tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73397680930891902282024-03-18T02:03:25.201-04:00Smother GooseA treasury of traumatic children's talesSmother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.comBlogger88125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-79652917496638393022014-03-23T14:49:00.000-04:002014-04-03T13:27:48.032-04:00Balloons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguk2WTlZ2GjW8r_MwPXUGdUN6bFsq0x5sauBVxR4hmpJUXZXsZ_zBlqSTHQdd_N0kTwWcJCGvhF90OQfjQzvR4fAXXffai6OD2H5FEwhgg52Ig5c1a9xqSF-eoEz-8jLY9R3cFT_qMXjx5/s1600/balloon-pop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguk2WTlZ2GjW8r_MwPXUGdUN6bFsq0x5sauBVxR4hmpJUXZXsZ_zBlqSTHQdd_N0kTwWcJCGvhF90OQfjQzvR4fAXXffai6OD2H5FEwhgg52Ig5c1a9xqSF-eoEz-8jLY9R3cFT_qMXjx5/s1600/balloon-pop.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://lauralavigne.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/balloon-pop.jpg">via</a></td></tr>
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Balloons are an intrinsic part of childhood. Balloons mean birthday parties, fun fairs, or even handy <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=95Oj9QhHzbA">tools for getting honey</a>!<br />
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Every time a child sees a balloon he imagines a kind of lifelong <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e2Y1tRBOXfA">Lamorisse</a>-style friendship where the two will be an inseparable pair, or perhaps he dreams that the balloon will carry him away on a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1NLzBGJavc">marvelous adventure</a>.<br />
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But in reality, a balloon serves as a lesson in the fragility of our existence, a gravity-defying <i>memento mori</i> that we give to children in order to remind them of the pain of unrequited love and the futility of attempting to hold onto our dreams.<br />
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Let me elaborate. The trajectory of the average helium balloon is similar to that of the carnival goldfish: you get one for cheap (or free), and at first, it's delightful. It catches the eye, it moves and sways, it's shiny. Other children pass by eyeing it enviously, begging their own mothers to get them one, too. You are on top of the world.<br />
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But then you realize what a burden your new prized possession actually is. Much like a high schooler who's been assigned a raw egg to treat like a baby, you quickly learn that you can't really do much while holding this thing. Where can you even put it safely in the car for the drive home?<br />
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And when--not if but when--if the balloon goes "belly up," so to speak, and floats off into the ether, or hits a lightbulb and vaporizes, or simply runs out of air and loses its will to live, you are devastated.<br />
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<a href="http://perfectlycursedlife.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/blanche-popping-balloon.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="http://perfectlycursedlife.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/blanche-popping-balloon.gif" border="0" class="decoded" src="http://perfectlycursedlife.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/blanche-popping-balloon.gif" /></a></div>
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You wonder why you even kept it around as long as you did and didn't just go straight to getting a cheap thrill off using the helium to sound like "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZyQxTWDLZ8o&feature=kp">The Laughing Gnome</a>."<br />
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<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it probably wasn't a balloon.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B003BXO9HI/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B003BXO9HI&linkCode=as2&tag=smothe-20"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Purchase your own inflatable child-depression device here </span></a></div>
Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-1167119906621759682013-12-20T11:58:00.001-05:002013-12-20T11:58:39.158-05:00The Island of Dr. Moreau's Misfit Toys, Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Earlier I wrote about the <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2012/02/island-of-misfit-toys.html">Alien Giraffe</a> phenomenon in children's toys. (Giraffes have horns in real life, not antennae.) Since then, I've noticed another curious trend: animals with dog noses.</div>
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Dog noses look something like this:</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://musicalnose.com/media/sides/wet-dog-nose-by-ItsGreg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="http://musicalnose.com/media/sides/wet-dog-nose-by-ItsGreg.jpg" border="0" class="decoded overflowing" height="150" src="http://musicalnose.com/media/sides/wet-dog-nose-by-ItsGreg.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://musicalnose.com/media/sides/wet-dog-nose-by-ItsGreg.jpg">via</a></td></tr>
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Now, that's a dog nose on an actual dog. Dogs can and should have dog noses; it is normal, and good, and cute. But you know what doesn't have a dog nose?<br />
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A goat.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zQrN3_tATkkc-pGTnqVK04_uS2eHayVym5hkU1IqGFS7huVpiZAf3A4MkbPy1s9xk54RkiGyWmIPUEsRX5ts5OtepHSyPfOhQBLBDm-uk73axP2wDCcp5TBdLP6SLFe6jwjvEoGPpT2k/s1600/P7190136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zQrN3_tATkkc-pGTnqVK04_uS2eHayVym5hkU1IqGFS7huVpiZAf3A4MkbPy1s9xk54RkiGyWmIPUEsRX5ts5OtepHSyPfOhQBLBDm-uk73axP2wDCcp5TBdLP6SLFe6jwjvEoGPpT2k/s200/P7190136.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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For comparison, here's what a goat nose really looks like:</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="http://www.southernstates.com/images/fauna/goat-face.jpg" class="decoded" height="138" src="http://www.southernstates.com/images/fauna/goat-face.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://www.southernstates.com/images/fauna/goat-face.jpg">via</a></td></tr>
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Not the same.</div>
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The goat isn't even that egregious, but how about an even more familiar barnyard animal?<br />
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Here is a bull...</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2345/2060146407_bfcd286823_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2345/2060146407_bfcd286823_z.jpg" border="0" class="decoded" height="133" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2345/2060146407_bfcd286823_z.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2345/2060146407_bfcd286823_z.jpg">via</a></td></tr>
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And here is a bull with a dog's nose and cleft lip:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7GK8BVLrf5-_UMS7pbnDZGQ1gjXop54jDF3sC0P6w9Boe54ZagR2dpdd14zq6pMwsYIjUcZFPVdLow-0EojNl9qFEYVs7_y3n_dwu0MEIMdipDKtA4E444lfTepvkUJ0zEozKeRDSJwS9/s1600/024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7GK8BVLrf5-_UMS7pbnDZGQ1gjXop54jDF3sC0P6w9Boe54ZagR2dpdd14zq6pMwsYIjUcZFPVdLow-0EojNl9qFEYVs7_y3n_dwu0MEIMdipDKtA4E444lfTepvkUJ0zEozKeRDSJwS9/s320/024.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Now, look to the left of the bull. See that monkey? Its nose looks pretty good, doesn't it?<br />
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Let's compare:</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="http://ih0.redbubble.net/image.11282260.1534/flat,550x550,075,f.u1.jpg" class="decoded" height="132" src="http://ih0.redbubble.net/image.11282260.1534/flat,550x550,075,f.u1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://ih0.redbubble.net/image.11282260.1534/flat,550x550,075,f.u1.jpg">via</a></td></tr>
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Close enough. But now you know what's coming, don't you?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6IgaifGnOpA5nOLpTptxqQz-_lzMkZWZc59nIGGhb311qL-_GX_55Y3GpoxvtN_t3Gg5GuWGBRIpHyNDBHw1gC5eTmeEpUPe1u0xR7UqFO2Fkw4nsFbqpCOe_SMD7aGm2y0yIKzRXXrKx/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6IgaifGnOpA5nOLpTptxqQz-_lzMkZWZc59nIGGhb311qL-_GX_55Y3GpoxvtN_t3Gg5GuWGBRIpHyNDBHw1gC5eTmeEpUPe1u0xR7UqFO2Fkw4nsFbqpCOe_SMD7aGm2y0yIKzRXXrKx/s200/016.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6I_8Lb-WE7FaoUWI1qUWqn1NfqBE7ftlrHChAAZcoHYdgnon3COmfCyVZ5094vcb8R_a_u1ZtxUyCMWQGVpTPF2q24jxdXGNZGonh0b36uJmoUGRKV_562kACTtB3iihUJIW3PtZ7UlMk/s1600/017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6I_8Lb-WE7FaoUWI1qUWqn1NfqBE7ftlrHChAAZcoHYdgnon3COmfCyVZ5094vcb8R_a_u1ZtxUyCMWQGVpTPF2q24jxdXGNZGonh0b36uJmoUGRKV_562kACTtB3iihUJIW3PtZ7UlMk/s200/017.JPG" width="199" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikyrnbMmw_QyQ49I9JQmeNQH4bPHwtQc0bY9jiT_4qqAs_yLoZVENWyCB_QWx0xZIHGhr6hAUiHR9_STdD1XJRVOaznUKQgrJrslMfzBxpVGcJIyHEEQ0IYIdOvLbQaswIyze8u9ieNZ-a/s1600/026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikyrnbMmw_QyQ49I9JQmeNQH4bPHwtQc0bY9jiT_4qqAs_yLoZVENWyCB_QWx0xZIHGhr6hAUiHR9_STdD1XJRVOaznUKQgrJrslMfzBxpVGcJIyHEEQ0IYIdOvLbQaswIyze8u9ieNZ-a/s200/026.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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Monkeys with dog noses: </div>
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the link that should have stayed missing.</div>
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Perhaps I'm expecting too much of the children's toy manufacturers. After all, we've read about the exploits of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001MFNB7G/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B001MFNB7G&linkCode=as2&tag=smothe-20">Curious George</a> for decades without ever quibbling that he's a chimpanzee and therefore a type of ape, not a "curious little monkey" after all. Perhaps childhood is not the time to debate zoological taxonomies, or even basic realities of what animals are and what they do; after all, this is a time when a lion and giraffe can be BFFs.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO74K-1PvAwY9cGty8I-EUznwHe0nEi4inK2GyUC7fy-wXmcVabCdFZvf51NLHfa6rZK4VxdaJ2GW90MCyoA99VaMcqIUsUgqxHDqO9cq22krxusGq-wH2vIniUy0Hgq5YFhyPoXwGx-7K/s1600/P7190138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO74K-1PvAwY9cGty8I-EUznwHe0nEi4inK2GyUC7fy-wXmcVabCdFZvf51NLHfa6rZK4VxdaJ2GW90MCyoA99VaMcqIUsUgqxHDqO9cq22krxusGq-wH2vIniUy0Hgq5YFhyPoXwGx-7K/s200/P7190138.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
Nothing's quite as heartwarming as a cold, wet nose.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000M49MO4/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B000M49MO4&linkCode=as2&tag=smothe-20">Get your own dog-nosed monkey teether!</a></span></div>
<br />Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-75467722492504702772013-02-26T14:55:00.002-05:002013-02-28T07:07:51.555-05:00"Annie"<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ZnTBaOqmLlNAxpXlCCk9f8l8HF7urZa8N41TLB7g_RemDvQp81Zt2DzJHAlVhtgBEotviF7FrYq2_HC4ee2TyfgcabUu2WFT4Wly5-iNBQA8jKn-zMTi-5dPs5GARiwgFsj01iS13lZc/s1600/6a015431fc4e55970c017c331d6f3c970b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ZnTBaOqmLlNAxpXlCCk9f8l8HF7urZa8N41TLB7g_RemDvQp81Zt2DzJHAlVhtgBEotviF7FrYq2_HC4ee2TyfgcabUu2WFT4Wly5-iNBQA8jKn-zMTi-5dPs5GARiwgFsj01iS13lZc/s200/6a015431fc4e55970c017c331d6f3c970b.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://riotandfrolic.typepad.com/blog/2012/11/smooky-2.html">via</a></td></tr>
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The news that they're making a new film version of the musical <i>Annie</i> dredged up memories of watching the original 1982 film while hiding under an afghan, covering my eyes. <br />
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Now, for all intents and purposes, I really should like <i>Annie.</i> Heck, I should <i>love</i> it-- I'm a big fan of musicals, Carol Burnett, Bernadette Peters, and Tim Curry--heck, who <i>doesn't</i> love Tim Curry?--but oh, <i>Annie</i> terrified me.<br />
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<i>Annie</i> tells the story of the tiny orphan victim of an abusive alcoholic sadist. Cheery, right? Along the way, there's animal abuse (the threat of Sandy getting sent off to the <i>sausage factory</i>?), pervasive Orientalist racism (his <i>name</i> is "Punjab?" Really?), a terrorist bomb plot (drat those Bolsheviks!), and the revelation that Annie's parents were killed in a fire (<a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/bon-voyage-charlie-brown.html">Aaugh</a>! <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/uncle-arthurs-bedtime-stories-mother.html">Fire</a>!).<br />
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I remember when I cowered during the "Little Girls" musical number, as Miss Hannigan vowed to "step on their freckles," my mother comforted me by assuring me that "in real life, Carol Burnett was actually a very nice, very funny lady." This led to my (erroneous) years-long belief that my mother was somehow BFFs with the Queen of Television Comedy.<br />
