Two weeks ago I wrote: "And I can’t wait to spend a couple of days at the Film Forum with Roy Ward Baker’s Inferno and my 78th viewing of William Castle’s The Tingler—I hope with my normally horror-averse 12-year-old daughter. Really, it’s time to pull her away from Miley and Miranda and Selena and Justin and see something more worthy of one's screams." Well, Inferno was absolutely wonderful, but The Tingler... didn't happen. See, in the last month, Lucy paddled rapids and dived from 25 feet into a quarry in Vermont. She dazzled us all yesterday at Governor's Island in a trapeze class, flying through the air, catching her catcher's hands with supreme poise... But she refused, she absolutely, positively, stop bugging me, Dad, refused to see The Tingler. And such is the fate of a horror geek with two beautiful daughters. (The other daughter is eight and even more horror-averse--and, by the way, she was dazzling on the trapeze, too.) Is it the Marquis De Sade pulling the strings? Will no one relive my youth with me?