Column by Ned Leebrick-Stryker
A bunch of my pals who weren’t attending fraternity formals tagged along with me to see “The Amazing Spider-Man 2.”
We arrived at the bus stop and waited. We were there for an hour, so we gave up. Instead, I ate some ribs from Jethro’s and watched an incredibly disappointing hockey game between the Minnesota Wild and Chicago Blackhawks (I suppose if you’re from Chicago you’d describe that differently).
Finally, after a night of eating ribs and crying profusely, I returned to my messy dorm and opened up my bright laptop. I booted up Google Chrome and logged onto Facebook. Unfortunately, I saw something I could never unsee.
A status of spoilers relating to the movie I wanted to see hours before. I couldn’t look away in time. My brain absorbed everything so quickly. Who lived, who died, even who had a cameo, it was all lodged into my brain for the rest of eternity.
When is it okay to talk about spoilers? I’ve already had the red wedding spoiled for me in “Game of Thrones” and had “The Sixth Sense’s” ending told to me when I was 8. It makes me lose interest in things. Maybe there should be a rulebook.
Somehow, we need to judge when something has moved past the point of relevance.
“Breaking Bad” has been over for almost a year, yet people are sensitive to information regarding it’s finale. “Lost” ended almost four years ago, and everyone knows it all finished in a church.
Here’s what I propose: a filter for social media.
Someone a whole lot smarter than I am can make a program that finds keywords relating to specific things and make sure they don’t show up on a feed. Guys, I think I’ve come up with something brilliant.
As the epidemic of unwanted information is spread throughout the web, this intuitive little program could be our messiah. I impress myself sometimes.
I know it’s been fun today, we’ve had a few laughs and chuckles, but let’s be honest: Spoilers aren’t a joke.
If you have something you’re burning to let out, go into your room and scream it to your heart’s content. But when you’re out in public, keep it on the down low. Don’t be like my Facebook friend, Aidan Kendrick, and ruin all the fun.
I don’t care if they were in a dream the whole time or a character built up for nine seasons is killed off in a montage. Let me experience it for myself.
The next X-Men comes out in two weeks, and I will tear you limb from limb if you post a status about how Professor X can walk again. Kapeesh? Oh, and have a great summer.
Leebrick-Stryker is a first-year broadcast news major and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org