I confidently submit that you are a demented crone who probably accidentally dropped his tickets into a blockbuster return slot and who even in your stupefied state if you are able to happen across the towering slanted dome structure, visible from blocks away and whose horizon-stamping vastness is the source of additional bewildering derision, will try to seek admission with six mistakenly toted copies of “Throw Mama From the Train” and a half a stick of gum.