About five years ago, I was in the midst of stepping back from a most destructive months-long binge. I was "withdrawing" quite uncomfortably, subsisting on cigarettes, Coca-Cola and TV. Or Wednesday, as it's now known.
Having just gotten a satellite, I was prithee to tons of channels carrying multitudes of bad movies (now showing: something called "Purgatory Flats.") On one particularly bleak day, I came across "It's Pat." Having been a huge fan of the SNL skit, I ignored the awful reviews the movie version had received.
"Patently atrocious in every conceivable way," according to someone named Scott Weinberg for something known as EFilmCritic.com.
I'm not going to say "It's Pat" is a good movie, or funny, or even entertaining. It does boast an extended cameo by the Ween brothers, and that's always a plus. But Julia Sweeney will always hold a special place in my heart for pulling me out of the (an) abyss.