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I will say, in <i>Annie</i>'s defense, that I'm sure it's hard to make an uplifting musical comedy about the Great Depression. That, and I'm eternally grateful that the eponymous little red-mopped ragamuffin on film didn't have the same soulless, blank-eyed stare as her comic strip counterpart.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm4RehgDnj_CP79eaTDvMIeRoOKCGmWZ6F-KEtmonEqrtyI3eEVO_FYCFB_7br7pMRnyTDxzEWVc4N7ITp01Lvd4mTCqlVUkle4B1dC-dqRtbK5q3nfbUscH-BiGojY2CPVdUrBXHve2I4/s1600/annie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm4RehgDnj_CP79eaTDvMIeRoOKCGmWZ6F-KEtmonEqrtyI3eEVO_FYCFB_7br7pMRnyTDxzEWVc4N7ITp01Lvd4mTCqlVUkle4B1dC-dqRtbK5q3nfbUscH-BiGojY2CPVdUrBXHve2I4/s200/annie.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://voices.washingtonpost.com/comic-riffs/annie.jpg">via</a></td></tr>
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<br />
<i>Shudder.</i><br />
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<b>Lesson Learned:</b><br />
No one cares for you a smidge when you're in an orphanage.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Annie</i>. Dir. John Huston. Perf. Carol Burnett, Albert Finney, Ann Reinking. Columbia, 1982.</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0000VCZKM/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B0000VCZKM&linkCode=as2&tag=smothe-20" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Annie (Special Anniversary Edition)</a>Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-30138945639311462022012-06-30T17:47:00.003-04:002012-07-07T18:01:38.096-04:00"Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory"<div style="text-align: right;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipGf8ujhEUX4BPoC2Oci1CjEtsWi6WlJNAbJAyaS3TR6Y0EHbg7bq2CG8d6DMu0ryCiIhgZKNCMVG3vbd5IoWySxRH2d4b9eDX3qhQrHJmh7b-eoxFbn7DMsohIGQCSyx6pEW2fwuaPNEi/s1600/genewilder-e1339684556207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipGf8ujhEUX4BPoC2Oci1CjEtsWi6WlJNAbJAyaS3TR6Y0EHbg7bq2CG8d6DMu0ryCiIhgZKNCMVG3vbd5IoWySxRH2d4b9eDX3qhQrHJmh7b-eoxFbn7DMsohIGQCSyx6pEW2fwuaPNEi/s200/genewilder-e1339684556207.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://splitsider.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/genewilder-e1339684556207.jpg">via</a></td></tr>
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Let's get the obvious out of the way: the infamous <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Zail7Gdqro">boat ride</a> from the 1971 movie <i>Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory</i> might be one of the single most disturbing scenes in all of children's filmdom. It just comes out of nowhere--first you're in a magical candyland where the river is chocolate and the daffodils are edible teacups, and next thing you know, you're thrust into some acid-dropping film student's homage to <i>Un Chien Andalou</i>. <br />
<br />
<i>What just slithered across that dude's face? Wait--what just happened to that chicken? Did it just <b>get</b> <b>its</b></i><i> <b>head cut off</b>? There's no <b>decapitation</b> in kids' movies! </i><br />
<br />
When the 2005 film <i>Charlie and the Chocolate Factory</i> came out, it sparked a wave of nostalgia among people who'd watched the original version as kids. The boat scene was seen as a rite of passage, something that scared us all senseless as kids but which was almost laughable now: a kind of trippy cinematic non sequitur.<br />
<br />
But no one really seemed to talk about the actual <i>message</i> of the 1971 movie-- a movie that, it's worth noting, changed the title of the original book (<i>Charlie and the Chocolate Factory</i>) to <i>Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory</i>, which suggests that it is the eponymous chocolatier, not the Dickensian pauper boy with a heart of gold, who is the film's protagonist.<br />
<br />
And what does Willy Wonka do? He metes out justice as he sees fit, punishing those whom he deems unworthy and rewarding (after berating and terrifying) the worthy. Yes, he's a bug-eyed, nougat-making, Old Testament-style Santa Claus.<br />
<br />
So theoretically he humiliates/disfigures/maims/kills(?[!]) only the "bad" kids, right? Which is how most people remember the movie: bad eggs who had it coming to them get their just des(s)erts.<br />
<br />
My problem was that I <i>was</i> all of those kids. I loved chocolate! I would uncurl the outer layer of a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001TKA1AE/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B001TKA1AE" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Little Debbie Swiss Cake Roll</a> and eat it as a sheet before unrolling the cake part and licking off the frosting (heaven!). I loved to chew gum! I would buy pack after pack of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000ODW8JO/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B000ODW8JO" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Freshen Up Gum</a>, with its burst of minty juice inside that lasted all of five sweet seconds. I loved TV! I mean, just look at <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/">this ridiculous blog</a>. And, while I hope I wasn't half as demanding as Veruca Salt, I <i>did</i> spend a lot of time loudly lobbying to get <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/09/doggone-it.html">a pet</a>--maybe not a golden goose, but still.<br />
<br />
So you can imagine the paranoia I felt during my first trip to Hershey Park. Any old sadistic cane-toting curmudgeon who hated the way that kids today liked <i>gum </i>and<i> chocolate </i>and<i> television </i>and<i> things</i> could do terrible things to you with no repercussions and probably even get his own movie named after him provided he sang some catchy tunes.<br />
<br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
Oompa loompa doompadee dare<br />
It doesn't really seem very fair<br />
Oompa
loompa doompadee drat<br />
To <i>incinerate</i> a kid for being a brat<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory</i>. Dir. Mel Stuart. Perf. Gene Wilder, Jack Albertson, Peter Ostrum. Paramount, 1971.</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B005F96UJ6/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B005F96UJ6" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Buy <i>Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory</i> DVD</a>Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-81617383000488769292012-06-13T12:22:00.000-04:002012-07-07T18:01:48.832-04:00Lefty from "Sesame Street"<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYeL3tSgf7oQVuPHFovruNsXd32TKK9AFX2UvVQQrXPSGoxdLXbl92DrngsVCfG3GGEVRQy5_qRCJva6UljPnX0foFXjZo1i00AobM9-h5LeWbp3nQ2Y1qbj_bJqZJHJpqltf8xoOYCmp3/s1600/Ernie8Salesman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYeL3tSgf7oQVuPHFovruNsXd32TKK9AFX2UvVQQrXPSGoxdLXbl92DrngsVCfG3GGEVRQy5_qRCJva6UljPnX0foFXjZo1i00AobM9-h5LeWbp3nQ2Y1qbj_bJqZJHJpqltf8xoOYCmp3/s200/Ernie8Salesman.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://muppet.wikia.com/wiki/Lefty_the_Salesman">via</a></td></tr>
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"Sesame Street" has a lot to answer for, from the creepy visuals of "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vftf8TTve4s">Twin Beaks</a>" to the heartbreak of "<a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/07/follow-that-bird.html">Follow That Bird</a>." But one of the strangest things about "Sesame Street," bar none, has to be its inclusion of a kiddie-friendly flasher.<br />
<br />
OK, maybe <i>now</i> I realize he wasn't necessarily supposed to be a flasher--perhaps he was meant to be more akin to... an inept drug dealer? an unsavory knockoff Rolex salesman?<br />
<br />
But really, a shady character luring you over just so he can open his trenchcoat to show you something? You can see how I remembered him as a flasher.<br />
<br />
Apparently his name was "Lefty," and he's absent from the current incarnation of the show, and for good reason. He was always approaching the other characters and trying to get them to buy whatever letter happened to be under his coat at the time. Would you like to see his D? Maybe a little T and A? Fancy a nice F? It's easy to see how Lefty could be rated X.<br />
<br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
When Lefty asks you "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ml6Yqu-spnM">Would you like to buy an O?</a>," it's best to remember that that's only legal in the state of Nevada.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004GCAH0Q/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B004GCAH0Q" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Buy <i>Sesame Street: The Muppet Alphabet Album</i>, Vol. 2</a>Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-32559725762464482502012-05-20T21:46:00.001-04:002012-07-07T18:01:59.675-04:00"Psalty"<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEZTr3SeNVpWvGgT1ohcsNVwrXp2r0KmMYJHlLpvcPCLLzw5qPnjRTdKZBJg6RbOuMbN0nUMRoRUC-Vb1qYp3anqcF1p7N37_i5n_uRozafVJVUJ-ZyklbMs4s9GdUfnPJQ-rbDgaIQZ3v/s1600/61W88U+OA0L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEZTr3SeNVpWvGgT1ohcsNVwrXp2r0KmMYJHlLpvcPCLLzw5qPnjRTdKZBJg6RbOuMbN0nUMRoRUC-Vb1qYp3anqcF1p7N37_i5n_uRozafVJVUJ-ZyklbMs4s9GdUfnPJQ-rbDgaIQZ3v/s200/61W88U+OA0L.jpg" width="108" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0000031E2/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B0000031E2%22%3ESalvation%20Celebration%20[VHS]%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B0000031E2%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20%21important;%20margin:0px%20%21important;%22%20/%3E">via</a></td></tr>
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I still was listening to LPs as a kid. There wasn't a large selection for me to choose from (that interested me, anyway--I wasn't one much for Dionne Warwick or Roger Whittaker), so there were a select few we kept in constant rotation. Chief among these was the Psalty series, which followed the adventures of a "big... blue... singing... songbook!" While an anthropomorphized hymnal might not seem like the most appealing--or marketable--of children's characters, Psalty and his retinue of spunky children sang a lot of catchy tunes and it was always fun to sing along.<br />
<br />
I never knew until recently that there were <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wW7KcTAvI3w">videos</a> to go with the audio of the Kids' Praise albums-- and it's a darn good thing, too. Psalty appears as a man in gold facepaint with blue Bob Ross-like facial hair, and Charity Churchmouse has flesh-colored prosthetic <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/03/dumbo.html">Dumbo</a> ears and a '50s-style circle skirt and looks like she just ducked out of a low-rent Furry Convention. <br />
<br />
The album featuring Charity had one profoundly scary moment for me, when she has a nightmare that the conman Risky Rat is trying to lure her into signing a "con-trap"--I mean "contract," and make her his "slave"--er, that is--his "star." Without being able to see Risky Rat, I was able to conjure up an image of him that was truly terrifying: a kind of cross between <a href="http://disney.wikia.com/wiki/Ratigan">Ratigan</a> from <i>The Great Mouse Detective </i>and <a href="http://anamericantail.wikia.com/wiki/Warren_T._Rat">Warren T. Rat</a> from <i>An American Tail</i>, with a little <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/secret-of-nimh.html">Jenner</a> from The Secret of NIMH thrown in. <br />
<br />
Still, nothing would have been quite as scary as the way Risky Rat is depicted in the video <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uBlWHuplK14"><i>Psalty's Salvation Celebration</i></a>, in which the whiskers-twirling villain actually tries to prevent children from saving their immortal souls (!!!). <br />
<br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
Always take a talent agent's promises with a grain of Psalt.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="parseasinTitle ">
<span id="btAsinTitle"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Kid's Praise! 4: Singsational Servants</i>. Perf. Ernie Rettino. Maranatha Music, 1984.</span></span></div>
Watch Kids' Praise 4 on YouTube <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wW7KcTAvI3w">here</a> (Risky Rat appears around 32:00).<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001167XYS/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B001167XYS" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Buy <i>Psalty Kid's Praise! 4 Singsational Servants</i> CD</a>Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-72890311302830188112012-05-06T12:56:00.001-04:002012-07-07T18:02:09.875-04:00"Pecos Bill"<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg41Z_w_8boy6QKlsQiK_QZkq1XAOFnMh05wI31Ugaf86cRmq7iQTGx507vt64dGYq5LGo205pvKgRoRHSavIZkE_g-8n1tFoAlDNDRvLN0iFPn96QObYRB0ARatXQpjbM1l5Z3IKG9nfCj/s1600/pecossmoke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg41Z_w_8boy6QKlsQiK_QZkq1XAOFnMh05wI31Ugaf86cRmq7iQTGx507vt64dGYq5LGo205pvKgRoRHSavIZkE_g-8n1tFoAlDNDRvLN0iFPn96QObYRB0ARatXQpjbM1l5Z3IKG9nfCj/s200/pecossmoke.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://www.cartoonbrew.com/archives/pecossmoke.jpg">via</a></td></tr>
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Where I live, it's been over 100<span class="st">°F lately, and as I walk across parking lots in oven-like conditions, seeing the horizon line itself writhe with the heat, I've found myself thinking of "Pecos Bill."</span><br />
<br />
