Let me introduce myself, I'm a man of worthless taste.
In a previous life, I wrote hundreds of magazine articles for dozens of magazines, reviewed over a thousand films on various BBC wireless stations and wrote a slack handful of books on the works of various directors.
Then I ... well ... I pretty much decided I'd done enough of that. I'd scratched that particular itch.
I had a stab at running an art-house cinema for a couple of years. This was an horizon-expanding experience but, regrettably, the job had very little to do with the actual films and much more to do with being a grown-up. The shirt and tie never suited me.
I went off and taught Film Studies instead. Made it fun. Took diabolical liberties with the syllabus. Failed to do any of the paperwork that mounds up around teachers and stops them seeing the point of teaching anymore. Never had a student fail.
I learned a lot from those seventeen and eighteen year-old sages. They reminded me about how movies looked to me when I was their age, in the early eighties, falling in love with my first movie mistresses.
It's important to remember why you love something ... especially when it is something as mercurial and evolutionary as movies. Or film. Either will do.
That's why, as I begin the inevitable process of buying all my favourite films AGAIN, this time on Blu-Ray, I begin to evaluate exactly why I love them and why I feel the irresistible urge to pay money for them for the third, fourth or umpty-tumpth time. Along with this rumination comes that old familiar feeling. That itch that I haven't felt for the thick end of a decade.
And so, now we're at the thin end of 'the noughties', within sight of another of those science-fiction dates - 2010 - I've decided to scratch that itch once again, right here ... By unfurling my worthless opinions through the medium of 'blog.
If you feel a burning desire to take my tirades to task, please bear in mind two things: Firstly, the name 'Cellulord' is meant to be sardonic rather than dogmatic, I'm not lord of anything really; and secondly ... something that I always try to remember:
" ... Opinions are like assholes, honey. Everybody's got one and everybody thinks everybody else's stinks."
(Charles Durning, 'Home For The Holidays', 1995)
That being so, this 'blog is consequently like my asshole.
Sorry, but there it is.