Imagine my dismay when, after 61 years of waiting, I was finally ready to see Citizen Kane this week, only to have it ruined for me by some wise-ass video store clerk.

Better yet, instead of imagining it all, which can be confusing and you surely won't get all the details right, let me tell you directly all about it.

It seems like every time I've gone and talked about movies—I'm quick to brag about having seen them all—someone asks me a quick list of which "great" movies I've seen. The Godfather? No, but I saw clips from it. Star Wars? Yes, the first one, Episode I, but none of that raunchy '70s stuff. The 400 Blows? I said "movies," buddy, not "snuff films." Citizen Kane?

Now that's a curious title. Is it kung fu? Is it a cop drama? No, they tell me, it's about Orson Welles as a man who comes from a meager background and grows into a newspaper magnate who rules with an iron thumb like a tyrant.

Finally, a movie for Red Bagel!

I immediately wanted to see it, but my schedule would not permit movie viewing. I had scandals to uncover, and angry letters to write to Ted Turner. But I knew sometime I would have a spare two hours and could watch a movie, especially if it was about something I genuinely enjoy, like losing contact with your humble beginnings.

Finally, that court order not to investigate further into the McDonald's fish sandwich slowed down my workload immensely. With a little bit of time to kill, I went to the video store, which is apparently some sort of place that lends you movies to watch at home on the condition you bring them back. Strangely, it actually works.

I found the film I wanted and brought it up to the counter, where the video store clerk, a young scoundrel named "Ryan," immediately began to praise the film intensely. He had first seen it in high school, in some sort of movie-watching class, I guess, and it had been a favorite ever since. He said he enjoyed it so much that he didn't even care if they found out who "Rosebud" was when they revealed it at the end. And me, of course, not wanting to seem like I hadn't seen a movie that some video store punk had seen in high school, said, "Oh, yeah, Rosebud. That was the dog, right?" He laughed at me as if I had made a joke, which I then said I had, and told me Rosebud was a… well, I won't ruin it for you, too.

This is ridiculous, Americans. I rented the video and tried not to let my disappointment show, but I had every right to refuse to pay for it. Video store clerks are now the bane of my existence, or one of 35 banes, I should say. What kind of person talks about the ending of a movie with someone just because they have a reasonable basis for assuming that person has seen it? It's just not right.

There is no point in watching Citizen Kane now. I can't remember what got me so excited about it in the first place, but obviously I'm not going to sit through a 2-hour movie about some sled. Er… I mean… Well, screw it. Ryan ruined it for me, why shouldn't you be miserable, too?

Maybe they should come out with alternate endings for movies. Release a new Citizen Kane where Rosebud is some old player piano and another where Rosebud is a cookie recipe. Just to liven things up. You rent the movie and you never know what it's going to be at the end.

All I know is this is yet another movie secret ruined for me by loudmouth "movie fans" who can't shut up and assume you've seen a movie just because you've nodded when they ask if you've seen it. The little kid grows up to be Darth Vader in that movie, the man in drag in The Crying Game is really a man, and Michael Corleone is in the mafia. There. Now that we all know everything let's none of us see another movie again.

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