Then, once I started thinking about it, I found I couldn't stop. I was trying to decide if all my memories of the cartoon could possibly be real, or if I'd embellished them in my nightmares. Did it <i>truly</i> feature interspecies suckling, <span style="font-size: small;"><span dir="auto">à </span></span>la Romulus and Remus? Was there <i>actually</i> a scene where the hero rides a cyclone, rolls a cigarette on his tongue, and lights it with a lightning bolt? Did he <i>really</i> take potshots at Indians donning warpaint until he'd created the Painted Desert? And were Roy Rogers and Trigger somehow involved?<br />
<br />
So I watched it again to find out.<br />
<br />
The cartoon starts with Bill as a toddler heading west with his family, until the wagon hits a bump and baby Bill goes flying out and lands in the mud. Since he's one of 16 children, nobody notices or cares. (As a member of a large family myself--my name was often confused with a brother's, or another brother's, or a sister's, or, more often, the dog's--this was a particular childhood fear of mine realized.)<br />
<br />
He's then raised by coyotes (a childhood <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/julie-of-wolves.html"><i>dream</i></a> of mine realized, though yanking a coyote pup off its mother's teat to feed was perhaps a bit too visceral for me).<br />
<br />
One day, young Bill sees a young colt near death and being attacked by buzzards. Bill jumps into the fray and pummels the birds so hard their feathers fly off. In the aftermath, when Bill and the colt gaze at each other through matching blackened eyes, it is, as the narrator says, "the beginning of a bee-yoo-tiful friendship." They seal the deal with an Eskimo kiss.<br />
<br />
In fact, "Pecos Bill" is a love story in the same vein as <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000BC8T0U/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B000BC8T0U" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Passion In The Desert</a></i>. Sure, later on Bill enters a more conventional romantic relationship with Slue-Foot Sue, but his partner for life is surely Widowmaker, his horse. They laugh alike, they walk alike, at times they even talk alike-- well, yodel, anyway. When Bill begins to woo Sue, we see Widowmaker looking on and weeping. Then when Bill and Sue decide to get married, Sue wants two things: a bustle and a chance to ride Widowmaker. In a jealous rage, Widowmaker bucks so hard that Sue's bustle bounces off his hide and sends her sailing off "like a Roman candle." (The fact that a rootin'-tootin' catfish-ridin' cowgirl like Sue is undone by such a frivolous a symbol of womanly vanity seems uncharacteristic, but oh well.)<br />
<br />
Bill tries to lasso Sue to bring her back down, but Widowmaker sabotages the attempt, and Sue winds up landing on the moon. Bill goes back to living with the coyotes, and he and Widowmaker live out their days together.<br />
<br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him like your girlfriend. <b><br /></b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">"Pecos Bill." <i>Melody Time</i>. Perf. Roy Rogers, Bob Nolan. Disney, 1948.</span><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00004R99D/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00004R99D" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Buy <i>Melody Time</i> (Disney Gold Classic Collection) DVD</a>Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-50380511484565556552012-04-16T19:08:00.003-04:002012-07-07T18:02:31.394-04:00"Fuzzy Bee and Friends"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgimc73pUm2RBDPQoQ9YCxizunl8WFAoQVs_eGSVhMr-P9OGE7bt6iZqSDy5Ju8gzb30BHjf2DC-VwQfDAVCHIT3Z8XnQiOzbMa-FWGwQROFPW4funElDaSjBasHMk4QOrZpXu7vAZ-A_jY/s1600/P4160003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgimc73pUm2RBDPQoQ9YCxizunl8WFAoQVs_eGSVhMr-P9OGE7bt6iZqSDy5Ju8gzb30BHjf2DC-VwQfDAVCHIT3Z8XnQiOzbMa-FWGwQROFPW4funElDaSjBasHMk4QOrZpXu7vAZ-A_jY/s200/P4160003.JPG" width="198" /></a></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>A Smother Goose literature review </i></div>
<br />
First off, the title is misleading (beyond the fact that you'll need to avoid calling it "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_KrSWI8F2E">Busy Bee</a>" by mistake). Like Godot, Fuzzy Bee never actually appears. His likeness graces the cover but is nowhere to be found inside.<br />
<br />
Anyway, Fuzzy Bee has a posse. It seems implausible that a bee would have allies as diverse as a snail or a worm--given that it spends most of its time in a hive full of other bees--so if your child is well-versed in apiology, he or she might have some questions about this. (For the less informed child, you might also wish to explain that not <i>every</i> part of a bee is "fuzzy.")<br />
<br />
An omniscient narrator introduces each of Fuzzy Bee's friends in turn, alternately ridiculing them ("Keep moving snail, you're really slow") or making spurious claims about their temperament ("This dragonfly is really tame"). The last page contains the soliloquy of a megalomaniac butterfly fishing for validation: "Oh me, Oh my! I wonder why / I'm such a splendid butterfly!"<br />
<br />
<i>Fuzzy Bee</i> is also a text mired in scandal; two characters have been excised from the most recent version without explanation. Rumors that this move was spurred by an affair between Sally Spider and Mr. Fly are still mere allegations at this point, however.<br />
<br />
Then there's<i> Squishy Turtle and Friends</i> which, like a Whit Stillman film, continues the thematic elements of <i>Fuzzy Bee</i> while introducing a new cast of characters. Oddly, the narrator seems to be sadly misinformed about blue whales, suggesting that they could potentially live in a freshwater lake given that it's large enough, and that they eat "little fish with shiny scales." To divert the savvy reader from questioning the veracity of these claims, the narrator threatens you with a crab who "knows / just how to pinch your tiny toes," and then ends the tale with the threatening spectre of a "hungry shark" (see above).<br />
<br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
In truth, blue whales eat only krill / (and "squishy<i>"</i> turtle means roadkill)<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Priddy, Roger. <i>Fuzzy Bee and Friends.</i> New York: St. Martin's (Priddy Books), 2003.</span><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0312507976/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0312507976" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Buy <i>Fuzzy Bee</i> and <i>Squishy Turtle</i> 2-Book Pack</a>Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-66562469465654225242012-04-05T17:39:00.002-04:002012-04-21T11:10:09.084-04:00Lies Your Parents Told You<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinZyAg2uGI0a8B_FrUHuO-ZNgHxN_aPUB69PyCCYGDWfaVE5DIA5pbvAezTveZMgjiX7z3SizU0qYpydRSbZXecolJulP5WaJW1P9HXOazA2c1Fuvta5DL2z1qWycWTxTQ8h7wGgWWixOO/s1600/spaghetti-trees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="119" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinZyAg2uGI0a8B_FrUHuO-ZNgHxN_aPUB69PyCCYGDWfaVE5DIA5pbvAezTveZMgjiX7z3SizU0qYpydRSbZXecolJulP5WaJW1P9HXOazA2c1Fuvta5DL2z1qWycWTxTQ8h7wGgWWixOO/s200/spaghetti-trees.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <span id="goog_350084182"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/">via</a><span id="goog_350084183"></span></td></tr>
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<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">Whenever April Fool's Day rolls around, I think about a particularly gullible relative of mine who believed that spaghetti grew on trees. He had been duped by a 1957 spoof broadcast of a "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=27ugSKW4-QQ">Spaghetti Harvest</a>" and for years believed in the existence of Swiss spaghetti orchards.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">I've always thought April Fool's Day was pretty lame, and now with the advent of social media, it's close to unbearable ("ZOMG Im pregnant!" "Lulz, j/k!"). And then I realized that if you're a parent, you get to perform April Fool's Day-style trickery all year round. A kid is going to learn about the world through his parents ("This is a doggie. We pet the doggie verrry gently." "That is a lion. We back away from the lion verrry slowly."), and so there's a certain trust in place there, and parents have always used this to their advantage. They will tell you that if you make that face again it will freeze that way, or if you swallow a watermelon seed, a vine will grow in your stomach, or that if you suck your thumb again, a <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/09/struwwelpeter.html">tailor will materialize and cut it off</a>.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">The idea behind most of these parent-isms is that the ends justify the means. You don't want your kid making that face, or sucking his thumb, or whatever, and saying "watermelon seeds aren't nutritive and could present a potential choking hazard" is less tangible an idea than the image of growing a watermelon vine in one's gut. Of course, the tricky part is when the kid stops believing you-- he tried it, and his face <i>won't</i> freeze after all-- or, conversely, when he <i>won't</i> stop believing <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(with apologies to Journey)</span>, and therefore refuses to eat noodles for fear of growing an internal spaghetti forest.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">Parents also tell kids lies just because it's fun for them sometimes, with the same motivation, I imagine, that compels your older relatives and clueless coworkers to send you email forwards with animated gifs that tell lame, dubiously inspiring stories and then promise at the end that if you don't forward it to fifty other people you'll die, possibly from a watermelon seed. </span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">Some of the lies even seem beneficial-- the Tooth Fairy, for example, is a useful tool to help kids get over the fear that's a natural result when <i>parts of your body suddenly start falling off, leaving gaping, bloody holes in your face. </i>The idea that a mythical being will visit you and leave you money when this happens seems like a pretty fair trade, then (accounting for inflation, of course-- if the Tooth Fairy leaves you a quarter but gave that girl in your math class a ten-spot, that's pretty cold comfort).</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">As I began reading parenting manuals, I wondered what they might have to say about the acceptability of parental white lies. So far, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and his ilk haven't made an appearance, but I did come across a particularly unexpected bit of advice in that venerated staple <i>What to Expect the First Year</i>. In describing how to help your child "reach his or her maximum potential," it suggests: "[try] talking about people you see ('That lady is very old,' 'That man has to ride around in a chair because he has a boo-boo on his leg,' 'Those children are going to school')" (384).</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">So... I'm supposed to foster his genius by teaching him to talk about the handicapped and the elderly like they're not there?</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">Or maybe the lesson is to construct plausible fictions aloud about everyone you see around you, like you're taking an oral exam for a freshman creative writing class. ("That girl's pants are too tight because she eats her feelings," "That man is driving that car because he's insecure about his masculinity," "That woman is using coupons <i>and</i> paying with a personal check because she doesn't realize that <i>some of us have places to be</i> right now.")</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">While not exactly a lie, the statement that a stranger you see who uses a wheelchair </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">"has to ride around in a chair because he has a boo-boo on his leg" is obtuse at best. This strikes me as one of the more pernicious and ignorant "tales for children" that I've come across yet.</span></span></h6>
<br />
<b>Lesson learned:<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">...And stop cracking your knuckles; it will give you arthritis!</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">Murkoff, Heidi, </span>Arlene Eisenberg, and Sandee E. Hathaway. <i>What to Expect the First Year.</i> New York: Workman, 2009.</span>Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-87559786989245361772012-03-13T20:19:00.003-04:002012-07-07T18:02:42.154-04:00"The Brave Little Toaster"<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE0SZAMIfRWkf5MRBtCWRl6IdA60ASsG_R4wfLVc-aOfNgepXWLRuEIo-3u6reD39lAx8p_a-2uVgMsqXKyPRXTu-FNgeU3p6ID6lWqAs7ko0f6qrloXzJD_OrcdB4ANxnzDl-w9a-4iHM/s1600/Toaster2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE0SZAMIfRWkf5MRBtCWRl6IdA60ASsG_R4wfLVc-aOfNgepXWLRuEIo-3u6reD39lAx8p_a-2uVgMsqXKyPRXTu-FNgeU3p6ID6lWqAs7ko0f6qrloXzJD_OrcdB4ANxnzDl-w9a-4iHM/s200/Toaster2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://disney.wikia.com/wiki/Evil_Clown">via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Fear: An Imaginary Portrait of the Creative Team Behind </b><i><b>The Brave Little Toaster</b></i></div>
<i><br />
</i>Visionary #1: You know what I've always wanted to do? Make a film that really forces an encounter with the shadow archetype in a Jungian sense--something that so terrifying that it could provoke an increased fear response, perhaps even triggering a phobia, outside the normative ontogenetic parade.<br />
<br />
Visionary #2: Oh, sure. So, a Disney children's film, then?<br />
<br />
