OMG. Sunday morning. I should be going to church. I am going to church. My special church. The movies. A church filled with art. Art that will remind me of my humanity. The ups. The downs. The magic. The movies. AMC Theatres. Burbank. I'm just clearing the stairs to Rocketman.

Suddenly. I see it and it's not pretty. A small version of Godzilla is dancing along the theatre entrance. They've hired some dwarf or midget to crawl into a costume of Godzilla and bump and grind and grope into my fellow mouth-breathing malcontents going to the movies. Characters from a Saturday morning laundromat. Bless their hearts.

Dwarfs. Midgets. “Little People” my derriere. Bastards. They get all the work.

As I negotiate around Leaping Lizards, some iPhone babe is filming his every move as he imitates Godzilla, a revered cinema hero in my life and in the life of most movie fans from San Quentin to San Diego. From Nagasaki to North Hollywood.

Is nothing sacred?

How dare they burlesque Godzilla? Maybe the dude or dudette doing their impression of Godzilla is a college student with tuition to pay.

Or more probably, another early-release felon with bills to pay. I'll let God sort it out.

She's good at that.