Two weeks ago, I was dragged to the theater to see “Get Out,” a movie I had already dubbed the worst movie of 2017. I went reluctantly, having run out of excuses not to go. I hadn’t even bothered watching the entire trailer. All I knew was that Jordan Peele, a well known comedian, was attempting to tackle issues of racism in the form of a “thriller,” and I simply wasn’t interested. But there I was, front and center, at a movie theater in Southwest Atlanta, surrounded by other anxious movie goers. Luckily, I also had a frozen margarita. This was the moment of truth.