V1: Of course. But kids are so jaded these days--what's left that would scare them?<br />
<br />
V2: How about a horribly deformed <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2012/02/island-of-misfit-toys.html">toy</a>? <br />
<br />
V1: That's a good start. For maximum horror impact, I'm thinking a creepy doll-- no, just its head! And it has a missing eye! And <a href="http://pixar.wikia.com/Babyface">the body of a mechanical spider</a>! And it's <i>alive</i>!<br />
<br />
V2: We could call it "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NAKyokwktsI">Spider Baby</a>!"<br />
<br />
V1: Ah, no, that's no good; toys come to life has been done <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/christmas-toy.html">before</a>. We need something even more uncanny. How about <i>household appliances</i> come to life?<br />
<br />
V2: The marketing team won't like that. What kind of character would they use to promote the movie, a <a href="http://disney.wikia.com/wiki/Lampy">desk lamp</a>?<br />
<br />
V1: It's so crazy, it just <a href="http://jayjayne.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/pixar_by_joneastwood.jpg">might work</a>! Plus, can you imagine the retail opportunities? Kids begging their parents to buy them vacuum cleaners, refusing to go to sleep unless they can cuddle their clock radios, playing in the bath with their toasters...<br />
<br />
V2: Well, maybe not that last one. So what else are kids afraid of? Lightning?<br />
<br />
V1: Done! Let's fry a protagonist with it.<br />
<br />
V2: How about fear of death?<br />
<br />
V1: Yes! I'll add in some near-misses with drowning, quicksand, vivisection, and then for the grand finale... a car crusher!<br />
<br />
V2: Gosh, that's a little drastic, isn't it?<br />
<br />
V1: Not at all! Here, I'll have a car go into the crusher on <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FqT2uOa1-d0">purpose</a>, just to show it's no biggie. Automotive suicide! Now there's a phobia I bet they haven't included in the DSM yet. It's still lacking something though, something universally terrifying, something so sinister their sheets won't be dry for weeks...<br />
<br />
V2: Um... an evil clown?<br />
<br />
V1: Perfect! <br />
<br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
"<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aK0XFLPuCoY&feature=related">Run</a>."<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The Brave Little Toaster</i>. Dir. Jerry Rees. Perf. Deanna Oliver, Jon Lovitz, Tim Stack. Hyperion, 1987.</span><br />
<b><i> </i> </b><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00009YXAW/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00009YXAW" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Buy <i>The Brave Little Toaster</i> DVD</a><br />
<a href="http://run./"><i></i></a>Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-86969597118406507902012-03-12T13:43:00.002-04:002012-07-07T17:52:21.700-04:00Tinny tune adventures<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGrzHvsS7TSmKwelvTKlb8ta53EG6pqKCcYNlrtGIpQ8KosHtAMjtzYC2p3yOK9HliZB3ESwDT6hE_j0nFrRTuOslYI3PJKOGGQme1I6dAYsXYYbuaCWIaCIIAzIoWcnR3EWK6KALsxgox/s1600/baby-listening-to-music-on-headphones-o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGrzHvsS7TSmKwelvTKlb8ta53EG6pqKCcYNlrtGIpQ8KosHtAMjtzYC2p3yOK9HliZB3ESwDT6hE_j0nFrRTuOslYI3PJKOGGQme1I6dAYsXYYbuaCWIaCIIAzIoWcnR3EWK6KALsxgox/s200/baby-listening-to-music-on-headphones-o.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://businessplayground.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/baby-listening-to-music-on-headphones-o.jpg">via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
One of the things I've discovered as a parent is that kids' stuff tends to play music--and I use that term loosely. Whether it's a <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2012/02/island-of-misfit-toys.html">mutant stuffed animal</a> or an infant swing, you can bet that if you turn a knob, squeeze it, jiggle its foot, or whatever, it's going to have the capacity to play a tinny MIDI tune of "If You're Happy and You Know It" or "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" ad infinitum, and you're soon going to start hearing these ditties on a loop in your sleep, maybe even accompanied by dreams that you're driving an ice cream truck... to Hell. <br />
<br />
I feel like the makers of these toys are perhaps conducting some kind of covert psychological testing on new parents--something like the Stanford Prison Experiment, where the prisoner-parents cease to remember who they are or why they're there, knowing only that they are hearing "It's a Small World After All" for the five hundredth time and <i>maybe even starting to think they like it</i>. It seems the folks over at Sterling Cooper Fisher Price have become masters of the earworm, selecting only songs more insidiously catchy than "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y1XfGTO2vh8&feature=related">Chili's Baby Back Ribs</a>" and more inane than "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GHS8hj4TdT8">MacArthur Park</a>." And while I've already explored the beautiful dark twisted fantasy that is "<a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/rock-bye-baby.html">Rock-a-Bye Baby</a>," I'd be remiss not to mention a few other favorite toddler tunes that have some pretty messed-up messages.<br />
<br />
"Alouette"--All about plucking the feathers off a poor lark (<a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/07/follow-that-bird.html">Big Bird?</a>), body part by body part. Second only to "<a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/03/baby-bumblebee.html">Baby Bumblebee</a>" as the theme song of animal torture aficionados and future serial killers.<br />
<br />
"Oh My Darling Clementine"--A miner's girlfriend tragically drowns so he consoles himself by getting busy with her little sister instead. With its incestuous overtones, a favorite folksong in West Virginia.<br />
<br />
"Hush, Little Baby"--Don't say a word. Because I'm going to buy you a series of inappropriate and ill-thought-out gifts, and when they all inevitably break, or die, I'll throw more money at the problem in hopes that you'll love me. The ballad of the absentee father?<br />
<br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
Cheer up! At least there are "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Rock_Candy_Mountain">cigarette trees</a>" to look forward to in "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tYGCpGzFWh0">The Big Rock Candy Mountain</a><span id="goog_944768195"></span><span id="goog_944768196"></span>," so it's not all bad. <span style="font-size: x-small;"> (Well, until you're "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Rock_Candy_Mountain">buggered sore</a>," that is...)</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000NVL9ME/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B000NVL9ME" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Buy 100 Singalong Songs for Kids CD</a>Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-6843648218028620542012-02-24T12:53:00.004-05:002012-07-07T18:02:52.652-04:00"Little Boy Blue"<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu6O15D-19kh1e6N3xIs2Zd10ZE4W_iL7IGcOJVLPsbg56hEIOAgfqVSqZPoyWXLHkpcfLkdf4pRWwwinGQjWltNci6v5AgMOwwWEyny9lzc5zVtyDdrMf5VOssor_OrQ4vEdL5CxrKNLg/s1600/300px-Thomas_Gainsborough_008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu6O15D-19kh1e6N3xIs2Zd10ZE4W_iL7IGcOJVLPsbg56hEIOAgfqVSqZPoyWXLHkpcfLkdf4pRWwwinGQjWltNci6v5AgMOwwWEyny9lzc5zVtyDdrMf5VOssor_OrQ4vEdL5CxrKNLg/s200/300px-Thomas_Gainsborough_008.jpg" width="132" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f3/Thomas_Gainsborough_008.jpg/300px-Thomas_Gainsborough_008.jpg">via</a></td></tr>
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Some childhood trauma seems to be nearly universal if you came of age at a certain time--what child of the Eighties didn't have nightmares about <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/return-to-oz.html">wheelies</a>?--but other sources of fear are unique to the individual. I'm not sure anyone else on the planet shared my horror at the Study in the board game "<a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/06/eclectic-list-of-things-that-gave-me.html">Clue</a>," for example. But I have been surprised at how many people remember--and not with fondness--the <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/search/label/Uncle%20Arthur">Uncle Arthur</a> stories.<br />
<br />
I haven't ever encountered anyone else who had this particular experience, but for some reason, the "Little Boy Blue" poem I knew growing up didn't have anything to do with blowing horns or cows in the corn. I remember asking other children at school if they knew "the real version" and being stared at as if I had lobsters crawling out of my ears. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Boy_Blue_%28poem%29">The version I knew</a>--by Eugene Field--was a bit more bleak than the well-known nursery rhyme. It begins:<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
The little toy dog is covered with dust,<br />
But sturdy and stanch he stands;<br />
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,<br />
And his musket moulds in his hands.<br />
Time was when the little toy dog was new,<br />
And the soldier was passing fair;<br />
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue<br />
Kissed them and put them there.</div>
<br />
The poem confirmed my belief in <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/velveteen-rabbit.html">the emotional lives of toys</a>, and upped the stakes a bit, because not only could <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/christmas-toy.html"><i>they</i> die</a>, but <i>you</i> could die as well! The phrasing too of the child's death-- "And, as he was dreaming, an angel song / Awakened our Little Boy Blue," was eerily similar to the conclusion of "<a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/uncle-arthurs-bedtime-stories-jesus.html">Jesus Understood</a>," and suggested the possibility that not only could Jesus kidnap and murder you, but there were angelic henchpersons who could do the deed as well. I imagined them toting around harp-cases with guns in them, like heavenly old-time gangsters.<br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
Always make provisions for your stuffed animals in your will.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Field, Eugene. "Little Boy Blue." 1888.</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0071419306/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0071419306" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Buy <i>101 Famous Poems</i></a>Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-34965899443885334462012-02-04T09:54:00.008-05:002012-07-07T17:58:57.013-04:00The Island of Misfit Toys<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Now that I'm a parent, I often wonder what future blog fodder I might be exposing my child to. Of course, I'm not going to be reading any <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/search/label/Uncle%20Arthur">Uncle Arthur</a> stories at bedtime, and I won't be popping <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/return-to-oz.html"><i>Return to Oz</i></a> in the DVD player expecting Bert Lahr's jowls to be the scariest aspect of it, but it seems as though a certain amount of childhood trauma is inevitable. This truth has recently been driven home for me since I've started having nightmares about alien giraffes. Let me explain why. First, a quick review--<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
This is what a giraffe looks like:</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI0RIrtH7dSoFWWPc4VHIF7Q84znVzpND4ev2A-xPcDJAzecumQhDTGRKW5HxNta8eMsCPwM37ee9NoZWWmyB-RFmq6xGBUULSd-rOH69SpfWIcmYEBpq41GBA5-U6ca_J23ariQGdxspS/s1600/Giraffe-closeup-head.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI0RIrtH7dSoFWWPc4VHIF7Q84znVzpND4ev2A-xPcDJAzecumQhDTGRKW5HxNta8eMsCPwM37ee9NoZWWmyB-RFmq6xGBUULSd-rOH69SpfWIcmYEBpq41GBA5-U6ca_J23ariQGdxspS/s200/Giraffe-closeup-head.jpg" width="118" /> </a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the horns. (image <a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/ef/Giraffe-closeup-head.jpg">via</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
However, this is what a giraffe looks like on children's goods:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjswJhhCeT9ORw258_4KDYo01fjAemE4mce6VrA3D3QvbBKYE-0WBePh7E_NgkEYDKiqAxfAAg0IrIMNSah9yHqsu1JeqbtLM7STKrmnGJ7SumDkl6vdhHhB30f-o8VcZ9BLyxlAZhkK3Ut/s1600/P2030039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjswJhhCeT9ORw258_4KDYo01fjAemE4mce6VrA3D3QvbBKYE-0WBePh7E_NgkEYDKiqAxfAAg0IrIMNSah9yHqsu1JeqbtLM7STKrmnGJ7SumDkl6vdhHhB30f-o8VcZ9BLyxlAZhkK3Ut/s200/P2030039.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>G:</b></span> Giraffes have spots.<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>A:</b></span> And, apparently, antennae.</td></tr>
