Yes, we’re living through a global pandemic and COVID numbers are rising every day, but it’s still Rex Manning Day. Since the original release of “Empire Records,” my family has made it a point every April 8th to celebrate this very special, grungy, campy ‘90s time capsule of a movie. It’s already a shame that the country won’t recognize it as a federal holiday, but it’s even more devastating to think I’d have to miss out on it entirely just because of coronavirus.
Listen, I respect your choice to stay home and just post “Happy Rex Manning Day” on Facebook. So, why can’t you respect me going to visit my ailing grandmother to watch her once again don the black turtleneck and brood about gambling away the family’s entire fortune?
Is your definition of celebrating really my whole family using Skype to virtually stand on the roof and dance to “Sugarhigh?” God, I feel blasphemous even thinking about it.
Fine, I’ll miss out on the tradition of sitting with my family on the couch, high off our asses on mom’s weed brownies watching GWAR music videos. Guess we’ll just have to each sit in our rooms, totally sober, and enjoy “Saddam a Go-Go” alone. How sad is that?
If that doesn’t break your heart, think about having to tell my little niece, who’s been growing out her hair all year just so she could shave it off, that her uncle won’t be present at her mock funeral. Even worse, my other niece is going to be devastated when she finds out she’s not losing her virginity to a Rex Manning impersonator this year. She’s been waiting eighteen years for this, dancing to “Snakeface” every night and whispering “I’m not a baby anymore” in the mirror, and you’re just going to take that away from her?
Say no more, mon amour. I don’t want to hear it. Rex Manning Day is officially ruined.
But actually–– no, we mustn’t dwell. No, not today. We can’t. Not on Rex Manning Day! That’s why I’m getting on that plane and having the best Rex Manning Day a middle-aged, COVID-positive man can have. Damn the man!