The last purely escapist film viewing experience I had was probably Dredd. If it wasn’t Dredd, Dredd was the one before it. I don’t do escapist film viewing anymore, with the exception of bad movies, which I still consider enough to subsequently write a response for The Stop Button. I don’t actually remember when it provided escapist relief. It’s been a long, long time. Even when it’s something escapist I’m looking forward to seeing, I don’t go the escapist route. The last movie I watched alone, not for a podcast, not for a Stop Button response or commentary, was Man of Steel when it came out on disc. I needed to know if I was right. I was, which is fine—oh, and then I got in trouble for watching a Henry Cavill movie without my wife, who hates the movie, by the way—but it wasn’t escapist. Thanksgiving 2000 my best friend and I decided to intellectualize everything—except TV, but at this point, you sort of have to intellectualize it too or you’re going to waste time—and I haven’t been able to stop since. It might be why I enjoy video games so much without having any great interest in them. They’re challenging enough to engage, engaging enough to distract, distracting enough to escape. On a computer, a console, a flip phone, or an iPhone. They’re the last resort—which is why when I’m old I hope you just go to Amsterdam and live on a heroin drip while playing a VR game. I mean, why not. But now I’ve read Maugham’s Summing Up and I know that’d be a waste of the age’s opportunity. Or something along those lines. Something to justify hiding in a video game right now, a timer set to return me to this world. Oh, right—video games. Video games are solipsism. Perfect example. Isn’t everyone glad I learned that word?