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<br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Here are a few other examples of the Alien Giraffe phenomenon:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7mToXBc0vQ6K_nAqFrcB-Y7_4NNmBtiM6Lbi8uCaANhaqyMJr859jKvwUiuZvokaqRHay1OcalJ94SSdsEQbd2Mqzr6scU9nug2J2NW4_vdMtMjXRyVOWu158RUNZ3F1Qevin6L26DT7/s1600/P2030037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXxp_YcHubM0WfO321kwcsyX8iOxHzoAVQL2ZSvLFUHYmKiHeZo5mTrEcXXxvL7xnQx5Xt5QP5oORgErfqc1JPvRY_AXLshjoSwRwwbdOcw-ZciYlJk59ebWo3UAcA3JPhJ7cYKZMqK1I/s1600/P2030030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXxp_YcHubM0WfO321kwcsyX8iOxHzoAVQL2ZSvLFUHYmKiHeZo5mTrEcXXxvL7xnQx5Xt5QP5oORgErfqc1JPvRY_AXLshjoSwRwwbdOcw-ZciYlJk59ebWo3UAcA3JPhJ7cYKZMqK1I/s200/P2030030.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlYEUT4PvvzEx_jcKRWY1LTuMcKyOi_5ceCWFakQc6ZTt1xYHzCT9uhRhvfMHa1rpnBZdBp8jCQH3eaPxaHZrZujPBRP-7-pCBWXW6EqBxn_1ca93GZTGB-3x0V78mQ2uWlo73K0SJLvF1/s1600/P2030037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlYEUT4PvvzEx_jcKRWY1LTuMcKyOi_5ceCWFakQc6ZTt1xYHzCT9uhRhvfMHa1rpnBZdBp8jCQH3eaPxaHZrZujPBRP-7-pCBWXW6EqBxn_1ca93GZTGB-3x0V78mQ2uWlo73K0SJLvF1/s200/P2030037.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu-pHb8Oe_pGBhJCSDze_LcgqlVg0cineIxIffyskA_pjmRyWa5fKJnNXnVwMlBD8Xxuq3l_4wEgS2T0LdjxAaLjueP5IZ1LZCoH8ftYdSZEf1sJn2WSgNul8OICv5Fe92HbJTIrYL5onq/s1600/P2030027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu-pHb8Oe_pGBhJCSDze_LcgqlVg0cineIxIffyskA_pjmRyWa5fKJnNXnVwMlBD8Xxuq3l_4wEgS2T0LdjxAaLjueP5IZ1LZCoH8ftYdSZEf1sJn2WSgNul8OICv5Fe92HbJTIrYL5onq/s200/P2030027.JPG" width="160" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYnBegijIvQCgkIfVwUFttTCsZnRsnGlZ1AsME2ZTsQZAO-lftgZFz2YqDEzfC_RolL_c1F6OIEo4fELWDb8ApaXl27207Ez-hZ3YrXlD_j6i0sff5Q20kjElpPGGd4eQc0XZtbErpxAVu/s1600/P2030033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYnBegijIvQCgkIfVwUFttTCsZnRsnGlZ1AsME2ZTsQZAO-lftgZFz2YqDEzfC_RolL_c1F6OIEo4fELWDb8ApaXl27207Ez-hZ3YrXlD_j6i0sff5Q20kjElpPGGd4eQc0XZtbErpxAVu/s200/P2030033.JPG" width="150" /> </a><br />
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And the weirdest one of all... the giraffe who was in a horrible spill at a chemical factory, and as the ooze pooled around his mangled feet, was transformed into this monstrosity: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4E6ckPW_lkPV6yYbnarMdlbO-R60fVzZsxq1HKj4O2xU363vDuPK3-5ADLrjF2RkrD_I5scGeUinjzcVH6_sgoNpSpsIJh04i1lY2rHBZ-AHeL_SnZf_CCv0ENYqyeAgNgKDxVZ2trFy-/s1600/P1150105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4E6ckPW_lkPV6yYbnarMdlbO-R60fVzZsxq1HKj4O2xU363vDuPK3-5ADLrjF2RkrD_I5scGeUinjzcVH6_sgoNpSpsIJh04i1lY2rHBZ-AHeL_SnZf_CCv0ENYqyeAgNgKDxVZ2trFy-/s200/P1150105.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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Once you start noticing it, you'll begin to see hideous, smiling <i>Island of Dr. Moreau</i>-type creatures everywhere you look. </div>
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To wit:</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0XuCV_Zj8enKV0vzDjX9M1RLuS8YMzricdJHNiG_v9DlLMhgSl5QThvPVABiXJqX3_rFzVv1Ni9yZV_3Xy-H0mqDeLlleqxi96y_BDPHemfSCoIt_PNQ54OQDOT5skqTIBaTuXsCaU89/s1600/P2030032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0XuCV_Zj8enKV0vzDjX9M1RLuS8YMzricdJHNiG_v9DlLMhgSl5QThvPVABiXJqX3_rFzVv1Ni9yZV_3Xy-H0mqDeLlleqxi96y_BDPHemfSCoIt_PNQ54OQDOT5skqTIBaTuXsCaU89/s200/P2030032.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Front legs attached backwards, or the knuckle-walking monkey (</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">not ape, note the tail) that evolution forgot?</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDOUwKKqjnc5NZU9jNft1WPqaqSmkDLTBk6rGachrqg5r4zhkj0q6Dnc-622gl-Bnq0M3E6R7og4JFtfPfilS_8FrGqZhR2ij8xQ1wS5wGMHPJt1nvw8PjYC0KcGUTuRpOspUziJZeSnI/s1600/P2030028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDOUwKKqjnc5NZU9jNft1WPqaqSmkDLTBk6rGachrqg5r4zhkj0q6Dnc-622gl-Bnq0M3E6R7og4JFtfPfilS_8FrGqZhR2ij8xQ1wS5wGMHPJt1nvw8PjYC0KcGUTuRpOspUziJZeSnI/s200/P2030028.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A zebra with a dog's nose, or the white tiger that <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siegfried_%26_Roy">ate Roy</a>--with a mohawk?</td></tr>
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Then there are children's clothes. Sometimes they have very helpful instructions embroidered on them:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisM9oFiAShIa2oHyp7RsAsA6eCnm-u-ocv9ZlVNaDwOVAglNDFMnN0Z8BRBHp1t-aIcKoecN17R4Iua3tTbZ-dQlvC_teOW5QOEEIu1cL2TWAhjiF-Hy-ad28dD3FX04asB7xhQ2GRQ-Oi/s1600/P2040038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisM9oFiAShIa2oHyp7RsAsA6eCnm-u-ocv9ZlVNaDwOVAglNDFMnN0Z8BRBHp1t-aIcKoecN17R4Iua3tTbZ-dQlvC_teOW5QOEEIu1cL2TWAhjiF-Hy-ad28dD3FX04asB7xhQ2GRQ-Oi/s200/P2040038.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(A useful reminder about reducing the risk of SIDS)</td></tr>
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And sometimes, they offer really terrible advice:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZhXpBGtHadruZ0YfNpnxgAM_W5AkPY138dm0EqsWBFk9loQGp1_MBGAgVdL5Ty2roG7uyRFdxSQltC5FaanfhDU0Usy8DjBP_G9u_jlll2SHDhRnPhO3GpsZ2ZhMRjym8o-ulc5U2JFe/s200/P2040036.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What's next? A romper with rattles that says "Shake me," a onesie with soccer balls that says "Kick me," or a footie pajama set with frolicking lambs that says "Marinate me, roast me until tender, then serve me with mint chutney"?</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<b>Lesson learned:</b></div>
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At least if you catch the mutant giraffe toy moving, you can <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/christmas-toy.html">kill it</a>.<br />
<br />
<b></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B003LQMZS0/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B003LQMZS0" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Buy your own Mutant Giraffe.</a></div>
</div>Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-79906737059948964912012-01-30T10:07:00.006-05:002012-07-07T17:59:23.182-04:00"Little House on the Prairie"<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmf7EWdrQJ9bKuMxPOSzF2xxWNWkmsqWe2-c1spLY2n1Uqyn9RIIp3vgnr1cPTpZoW1ZnAlvVUqaeqZRMrNm236v0QxK8UURkPpWGvcfEP05iuN3Lgp_lutphWSQsfINjiE9aQvEO3a0k/s1600/tumblr_ln461zyh4M1qbjni1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmf7EWdrQJ9bKuMxPOSzF2xxWNWkmsqWe2-c1spLY2n1Uqyn9RIIp3vgnr1cPTpZoW1ZnAlvVUqaeqZRMrNm236v0QxK8UURkPpWGvcfEP05iuN3Lgp_lutphWSQsfINjiE9aQvEO3a0k/s200/tumblr_ln461zyh4M1qbjni1.png" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ln461zyh4M1qbjni1.png">via</a></td></tr>
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My television-viewing options were quite limited as a kid. "The Simpsons" was unknown to me until college, and even "The Wonder Years" was off-limits due to its treatment of burgeoning young adult sexuality. I was, however, allowed to watch ABC's catchphrase-laden "TGIF" lineup (and "Did I do that?" Why of course, "don't be ridiculous!"... <span style="font-size: x-small;">OK, now I'll "cut! it! out!"...</span>), which I'm sure rendered me a joy to be around. <br />
<br />
I was also allowed to watch "Little House on the Prairie," which played in syndication on a seemingly endless loop on TBS. It looked like wholesome family fare, what with the smiling Laura in her gingham frock playing airplane in the meadow (anachronism? hmm...) and leaping joyfully in the air at the end of every episode. Sure, there was conflict--often driven by Nellie "Bad Seed" Oleson and her busybody mother--but there wasn't any swearing, and even if there ever was, Pa would probably fiddle right over it and make it all better again.<br />
<br />
But there was also a darker side to the "Little House." And it made me afraid of two things: nosebleeds, and cornmeal.<br />
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Nosebleeds? Well, that's what killed off Albert. It meant he had leukemia (!!!) and was going to die. Imagine my terror after every pinkish-looking sneeze thereafter.<br />
<br />
As for the cornmeal, there was an episode called "Plague" where rats have infested the town's cornmeal supply, which gives everyone typhus. I have been suspicious of cornbread ever since. Yes, it might make a delicious accompaniment to chili, but is it really worth <i>dying</i> for?<br />
<br />
There were other traumatizing episodes too--I mean, life on the prairie was hard, and as <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/02/oregon-trail.html">The Oregon Trail</a> will teach you, death is pretty much inevitable--not to mention "Sylvia," which involved <i>a masked child rapist</i> who kills Albert's first love (not horrific enough for one episode, they extended it out for two!), but that's a tale for another time. Play us off, Pa!<br />
<br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea that they blew up the entire town. <br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">"Little House on the Prairie." Worldvision/NBC 1974-83. Perf. Michael Landon, Melissa Gilbert, Karen Grassle.</span><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B005F96UP0/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B005F96UP0" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Buy Little House on the Prairie: The Complete Nine-Season DVD Set</a><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-59788632650436395342012-01-21T16:24:00.007-05:002012-07-07T17:59:41.949-04:00Goodnight gosling<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguuxeYheNh76u2WyiDi3klOiE1Q1qEBRESBXG-9lc58fG3pQ4CqomJWZ93_jJxStNJnP4kL9PyxYpJ_zKH2P9OOgueh4sJbHTkkjDBWZ8HkUM3bqz1i4c8mo2BrevNoLRoEwWVhjwrkYPY/s1600/Ugly+Duckling+1939+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguuxeYheNh76u2WyiDi3klOiE1Q1qEBRESBXG-9lc58fG3pQ4CqomJWZ93_jJxStNJnP4kL9PyxYpJ_zKH2P9OOgueh4sJbHTkkjDBWZ8HkUM3bqz1i4c8mo2BrevNoLRoEwWVhjwrkYPY/s200/Ugly+Duckling+1939+1.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://www.disneyfilmproject.com/2010/04/ugly-duckling-1939.html">via</a></td></tr>
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My apologies for the lack of updates! I--well--I hatched a gosling, so to speak. So I have been reading--and rereading, and rerereading--a lot of board books lately, and have discovered that even with a monosyllabic vocabulary and an average of five words per page, there's often the suggestion of something sinister.<br />
<br />
For instance, in <i>Goodnight Moon</i> there is that old lady who demands, in a whisper, that we must "hush." Given the sparse furnishings of the rodent-infested room, I find this suggestive of what is perhaps a hostage situation. "Goodnight nobody" and "goodnight noises everywhere"? Maybe in the little house with the red balloon, nobody can hear you scream. <br />
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<b>Lesson learned</b><br />
You don't want to know what's in the mush.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Brown, Margaret Wise. <i> Goodnight Moon.</i> HarperCollins, 1947.</span><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0060775858/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0060775858" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Buy <i>Goodnight Moon</i></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-62561590393331094832011-09-21T12:59:00.008-04:002012-07-09T12:04:04.932-04:00"The Witches"<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoq8AMtgKhsYxCWNoxk5-MgufDc__XzNJbgdgQ8lbTVTJ5LQ3kc45akGCJQasvhyphenhyphenP92DRAk5QozOJOv3ejDPAWiERwBjIneq4_Hi6r2E1OEgdvIkMsoea-f0ldJPX0bsBjh9yBBEeC6ztK/s1600/9780141322643_Witches_IMG_0081.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="108" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoq8AMtgKhsYxCWNoxk5-MgufDc__XzNJbgdgQ8lbTVTJ5LQ3kc45akGCJQasvhyphenhyphenP92DRAk5QozOJOv3ejDPAWiERwBjIneq4_Hi6r2E1OEgdvIkMsoea-f0ldJPX0bsBjh9yBBEeC6ztK/s200/9780141322643_Witches_IMG_0081.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://www.epubbud.com/read.php?g=ZBZA4RSW&p=22">via</a></td></tr>
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Writing about <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/09/struwwelpeter.html"><i>The BFG</i></a> the other day, I was shocked to realize that I hadn't yet taken a look at Roald Dahl's work. Surely no other author tapped so well into a child's complex psyche-- he gave us the terrifying thrills we craved, the naughty humor we guiltily loved, and he never talked down to us.<br />
<br />
After I'd devoured all of Dahl's books in the "Juvenile" section of the library, I remember eagerly moving on to his other titles-- the ones way over in the "Adult" section. They didn't have Quentin Blake's illustrations, but they did have a man who had his skin flayed for his tattoo, a woman bludgeoning her husband to death with a leg of lamb, and a compulsive gambler who chops off people's fingers. Such wonderful, twisted stuff! I imagined that all those "adult bookstores" I saw signs for downtown must have shelves full of similar stories.<br />
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For some reason, just the label "Adult" had prepared me to expect the morbid twists and turns in those books, but the same Hitchcokian plot devices absolutely shocked me in Dahl's fare intended for children. The one that most stuck with me was from the end of <i>The Witches. </i>The hero, a little boy, gets turned into a mouse <i>and doesn't ever get turned back</i>! Then Dahl goes for another turn of the screw--the boy asks his grandmother how long a mouse can expect to live.<br />
