The Incredibles Left Me Cold

So last weekend I went and saw The Incredibles—thereby establishing the exception to the rule that Geoff never sees any movies, especially on opening weekend. And it's quite a good film: nice fun-filled fluff for the kids, and more than enough meat and subtext to keep the adults interested. Significantly, it's a superhero movie about individual responsibility rather than the fulfillment of adolescent power fantasies.

But that's not what really stuck with me. Forty-eight hours later, I had a cold. And it's a particularly bad cold: not only could I have actually hung a drip-pail under my nose for much of the first day, and not only has it now migrated into my chest converting me into the wheezing rattling broken lung machine of frothy doom, but it skipped my tonsils entirely.

You have no idea how much this ticks me off. Swollen glands in my throat are the only upside to having a cold. They swell up and my voice drops up to a fifth in pitch—a little over half an octave. Suddenly I'm a deep baritone! I could be a voice actor fo villains in cartoons! I can frighten people when I answer the phone!

This time? None of that. Feh. (sniff)

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