My dear friend Lord Whimsy asked the question, "I feel bad for the man and his family, but am I the only one who is left completely cold by the smug upper middle whiteness of John Hughes' films?"
To which I answered, "The teen-aged me didn't have the capacity for critical thinking the 35-year old me has. At the time I just wanted the goofy side-kick Duckie, the damn pink car, the hot boyfriend (didn't matter if he was the horribly abused rebel Bender, the rich kid Blane, or the all-around popular guy Ferris), and a day off from school. ;-)"
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dying all day in thousands of little ways, dancing alone and drinking a lot
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