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1006321038"></a>‘A mouse-person will almost certainly live for three times as long as an ordinary mouse,’ my grandmother said. ‘About nine years.’</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1006321041"></a> ‘Good!’ I cried. ‘That's great! It's the best news I've ever had!’</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1006321041"></a>‘Why do you say that?’ she asked, surprised.</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1006321041"></a>‘Because I would never want to live longer than you,’ I said. ‘I couldn't stand being looked after by anybody else.’</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1006321041"></a>There was a short silence. She had a way of fondling me behind the ears with the tip of one finger. It felt lovely.</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1006321041"></a>‘How old are <i>you</i>, Grandmamma?’ I asked.</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1006321041"></a>‘I'm eighty-six,’ she said.</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1006321041"></a>‘Will you live another eight or nine years?’</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1006321041"></a>‘I might,’ she said. ‘With a bit of luck.’</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1006321038"></a>‘You've got to,’ I said. ‘Because by then I'll be a very old mouse and you'll be a very old grandmother and soon after that we'll both die together.’</div>
<br />
Yes, this is "the best news [he's] ever had!"--the fact that he will only live another eight or nine years, that he will remain a mouse, and that he will die in tandem with his aged grandmother. Way to dream big, kid.<br />
<br />
Now, I realize that if this plot were to be found on the shelves of an "adult bookstore," it would only appeal to a very, very, very specialized kind of audience-- folks more twisted than even Dahl's tales.<br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
Did you know that the heart of a mouse beats at the rate of five hundred times a minute?<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Dahl, Roald. <i>The Witches</i>. London: Jonathan Cape, 1983.</span><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/014241011X/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=014241011X" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Buy <i>The Witches</i></a>Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-24899040101641267022011-09-14T21:26:00.006-04:002012-03-04T17:03:09.933-05:00Doggone it.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfgHbXUoV_WZ_BOWXf27AqLCdw4WcUWe47C8-ugBF9F2foCAvhAIbIGY4gem8E5BXG09TX44xzAn-Onk5X1s0md9t9nrW0RtpJ5sFONol3qAX0U1qP43NMsbV4qJqiw4hCPl5T1Sbmm9NC/s1600/natty-gann-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfgHbXUoV_WZ_BOWXf27AqLCdw4WcUWe47C8-ugBF9F2foCAvhAIbIGY4gem8E5BXG09TX44xzAn-Onk5X1s0md9t9nrW0RtpJ5sFONol3qAX0U1qP43NMsbV4qJqiw4hCPl5T1Sbmm9NC/s200/natty-gann-4.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://shibasenji.wordpress.com/2010/12/31/list-my-top-dog-movies/">via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>I grew up convinced that I was totally deprived because I didn't have a dog.<br />
<br />
At one point, I even came up with a half-baked plan to play with a lit firecracker so I could get blinded <i>just enough</i> to merit a super-smart seeing-eye dog like in <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Follow-My-Leader-James-Garfield/dp/0140364854?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Follow My Leader</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0140364854" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /></i>. (Eventually, I realized that I might also miss <i>seeing</i>, so I tabled that plan until I could think of something less permanently disfiguring.)<br />
<br />
In fairness, I should mention that my family actually <i>did </i>have a dog. But Choo-choo was sixteen years old, blind with cataracts, and pretty much just liked to sleep. Sure, she was gentle, tolerant, obedient--but what did that matter when she was <i>old</i> and couldn't do any cool tricks?<br />
<br />
She weighed about twelve pounds, so I couldn't ride her like Belle from "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Belle-Sebastian-Completa-Episodios-latin/dp/B002TOFC3A?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Belle and Sebastian</a>," or Falcor from <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/neverending-story.html"><i>The Neverending Story</i></a>.<br />
<br />
She couldn't talk, like <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Poochie-VHS-Luno/dp/6300157636?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Poochie</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=6300157636" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />, or Cooler from "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pound-Puppies-Legend-Big-Paw/dp/B000HC2LEO?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Pound Puppies</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B000HC2LEO" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />."<br />
<br />
She wasn't a scrappy ragamuffin from the streets, like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Here%27s_Boomer">Boomer</a>, or <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/05/benji-hunted.html">Benji</a>, or Sandy from <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Annie-Special-Anniversary-Albert-Finney/dp/B0000VCZKM?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Annie</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B0000VCZKM" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /></i>.<br />
<br />
She lacked heroism. She was never going to save me from imminent danger, like <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Chips-War-Dog-Brandon-Douglas/dp/6302961556?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Chips the War Dog</a></i><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=6302961556" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /> or the wolf-dog from <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Journey-Natty-Gann-Meredith-Salenger/dp/B000065V3A?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">The Journey of Natty Gann</a></i><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B000065V3A" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />.<br />
<br />
She also was not an alien. There went my "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fluppy-Dogs-Happiest-Read-Along-Cassette/dp/B000J2G38C?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Fluppy Dogs</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B000J2G38C" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />" theory.<br />
<br />
After reading <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/julie-of-wolves.html"><i>Julie of the Wolves</i></a> like a how-to guide then coming home to watch "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lassie-50th-Anniversary-TV-Collection/dp/B0002VEYV8?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Lassie</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B0002VEYV8" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />" reruns on Nickelodeon in the afternoon, I was pretty convinced I would be an awesome dog trainer. "Lie down, Choo-choo!" I would say. (She would remain prostrate on the couch.) "Good dog. Now beg!" (She would open one cloudy eye, if I was lucky.) "Okay then, drool, Choo-choo, drool!" (This she would do with utter abandon.) "Good girl."<br />
<br />
Why did the '80s have so much dog-centric programming? Was it to ensure against a new generation of Cat People? Was it to make the allergic kids feel even more unloved? Or was it just to put us off guard, so that when we were all subjected to <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/SOUNDER-Armstrong-William-paperback-Sounder/dp/B0044S6XAA?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Sounder</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B0044S6XAA" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /></i><i>,</i> and <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Shiloh-Phyllis-Reynolds-Naylor/dp/0689835825?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Shiloh</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0689835825" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />,</i> and <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/where-red-fern-grows.html"><i>Where the Red Fern Grows</i></a> in middle school, we would all feel appropriately devastated?<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
Of course, when your dog goes all <i></i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000AJJNIG/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B000AJJNIG" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank"><i>Old Yeller</i></a> on you and dies, you could always revive him, per <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B003V5K0AQ/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B003V5K0AQ" id="static_txt_preview" target="_blank">Frankenweenie</a>.</i>Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-50246135609808458582011-09-10T14:17:00.002-04:002011-09-10T14:28:34.494-04:00"Struwwelpeter"<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw4_MhctKYAZZsREmkGYMeC3VGPPsKqE4iee6Y83ScziRVmOeD4RVQ9fPDu-XPn1HLb0EIPqRJoW-T0UFqskIBU4XUFdMSTiuHq74NDfwRJBSUAyQgwnDF059PCAQBMkcywvM9dP00xpnt/s1600/018-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw4_MhctKYAZZsREmkGYMeC3VGPPsKqE4iee6Y83ScziRVmOeD4RVQ9fPDu-XPn1HLb0EIPqRJoW-T0UFqskIBU4XUFdMSTiuHq74NDfwRJBSUAyQgwnDF059PCAQBMkcywvM9dP00xpnt/s200/018-1.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/12116/12116-h/12116-h.htm#The_Story_of_Little_Suck-a-Thumb">via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>By popular demand, I'm addressing the timeless children's classic <i>Struwwelpeter</i> by Heinrich Hoffman, author of the similarly-themed <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/03/slovenly-betsy.html"><i>Slovenly Betsy</i></a>. I somehow was lucky enough to miss out on being subjected to these tales as a child, but it sounds like if you were, you never forgot them. <br />
<br />
The most infamous story in the collection has to be "Die Geschichte vom Daumenlutscher," or, in English, "The Story of Little Suck-a-Thumb." The story is presumably intended to dissuade children from sucking their thumbs.<br />
<br />
There is a way to humorously cure children of nasty habits, but I don't think Hoffmann's story is it. I remember whooping with laughter as a kid at Shel Silverstein's poem "Warning," which reads:<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Inside everybody's nose</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> There lives a sharp-toothed snail.<br />
So if you stick your finger in,<br />
He may bite off your nail.<br />
Stick it farther up inside,<br />
And he may bite your ring off.<br />
Stick it all the way, and he<br />
May bite the whole darn thing off.</span></div><br />
See? Direct and to the point, but hilariously absurd. Roald Dahl's <i>The BFG</i> teaches a fine lesson about burping in a similar fun fashion-- the BFG advises Sophie that burping is "flithsome," so "us giants is never doing it." As a kid, the BFG seems completely awesome, so if he says burping is taboo, you believe him. (Of course, whizzpopping is another matter entirely, a bodily function to be <i>celebrated</i>, even, so you should feel free to fire a whizzpop at will.)<br />
<br />
But now we must get back to "Little Suck-a-Thumb" to see how Hoffmann's parable plays out. Mother warns Conrad not to suck his thumb while she's gone because:<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"The great tall tailor always comes<br />
To little boys who suck their thumbs;<br />
And ere they dream what he's about,<br />
He takes his great sharp scissors out,<br />
And cuts their thumbs clean off—and then,<br />
You know, they never grow again."</div><br />
Why a tailor should care about thumb-sucking I have no idea. A manicurist I could understand, but a tailor? Perhaps he specializes in constructing thumbless mittens.<br />
<br />
Regardless, Conrad fails to heed his mother's warning and sure enough, the tailor barges into his house, and--"Snip! Snap! Snip!"--he cuts both of poor Conrad's thumbs off. Thus are vanquished Conrad's future plans to effectively hitchhike, become a movie critic, or play Nintendo.<br />
<br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
One must presume the tailor only punishes <i>children</i> with anatomical-oral fixations, since I imagine that with <i>adults</i>, the potential consequences might prove far more dire.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Hoffmann, Heinrich. <i>Struwwelpeter: Merry Tales and Funny Pictures.</i> 1845.</span><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Struwwelpeter-Pretty-Stories-Funny-Pictures/dp/184365153X?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Struwwelpeter: Or Pretty Stories and Funny Pictures</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=184365153X" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-51265974275499471702011-08-23T11:23:00.006-04:002011-08-23T13:48:50.839-04:00YA books: a cure for optimism<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX7U999JPEhyv3PNcn5ogqylKcO2TJ9ZPi4N2jiYnR-MMQKFVA1zOheaysqPizkxQpldQ4NgbM_h5FOrKFx3e8Bi3yVccPma0h_Hvx9P49C4_Zk7068E7MxsUUfhjIjUTOpTlwNDPPoAJD/s1600/goats-brock-cole-paperback-cover-art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX7U999JPEhyv3PNcn5ogqylKcO2TJ9ZPi4N2jiYnR-MMQKFVA1zOheaysqPizkxQpldQ4NgbM_h5FOrKFx3e8Bi3yVccPma0h_Hvx9P49C4_Zk7068E7MxsUUfhjIjUTOpTlwNDPPoAJD/s200/goats-brock-cole-paperback-cover-art.jpg" width="132" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://i43.tower.com/images/mm100045976/goats-brock-cole-paperback-cover-art.jpg">via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Hey kids, do you ever feel happy, laugh at funny jokes, dance like no one's watching? Do you ever take pleasure in uplifting stories that speak to the triumph of the human spirit? Do you, in short, have faith in humanity?<br />
