You know what? Psycho II is a blast. Don’t get me wrong: It’s not Psycho. But then again, cake isn’t pizza. Doesn’t mean they aren’t both tasty. And to think, I avoided this movie for years, assuming that it was bound to be a terrible remake of a near-perfect film. Just like all those people assumed Norman Bates was somehow responsible for all those killings, just because he was responsible for all those previous killings. Shame on them, and shame on me.

Here’s a poem.


 I know what I did,
But I’m feeling much better.
Just ask my mother.