Just A Little Bit Frightening
I got out about 10K words on Valentine 5 yesterday. Notwithstanding the fact that some of them were stripped out from other drafts and Frankensteined in, my brain still hurts. (Mrs. Shelley is rolling in her grave over my verbing of her character’s name.)
Thought for the morning: my kids love watching Barney on OPB in the morning. All I can think of while it’s playing is how those child actors must be under so much pressure, and the hideous effects that pressure will have on them in ten-fifteen years. The plastic smiles. The smarmy songs. The lines straight out of Dick & Jane. What parent would let their child get involved with something like this? It’s the same problem I have with any other children’s show except Sesame Street. Maybe I’m just old and crotchety.
It’s sunny, and I have coffee, and I’m going to see just what new trouble I can get my favorite Necromance in. I am playing the Cure at high volume in my headphones, mixed with very old Carlos-Gardel-type tango.
Life is good. But children’s television scares me deeply.
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