Now, I'm no film-maker, but I do believe that I have captured a riveting moment, on film, that could have possibly made Orson Welles spit out the twelve Ho-Ho's that were most likely crammed into his pie-hole and bellow, "WHAT THE SHIT?!"
It's two days before Mr. Z's eighth birthday and, to put it mildly, he's out of his fucking mind. He's bouncing off the walls, literally... no, seriously, LITERALLY, he's pleading to open up "just one" present before Saturday, and he's on an emotional rollercoaster that has long-ago shot off the tracks and is rocketing southward on "The I'm-Losing-My-Shit Express."
This short film, shot on my digital camera [and I didn't even realize I could shoot movies on the fucking thing before tonight -- I know! Technology, man... it's the schnizzle-dizzle!] was taken minutes before bedtime tonight and perfectly encapsulates, in six seconds, exactly what happens when Mr. Z simply gives up all self-control and surrenders himself to the whims of his powerful and unhinged Id.
I call it, "Legfarts Before Tears."