<br />
Let's cure all that for you with your middle school reading list.<br />
<br />
Yes, reading YA fiction is an exercise in masochism, offering a dystopic worldview and a sense of the futile struggle for decency in the face of man's inhumanity to man-- in short, it is much like the experience of middle school itself.<br />
<br />
Here, a brief rundown of some perennially popular YA titles: <br />
<br />
<i>* Island of the Blue Dolphins </i>by Scott O'Dell, 1960.<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Island-Blue-Dolphins-Scott-ODell/dp/0547328613?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Island of the Blue Dolphins</a><br />
When everyone in Karana's tribe is setting sail to leave their island home forever, Karana sees her brother being left behind and jumps ship to stay with him. Shortly thereafter, her brother is killed by wild dogs, and Karana must survive in isolation for many years with only the animals of the island for companions. What's even worse is that the book is based on the true story of Juana Maria, who was rescued after 18 years alone on an island, only to find that no one could understand the language she spoke--and she died a mere 7 weeks later.<br />
<br />
<i>* Watership Down</i> by Richard Adams, 1972.<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Watership-Down-Novel-Richard-Adams/dp/0743277708?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Watership Down: A Novel</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0743277708" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /><br />
War seems somehow even more brutal when the soldiers are all cuddly little bunny rabbits. Humans appear here too, as a kind of faceless, menacing threat of evil--they destroy the rabbits' homes, shoot them, and catch them in snares. This is "The Tale of Peter Rabbit" but with blood and urine and carnage, and where Mr. McGregor isn't the only antagonist to fear; Flopsy might make a shiv out of a carrot and go after Cottontail.<br />
<br />
<i>* Bridge to Terabithia</i> by Katherine Paterson, 1977.<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Bridge-Terabithia-Katherine-Paterson/dp/B001O9CB2G?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Bridge to Terabithia</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B001O9CB2G" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /><br />
This is one of those books that the older kids warn you about before you even know the basic plot-- you know beforehand that it's going to be <i>sad</i>, much like <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/where-red-fern-grows.html"><i>Where the Red Fern Grows</i></a> or the movie <i>My Girl</i>. So, while you might anticipate Leslie's death, what you don't realize is that the book will also ensure you will never use a rope swing again in your entire life. Most elementary school-level books encourage imaginative play, but this book's message is unequivocal: imagination <i>kills</i>. LARPing ruins lives.<i> </i><br />
<br />
<i>* Good Night, Mister Tom</i> by Michelle Magorian, 1981.<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Good-Night-Mr-Michelle-Magorian/dp/006440174X?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Good Night, Mr. Tom</a><br />
Books set during World War II are rarely uplifting, and that goes double for YA books. So how do you make a WWII YA book even more soul-crushing? Why not add in a heartbreakingly self-loathing, bed-wetting child who is horribly abused by his own mother? I remember not being able to sleep all night after reading one scene where the boy is locked in a closet for days holding a dead baby. How can one face 7th grade gym class after something like that?<br />
<br />
<i>* The Goats</i> by Brock Cole, 1987.<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Goats-Brock-Cole/dp/0312611919?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">The Goats</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0312611919" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /><br />
I remember the description of the story on the back jacket of this book began with the words: "Stripped and marooned on a small island by their fellow campers, a boy and a girl..." and that was all I had to read. I knew what "stripped" meant, but not "marooned," but the co-ed context gave me hope that "marooning" must be the term for one of those tips described in <i>Cosmo</i> that I didn't quite understand yet. Sure, the kids on the front cover were quite possibly the most unattractive pair I'd ever seen, but still! Ultimately, despite my imaginative "maroon" ideas, there was no purple prose, just some message about bullying in its stead. Disappointing.<br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
Even at age 13, YA lit confirms it: you will die alone, misunderstood, and unloved, and--if you're especially unlucky--marooned.<br />
<br />
Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-31001331349633062052011-08-22T16:48:00.003-04:002011-08-22T16:50:53.287-04:00"The Truth About Mother Goose"<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT6O_2Urk9h9GKvowW9bbIIQGOYC9cxO9Mp4LJM3Ca6ZqwJ3KhqyjZQpGNlomPZGPOmRQuhJP09PEintXN6axyn7YNGUD7ZqYBjljA5cMw13YIpr4yTQTgl2EYUKqgSODc_5KYHmQXMJzL/s1600/PHOTO_9450460_66470_18660554_main.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT6O_2Urk9h9GKvowW9bbIIQGOYC9cxO9Mp4LJM3Ca6ZqwJ3KhqyjZQpGNlomPZGPOmRQuhJP09PEintXN6axyn7YNGUD7ZqYBjljA5cMw13YIpr4yTQTgl2EYUKqgSODc_5KYHmQXMJzL/s200/PHOTO_9450460_66470_18660554_main.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://fan.tcm.com/_The-Truth-About-Mother-Goose-Walt-Disney-1957-d-Wolfgang-Reitherman-3838-Bill-Justice/photo/9450460/66470.html">via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Writing about <i>Mother Goose Rock 'N' Rhyme</i> recently, I was reminded of another Disneyfied look at Mother Goose nursery rhymes that was--if you can believe it--even more macabre. It was the short "The Truth About Mother Goose," which is a kind of exposé of the origins of popular nursery rhymes. <br />
<br />
One has to wonder how many of these explanations are apocryphal, in the same spurious vein as the "true story" everyone hears about "Ring Around the Rosie" being <a href="http://www.snopes.com/language/literary/rosie.asp">about the Black Death</a>.<br />
<br />
The most memorable part for me was the bit considering "Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary," which the cartoon claims tells the tragic story of Mary, Queen of Scots. In this segment, we see, among other things, the beheading of one of Mary's lovers and the exploding(!) of her "weakling" husband. As the camera then pans to reveal the innumerable corpses of soldiers who died defending Mary's honor, all piled into sky-high mounds, Mary reflects on the carnage with an unruffled, "Oh dear."<br />
<br />
After Elizabeth I grows jealous of Mary's popularity at court, she has her cousin imprisoned in the Tower, and the jester-narrators sing the saddest, most dirge-like rendition of "Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary" that you'll ever hear as Mary ascends the Tower steps and the screen fades to black, indicating her botched execution via multiple strokes of a butcher's axe. Ouch.<br />
<br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? / With silver bells and cockle shells, and the tears of kids who watch this show.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">"The Truth About Mother Goose." Dir. Bill Justice, Wolfgang Reitherman. Perf. Page Cavanaugh Trio. Disney, 1957.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Watch Part 1 on YouTube <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jeURETLKf68">here</a> and Part 2 <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8BqHncfuJo&feature=related">here</a>.</span><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Walt-Disney-Treasures-Rarities-Celebrated/dp/B000ATQYUG?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Walt Disney Treasures - Disney Rarities - Celebrated Shorts, 1920s - 1960s</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B000ATQYUG" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-88264423232953396072011-08-12T11:37:00.006-04:002011-08-13T06:20:22.568-04:00"Mother Goose Rock 'N' Rhyme"<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQBiT8JnqAaPZ0PZ96ns9V25v6QLrtQoy6NaoxgvegSF8H5CAM6Q8Vog2gSBxCRmaVaB5TOWgxDZGgdvzlY7iZrcJoUar9e0SiroyCUBcRbPo87iJlN4iTel_vgiqdZoRed0JDWFy8AWZh/s1600/ishot-1096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQBiT8JnqAaPZ0PZ96ns9V25v6QLrtQoy6NaoxgvegSF8H5CAM6Q8Vog2gSBxCRmaVaB5TOWgxDZGgdvzlY7iZrcJoUar9e0SiroyCUBcRbPo87iJlN4iTel_vgiqdZoRed0JDWFy8AWZh/s200/ishot-1096.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://ttxvn.blogspot.com/2010/07/trip-down-memory-lane-mother-goose-rock.html">via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Here's a fun puzzler for your pub trivia night: Where can you find Little Richard, the Stray Cats, Debbie Harry, Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel all working together on a 1990 musical project? Nope, it's not <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w5cX_ncZLls">Band Aid</a>.<br />
<br />
What if I tossed in Ben Vereen and Pia Zadora for good measure? Or, just for kicks, Shelley Duvall, Woody Harrelson, Katey Sagal, and Cheech Marin? Still stumped? There's a Dweezil Zappa cameo in there too... <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The film is </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Mother Goose Rock 'N' Rhyme</i>, a former staple of Disney channel daytime programming in the early nineties. And if you've ever wondered at the possibility of </span></span>bestiality between Mary and her Little Lamb, this is the movie for you.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">The basic story is that Mother Goose has been kidnapped and her son, Gordon Goose, tries to rescue her with the help of the "Rhymies" who inhabit Rhymeland. Gordon feels superior to the Rhymies because he believes himself to be Mother Goose's biological son, but at the end he learns he is simply a product of one of Mother Goose's earlier, less memorable poetic endeavors and his entire life has been a lie. ("What was that, sweetie? No, <i>of course </i>you're not secretly adopted! Wherever did you get <i>that</i> idea? Have you been watching that movie again?" As a child, I remained skeptical.)</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Bobby Brown plays all three blind mice (what, Stevie Wonder wasn't available?), and ZZ Top play the three men in a tub, although strangely, given that they're in a film that promises both "rock" and "rhyme," they never sing or play any instruments, just silently point.... and float along in their tub. Very odd.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">But the most terrifying part has to be when Gordon is banished to the castle dungeon by Old King Cole and is shackled to the wall and tortured by a metal band whose aesthetic falls somewhere between Gwar and KISS. (Just follow the bouncing ball to sing along--it's an interactive torture experience, kiddies! Sample lyric: "You've been a BAD BOY, a VERY bad boy, / we'll have to PUNISH you!") </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Apparently they are called "The Dank," which is actually kind of awesome, and the lineup includes the</span></span> lead guitarist for Ratt. Then, because being subjected to karaoke-ready dungeon death metal Guantanamo Bay-style <i>somehow</i> hasn't cheered Gordon up enough, he is tickle-tortured by two creepy clowns in yellow fright wigs. And this is a kids' movie?<br />
<br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
After <i>The Shining</i>, Shelley Duvall must have wanted to tackle a <i>really</i> dark film for a change. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Mother Goose Rock 'N' Rhyme</i>. Dir. Jeff Stein. Perf. Shelley Duvall, Dan Gilroy, Jean Stapleton. Disney, 1990.</span><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mother-Goose-Rock-Rhyme-VHS/dp/1571322434?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Mother Goose Rock N Rhyme [VHS]</a><br />
Sing along with the terrifying dungeon song on YouTube <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JAGeVY-pce0"><span id="goog_1995370529"></span>here</a>.<br />
<img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=1571322434" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-31798948664535818142011-08-01T19:42:00.004-04:002011-09-21T20:52:07.720-04:00Taking a gander at what brings you to the Goose<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiElLHcHwrCAZLSdDPAj7y3BXsAP0ABqy1cthyPOO5T_L_oN2SAO9Q3UPdSf82n_ZsDdeY6X1FvLxA9tRJoJCGxX-4nhL9_p92Y7rPlDbmYci53FHm1rddZ26g_aaSHU6gCBeynaOQAck2F/s1600/business-child-kid-computer-intern-150x150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiElLHcHwrCAZLSdDPAj7y3BXsAP0ABqy1cthyPOO5T_L_oN2SAO9Q3UPdSf82n_ZsDdeY6X1FvLxA9tRJoJCGxX-4nhL9_p92Y7rPlDbmYci53FHm1rddZ26g_aaSHU6gCBeynaOQAck2F/s1600/business-child-kid-computer-intern-150x150.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://blog.socrato.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/business-child-kid-computer-intern-150x150.jpg">via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: right;"></div>I have never really promoted this blog anywhere, so it's been pretty interesting to see how folks wind up finding it. The most popular posts have continued to be the <a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/search/label/Uncle%20Arthur">Uncle Arthur</a> analyses, with many searches in particular for "<a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/uncle-arthurs-bedtime-stories-jesus.html">Jesus Understood</a>," "<a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/01/uncle-arthurs-bedtime-stories-hollow.html">The Hollow Pie</a>," and "<a href="http://www.smothergoose.com/2011/03/uncle-arthurs-bedtime-stories-two.html">The Two Carolines</a>." Judging from the accompanying search terms, it seems there's a whole coterie of individuals who were traumatized by these bedtime stories and who now strive to exorcise their childhood demons via Google search. "Uncle Arthur horror," "Uncle Arthur's Bedtime Stories scared me," and "Why Uncle Arthur?," you are not alone!<br />
