Pardon me while I rant

Last night, Jim and I (adults, at least most of the time) went to see "Public Enemies," about John Dillinger and his pals and their heyday robbing banks before the mob took over and ruined everything (!) .

What caught my eye - and raised my eyebrow a foot - was a man who brought a little boy about Matt's age, say 4 or 5, with him. I was wondering, while also contemplating leaping over my seat back and chewing him out, what his thought process was before coming to the movie. (Assuming he had such a process, of course, which may be incorrect.)

--"Hey, here's a movie about gangsters. They usually end up dead. I'll bring my son."
--"Hey, here's an R-rated movie with a guy with a machine gun on the poster. I'll bring my son."
--"Hey, they made a movie about John Dillinger, who I believe hung around with people who were kind of crazy, and was shot to death on a Chicago sidewalk. I'll bring my son."

One of those must have been the winner, because there he was. What a jerk. I sat there and worried about the little boy. Not what I pay for when I go to the movies. Stupidity I can get for free out on the street.