of all the times that i've watched scrapple (some 100) in all kinds of venues (at 3 in the morning on a couch with other bar stragglers, at new york film festivals), nothing compared to seeing it in its hometown at mountain film festival, with a hometown crowd as they whooped and yelped at all the local references, ski town tributes and cameo performances (all of which still has appeal to broader less tuned-in audiences). it was like a screening of rocky horror picture show with the same level of participation and more; singing, line-readings, cat calls, wolf whistles, salutes (to Charlie Fowler and Bill Fandel). ten years down the road -- and still going strong -- scrapple has endured as a classic, and judging from last week's screening, it continues to mark a time, not only in skitown history, but as a way of life still worth celebrating.