Hello, and welcome back. You may want to leave now. What follows is sure to be one of the worst Shock-O-Rama Poster Shows ever. I am not being hyperbolic. It’s bad. How bad is it? If you must know, stick around. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Proceed at your own risk. Stomach distress bags will not be available. Let’s get this over with… On Friday, November 7, I looked through the peep hole on my front door. There, on the porch, was a long rectangular box. I wasn’t expecting anything. I quickly pulled it into the house. (I was in my underwear —eeek!—and what little hair hasn’t fallen off my head yet was sprayed out all over the place like a mad scientist.) I looked at the label and saw that it was from my friend Gillian and her husband Jason . Jason works for UPS , which this package had been sent through. Occasionally, Jason will get a package of posters destined for a movie theater that no longer exists. He is supposed to destroy the posters, but he has taken to saving them...