I’m in my 40s now, and believe me, I’m nothing if not a grumpy old man-in-training. But  I think it’s important to keep the objects of my bitterness and scorn in perspective. Am I bitching about this for fun, to have a few laughs? Or is this SO IMPORTANT to me that I can’t sleep at night knowing someone out there might possibly like this new Ghostbusters/Star Wars/Star Trek/Batman/Aliens/Caligula rebake better than my beloved version? Honestly, if it’s the latter … well, no matter how awful that theoretical person’s taste might be, I’m quite sure there’s something better you can waste your time on. You might need to seriously rethink your life’s priorities, too.  Hell, go read a book you’ve never read, or watch a movie you’ve never seen. Discover something new to love.

There’s a famous anecdote where an interviewer asked Stephen King how he felt about the movie adaptations  ruining his books. He turns around and points at a bookshelf and says, “The books are sitting right there, and they’re just fine” (I’m paraphrasing). And you know what? Same with your childhood. So let it go. Life’s too short. Let someone else have their childhood now, because, frankly, it doesn’t belong to you anyway. You think this new stuff sucks, and you don’t understand why kids would like it? Who cares? Let them enjoy the illusion while it lasts. You did.

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