And in the interests of having it both ways, Hasbro has left the toys themselves virtually unchanged.
Mark Simone says that if anything can kill the Far Left Crazy, it’ll be this absurd fetish of being mortally offended by totally trivial and silly things… like the “gender” of Mr./Mrs./Ms./Fhz. Potato Head. If that’s what gets you cranking, there’s obviously something wrong with you and no one should listen to you anymore.
The whole Woke Idol being cast down, in the end, by Mr. Potato Head…
Dept. of Meaningful Coincidences: In trying to paste this link, the lead paragraph came up three times. Three! That can only mean it’s super-important. Heaven knows what would’ve happened if I’d just given up on the whole thing and gone back to bed.
I never saw Peter Gunn because it was 1958, I was nine years old, and my folks sent me to bed well before the show came on. But the sounds of television used to filter up the stairs to my bedroom, and there was just no way I was going to sleep through Henry Mancini’s Peter Gunn theme music. If this was not one of the all-time great TV themes, I don’t know what was.
I was usually still awake anyway, reading Uncle Scrooge, Mickey Mouse, and Archie comics by flashlight–and the light went kind of orangey as the battery ran down. Not good for my eyes.
I heard a lot of great theme music in those days. And Mancini was the greatest of them all.
On the radio yesterday, Sean Hanity was talking about this weird mutant from Pennsylvania–a man who insists he’s a woman, when he isn’t–who’s been nominated to be the No. 2 weirdo in the Biden administration’s health department.
Sean the, ahem, “conservative,” used every female pronoun in the lexicon when referring to this guy, this man who dresses as a woman–whose thing, by the way, is that little children ought to be allowed to “choose their gender” and get mutilating surgery and puberty-blocking drugs to make it stick.
He shouldn’t be in government. He should be on a desert island trying to stay one step ahead of the Komodo dragons.
But there’s Hanity on the air with “she” and “her” and “hers,” speaking of this wacko as if he really were a woman, as if all it takes to be a woman is a set of women’s clothes.
Dude, what in the world do you think you’re “conserving”? Certainly not our culture! Certainly not our sanity. I mean, if you’re going to buy into a lie as big as this, you might as well go whole-hog and swallow all the lies.
Are we to be governed by such creatures as this? Are you okay with that, Sean?
Shame and shame on you.
We don’t need that much stupid on the radio. We don’t need that much cowardice.
I couldn’t find a picture that was even close to what I want to write about here–the once-upon-a-time children’s game that my friends and I called “Russian bulldog.” Just try to find a picture of kids playing without uniforms, without coaches, without every single ethnicity self-consciously included. It can’t be done. Look, I’ve got a picture of a Brontosaurus. But no Russian bulldog.
The game was simplicity itself. No equipment needed. No supervision. No freakin’ sponsor! Somebody’s back yard would do for a field. And you needed was five or six kids.
One would be the Russian bulldog. I have no idea how it got that name. He’d stand in the middle of the field and the others would try to run to the opposite end of the field. He would try to tackle somebody; and whoever he succeeded in bringing down would remain on the field with him as Bulldog No. 2. The rest of the kids would then run down the field again, this time trying to avoid two tacklers. The game would go on until there was just one kid left untackled, and he’d be the Russian bulldog in the next game.
We were really into this game, in my neighborhood, at around the ages of 12-13. We played it a lot. And although it consisted of tackling, and running into each other at top speed, nobody ever got hurt. Maybe because we didn’t wear any equipment.
Did you play Russian bulldog with your friends? And if you did, what did you call it?
P.S.–Patty found this antique photo of English schoolboys playing a game called British Bulldog–very similar to Russian bulldog, only the kids get tagged instead of tackled. Here’s the picture.
This government-funded sculpture/fountain, unveiled in 1938, is a two-mile hike from my door and has always fascinated me. It’s found in Roosevelt Park, Edison Township. As a little boy I used to stare marvelingly at the great globe that topped the fountain. It wasn’t till I was older that I saw the whole thing.
“Light Dispelling Darkness” features heroic figures representing Science, Industry, Agriculture, and Labor–sure, we can always trust these!–triumphing over the ills of the world: war, poverty, disease, capitalism (!)… Well, it was the 1930s and the useful idiots in the Roosevelt administration thought communism and socialism were the way to go. That’s why the “evils” are so creepy–you’ve got to admit, the sculptor had a touch of brilliance–and the purely secular heroic Answers to Every Problem look like their names are Boris, Vladimir, Yuri, and Smerdyakov, etc.
Because of low hillocks, if you want to see the whole thing, you’ve got to walk right up to it. Now and then the parks service has to refresh the paint job. And perhaps you’ll sigh, reflecting on the fact that just a year after this statue was unveiled, World War II broke out. And after that, we discovered that the only things that communism was really good at creating were prison camps and mass graves. The Heroic Answers turned out not to be the answers, after all.
The vanity of human wishes, as Samuel Johnson used to say.
Or better: “Except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it” (Psalm 127:1).
It’s the nature of vacuums to be filled, one way or another. The vacuum created by churches’ failure to teach the Bible has been filled by, among other things, something we might call “pop Christianity.”
Patty and I have been trying to remember the name of a really silly quiz show from many years ago, featuring teams of high school students from all over the country. No, it was not It’s Academic. My friend William A. Smith led the team our school sent to It’s Academic, and he answered all the questions single-handed. A few years later he cleaned up on College Bowl. If you’re reading this, William A., you still da man in my book.
This other show was on early Saturday afternoon, and we watched it a few times because we couldn’t believe how hopeless it was. Two questions in particular stand out.
First, “What state leads the USA in blueberry production?” They had a graphic to go with it–a map of Louisiana with blueberries on it. Duh. The question was multiple choice: A. Louisiana. B. Nevada C. Arizona. D. Kazakhstan. And would you believe it? Even with that big fat hint in front of them, none of the students–none!–got the answer.
The other question was even sillier. Again, multiple choice. A certain king of France (either Louis XIV or Louis XVI–hard to keep track of all the Looies) was very short of stature, so they invented something to make him taller when he attended a formal dance, creating a fashion still in vogue today. One of the multiple choice items was “Stilts.” Stilts for ballroom dancing. The answer was “High heels,” with a picture of the king wearing high heels, but the hint was to no avail.
Were they kidding? But wouldn’t you know it? “Stilts” was the answer they picked.
After that, we stopped watching the show. I have no idea how long it lasted on TV.
Imagine the appalling results if they brought it back today.
Can any of you out there remember the name of this show? We’re stumped.