Since it’s been a popular device as of late, today’s incentive sketch is a continuation of today’s strip. Click here to vote for Theater Hopper at buzzComix and to get another dose of some hard facts you don’t want to hear…

Today’s comic was pulled directly from the “It Happened To Us” file. Cami and I had gone to the early matinee of Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy and emerged into the blinding sun to discover an advertisement affixed to the drivers side rear-view mirror of my car.

The pisses me off for a myriad of reasons. Partially because I just got out of a movie where I was held as a captive audience to commercials for Coke and Calvin Klein jeans projected on-screen before the trailers! But mostly I’m irked because finding this piece of paper on my windshield means SOMEBODY TOUCHED MY CAR!!!

You don’t touch another man’s car. That’s common knowledge.

Actually, what cheeses me off the most is that when you’re first walking out of the theater, you’re on a bit of an emotional high. If the movie was good, that is. You’re strolling into the parking lot, talking about what you just watched. Laughing at lines in the movie you found funny. Generally reflecting on the good time you had.

Then you walk up to your car and it’s… “Huh?! Lose weight now… ASK ME HOW?!”

It yanks you right out of that happy place and puts you right on doorstep of Life’s petty annoyances. The things you went to the movie theater to ESCAPE FROM! And thus, this is why – in my universe – Reality is depicted as a bitter, old man waiting for you to turn around so he can slap you square across the face.

Of course, my first reaction is to dial the number left behind on the garishly pink slip of paper and to bitch out the first person who picks up the phone.

But then cooler heads prevail and reason starts to take hold. That’s when it dawns on you that – legally – these advertisers don’t have the right to leave things on your car without the permission of the property-holder. In this case, the charming Wynnsong theater.

So now your second reaction is to storm back into the theater and cram the piece of paper into the mouth of the first manager you’re put in front of.

But then you think about all those outstanding warrants you have and decide, “Eh. Probably for the best if I don’t add another one to the list.”

Ultimately, in a subtle form of protest, you toss the piece of paper on the ground like so much litter for some overworked, underpaid 15 year-old to sweep up on a slow day.

I don’t understand why this is an acceptable way to treat your customers. It’s like they are actively trying to find new ways to put more advertising in front of us like it’s some kind of test. “How long will it take before they snap?” I swear, if I’m in the men’s room and they sneak a vinyl sticker advertising the next Hillary Duff movie under the toilet seat, you can bet I’m pissing all over it in a form of protest.

Maybe I’m taking all of this too seriously, but I view movie houses as temples. Shrine to pop culture. It upsets me to see these venues and their customers treated so shoddily. ‘Makes me long for the doe-eyed simplicity of a movie house like the one in The Majestic. One theater. One screen. Martin Landau is the projectionist that lives in an apartment above the venue and the theater is operated by a kindly cross-section of quirky individuals.