In 2009, I got a day job at a credit union because the credit card companies started rejected the cinquain poems I wrote them as payment for some reason. The site was in its salad days, but for all the keeping my head down I did from 9-5 (right next to Brian Salisbury, it should be noted), I’ll never forget what happened when a colleague found out late in the year that I wrote about movies. “I cannot wait for Tooth Fairy. The one with The Rock. I just love him!” she said, acting every bit as excited as if I were The Rock and had just agreed to sign her wrist so she could get it tattooed over. It wasn’t a long conversation, and my gut reaction made me feel like a snobbish prick. I couldn’t reciprocate the feeling even as I struggled to appreciate it, but her pure joy was a nice reminder that there are all kinds of movie fans out there and that movies have always belonged to them. In differing ways, neither Andrew O’Hehir at Salon or Devin Faraci at Bad Ass Digest seem to recognize that.