my childhood has a terminal disease. its called hollywood. symptoms started a few years back when that tird was dropped called “the dukes of hazzard.”
in my childhood it was comprised of john schneider and tom wopat and waylon jennings. when you have that sample in a petri dish and add this “hollywood,” my childhood version dies an agonizing death at the hands of jessica simpson. on mute, this satisfies my late childhood (you know what i mean), but when she speaks, the symptoms kick in.
and although “transformers” looks like it is going to be good, its not the vision from my childhood. its not the wonderful high pitched music that took me to commercial. its not the dinobots, the constructo-cons, the insecto-cons, and i don’t know if bumblebee the VW bug is in it. i loved the cartoon even though my tremor frustrated me with the toys.
don’t even get me started on the garfield movies. steaming tirds, hollywood.
and now. now the straw that puts my childhood in a hospice. they are going to make a live action version of “underdog.” this is a crime against humanity. he obviously won’t be the photographer dog that protects ms. polly pureheart (also a dog) from evil-doers. underdog was my first coloring book that i remember. first one that i remember coloring inside the lines on. i want to thank you hollywood for fucking up yet another wonderful thing from my childhood…

it used to be that there was one place a man could always count on for solitude. a place that one could sit in peace and not have to worry about feeling the need to converse let alone defend a political argument. the can. the throne. the shitter. it was sacred. nevermind the cockbag that feels the need to talk to you, giving you stage fright at the urinal. i am talking about the sitting section, not the SRO part of the lavatory.
you could close that partition door and it would be like a sovereign state of mind. you could take a paper, play on your blackberry, or play some soduku in peace while you took the browns to the super bowl. no more…
lately, i am noticing a regular practice of people printing out political articles (usually about the war in iraq, but recently about the immigration bill) and leaving them folded neatly and sanitarily, i assume, on the TP holders. political propoganda for the crapper. crapoganda.
you can no longer drop a duece without having to endure the reporting on the idiocracy that is the current government. not that i mind. it give me another place to get my news… other than the daily show with jon stewart…