The guys who made "Ratatouille" clearly never heard about the Bubonic Plague.

"Watching Disney movies is such a Go-Co thing to do." Yes, it's been said to me. And I won't pretend it isn't true. This campus seems to have an almost inordinate love for all things Disney. At one time I would've rather done anything else on a Saturday night, but apparently part of me falling back in love with this place (which is a story unto itself) is being willing - no, eager - to spend "party night" in front of a TV watching movies intended for children half my age.

Last night's pick was Ratatouille, which I had never seen. It was cute. I laughed. I cheered when the bad guys got miraculously and outrageously owned. But I didn't feel the same sympathy I usually do for movie characters, regardless of species or intended audience, and I couldn't figure out why. I worried I was growing up and losing my ability to suspend disbelief. Yet as a writer and reader I know I'm still capable of investing in a story.

Then I realized the problem.

The movie is all about rats. My literature class just finished reading The Plague. So some little part of my brain cringed every time a rat scampered across a kitchen counter, subconsciously crying out "BLACK DEAAAAAATH!!!"

So not only was watching this movie "a Go-Co thing to do," it was also edumacational!

But other than that it was a pretty good movie. I especially liked that the awkward skinny hero's name was Linguini.


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