When I was a kid, I became so appalled with the antagonist of, “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle,” that in the scene where the babysitter gets pushed out the window, I felt like rejoicing because the family was finally free of the malice she subjected them to. Mom told me not to revel in the death of person, even if they weren’t nice. That’s stuck with me. In class when I see the films of (certain) people in the streets rejoicing over Hiroshima and Nagasaki, it really doesn’t sit well with me. It’s not ok to kill real people then cheer.