<br />
There's also a large contingent of educators who seem to find the site. To those looking for "Not Now Bernard lesson plans," "Teaching Itsy Bitsy Spider hand movements," and "Love You Forever classroom activities," I'm afraid I can't help you. I think you could probably effectively impart the same key life lessons by sitting the kiddos down in a semicircle on a cold concrete floor and having them watch <i>Requiem for a Dream</i>, and then at the end, telling them you're all out of Goldfish and juice for the day.<br />
<br />
To the surprising percentage of you seeking out "smother stories," I regret to inform you that this is not a fetish site. No one here is getting smothered with feather pillows, silk, or various body parts as you seem to so fervently desire-- at least that I know of; I haven't finished going through all the Disney movies yet. I do sincerely hope you're not looking for smothering instructions for some kind of real-life application-- instead, might I humbly suggest couples counseling?<br />
<br />
The most recent bump in page views can be attributed to a sudden upswing in people Googling "David Bowie's crotch." If my blog was not what you were expecting, crotch-ogling-Googlers, let me direct you to this (SFW) vintage <a href="http://flavorwire.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/David-Bowie-amp-Iman-via-bohemea.jpeg">photo</a> of the Thin White Duke. Since I can't accommodate the other searchers here, I thought I'd at least try to throw you a--ahem--bone. <br />
<br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
For those of you looking to actually <i>make</i> "smothered goose," this Emeril <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/emeril-lagasse/smothered-duck-with-root-vegetables-recipe/index.html">recipe</a> sounds quite promising.Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-5361298333695284662011-07-26T12:46:00.002-04:002011-07-27T13:49:19.574-04:00"The Cat in the Hat"<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHGp49e0TSBQzwu8tlg96OOQTkTbdojmDZJEaizDOsr2GAqwA0Dnp1XnRIUE0RVqgVMwsWkWKCnnzhpaGMXc_gx910UWtq6M4kaT5Vr7g_riuzMN0bBpJKMD6DBGb7rD2IQZGfjmEEIQIo/s1600/cat_in_the_hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHGp49e0TSBQzwu8tlg96OOQTkTbdojmDZJEaizDOsr2GAqwA0Dnp1XnRIUE0RVqgVMwsWkWKCnnzhpaGMXc_gx910UWtq6M4kaT5Vr7g_riuzMN0bBpJKMD6DBGb7rD2IQZGfjmEEIQIo/s200/cat_in_the_hat.jpg" width="153" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://www.beckley.org/images/cat_in_the_hat.jpg">via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">It started a book,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then it was a play.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Next movies and sequels</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Joined in the fray. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I guess we've all read it</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">At one time or two,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">But in fact it's quite twisted</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">When you think the plot through!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">These two too-young kids </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Are left all alone,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">On their own when a stranger</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Barges into their home.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">He ruins their stuff,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Then boxes he brings</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">And demands that these kiddos</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Must play with his "Things!"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">(In fact, if this tale</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Had a different editor</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">This story might end like</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>To Catch a Predator</i>!) </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">By the end of the story,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The cat has now fled.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The house is cleaned up,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">And no one is dead.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Then when Mother comes home</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">And asks what occurred,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Of the stranger who'd been there</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">They say not a word.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The<b> Lesson learned </b>here is,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">When Mom's at the store</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Beware all strange felines</span><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">And lock the front door! </span></i><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Seuss, Dr. [Theodor Seuss Geisel.] <i>The Cat in the Hat</i>. New York: Random House, 1957.</span><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cat-Hat-Dr-Seuss/dp/039480001X?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">The Cat in the Hat</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=039480001X" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-42143230867714199422011-07-20T23:42:00.002-04:002011-07-21T14:42:43.556-04:00"Follow That Bird"<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj9T-69cXXvI1WvP2sWQaUaKSdiGdyfCEAzzH8SH0DpCC8OugN-Zapgh7Dg2sNMk8A6GseDCefMS3r5-KYwYn79cVs4XBeKGauUQMYbvCpQMXT2Kjva1GIUAg4iRzi1_TFamvrLH5UDXyU/s1600/follow_that_bird_pdp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj9T-69cXXvI1WvP2sWQaUaKSdiGdyfCEAzzH8SH0DpCC8OugN-Zapgh7Dg2sNMk8A6GseDCefMS3r5-KYwYn79cVs4XBeKGauUQMYbvCpQMXT2Kjva1GIUAg4iRzi1_TFamvrLH5UDXyU/s200/follow_that_bird_pdp.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="http://www.bam.org/viewdocument.aspx?did=3869">via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><i>Sesame Street</i> taught me a lot of valuable life lessons. Through it, I learned some rudimentary sign language, how to count to 12, and the fact that when people die, like Mr. Hooper did, they don't come back (and that revelation in itself is a post for another day). <br />
<br />
This is part of why the message of <i>Follow That Bird</i> comes as such a shock. The main antagonist is Miss Finch, a social worker who places Big Bird with a family of dodos so he can "be with his own kind" (a strange choice since as we all know, Big Bird is actually a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tCIeAJ5hRfE">lark</a>). Instilling a fear of social workers in young children doesn't seem like the best idea, especially since in this case she does seem to have a point: Big Bird is just six years old and living on the street, his only best friend is an extinct and possibly imaginary woolly mammoth, and he regularly hangs out with grouches who live in trash cans. So, living in a suburban home with a nice nuclear family doesn't seem like such a bad tradeoff.<br />
<br />
In an attempt to flee from Miss Finch, Big Bird takes refuge with the Sleaze Brothers, an aptly-named pair who run a traveling funfair. The Sleaze Brothers kidnap Big Bird, paint him blue, and force him to perform in their show as "The Bluebird of Happiness." As said "Bluebird," Big Bird sings what is perhaps the saddest song ever written, "I'm So Blue." Criminal psychologists could show this scene to easily diagnose sociopathy; in fact, if you don't shed at least a tear or two, you're probably not even human.<br />
<br />
Five years after <i>Follow That Bird</i>, the band They Might Be Giants released a song called "Birdhouse in Your Soul" that never failed to remind me of this heartbreaking scene. Luckily, I felt no dubious emotional connection to "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)" so the album wasn't a total loss.<br />
<br />
<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
Make a little birdhouse in your soul.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Follow That Bird.</i> Dir. Ken Kwapis. Perf. Carol Spinney, Jim Henson, Frank Oz. Warner Bros., 1985.</span><br />
Watch Big Bird break your heart as the "Bluebird of Happiness" on YouTube <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WooaGkKSwpY">here</a>.<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sesame-Street-Presents-Follow-That/dp/B001MYIQMW?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Sesame Street Presents: Follow That Bird</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B001MYIQMW" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339768093089190228.post-30422544663963437382011-07-19T10:00:00.001-04:002014-11-23T08:56:23.170-05:00"Are You My Mother?"<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ueVQMZYeHTKeRO82UdB00HRA1ndc0Jpir9ilM0eC2gLB5r_naP4qejAMiNxYLT191aKGsir68YBJXgewa6ekyMfbLXPzW_x7yxXySYp9duPAySshb3bORvJx4KhntQ7ZZ2XxplhrZcRP/s1600/bb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ueVQMZYeHTKeRO82UdB00HRA1ndc0Jpir9ilM0eC2gLB5r_naP4qejAMiNxYLT191aKGsir68YBJXgewa6ekyMfbLXPzW_x7yxXySYp9duPAySshb3bORvJx4KhntQ7ZZ2XxplhrZcRP/s200/bb.jpg" height="200" width="100" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi2QVDw_5yD7s6_AfO0B9_lpm5_V40Rt8nbsufpydGAI0xnq3g1x56Q8IJgKEYB4swfhp_tIKL2VlmiMau_47GkK_dvA09uhGYrd8Xh1jmkYF_LCg9zjyRKp9NqzNPEqu2z_xzbav76P_w/s1600-h/bb.jpg">via</a></td></tr>
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What are a new mother's most innate, primal fears? Perhaps the thought that she will be a bad mother, or that something bad might happen to her baby, or--if she watches a lot of Lifetime movies--the anxiety that, due to some mixup, <i>the wrong mother will raise her child</i>. <br />
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How about a kid's most immediate fears? Getting lost, losing a parent, or perhaps finding out that <i>your parents aren't really your parents after all</i>.<br />
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With the classic children's book <i>Are You My Mother?</i> P. D. Eastman has tapped into every single one of these fears, all in clear, simple language, that, as the cover boasts, your child can read all by himself.<br />
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In the beginning of the book, the mother bird realizes her baby is about to hatch, so she goes off to find food. The baby thus enters the world cold, alone, and abandoned, and promptly falls out of the nest. He asks a kitten if it is his mother, but "the kitten just looked and looked." This is perhaps the most implausible aspect of a book that contains talking animals, a robin sporting a polka-dot kerchief, and an excavator gentle enough to transport a baby bird. I cannot imagine any cat that would "just look and look" should it be approached by a helpless baby bird fallen out of its nest. Just saying.<br />
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Over the course of the next few pages, the baby bird is devastated to learn that a hen, a dog, a cow, a boat, a plane, and a "snort" (excavator) are not its mother. The scene where he futilely chases after the airplane in an image reminiscent of a reverse-but-equally-desperate <i>North by Northwest</i> moment is particularly poignant.<br />
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Eventually, the baby bird meets and recognizes his mother (he knows it is she because she is "a bird," although I'm not certain how that reasoning disqualifies the hen), and the reader learns that phenotypical biology trumps all, even though she is a neglectful parent who abandoned her child in the first hour of life and maybe her offspring could have been much better off as the adopted son of the cow.<br />
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<b>Lesson learned:</b><br />
Make sure your child knows that the excavator is not actually called a "snort." Otherwise, when your hyperactive, jittery offspring pleads loudly in the toy store that he really needs a "snort," someone might call Child Protective Services.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Eastman, P. D. <i>Are You My Mother?</i> New York: Random House, 1960.</span><br />
Watch the story told on <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d1s4ZUYgUGw">YouTube.</a> <br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Are-You-Mother-P-D-Eastman/dp/0394800184?ie=UTF8&tag=smothe-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Are You My Mother?</a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=smothe-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0394800184" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />Smother Goosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13186530202391136732noreply@blogger.com1