Good morning, campers....
While it seems like some weeks go by with all the stealth of an octagenerian sloth, others can sprint by like a famished cheetah. This particular week was of the latter type, but by no means am I suggesting that any "fun" was had. It's early Friday morning, and I have the day off. Oblivious and unconcerned with this fact, Charlotte -- our two year old -- stood up in her crib at the crack of 6 am and issued a breathless, high volume mantra to greet the morning: "Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy...." etc. So much for sleepin' late.
It's now about 7 am. I've succumbed to Charlotte's little iron will, plopping her down in front of the television for a bracing eyefull of "Connie the Cow," "Miffy the Bunny" and the bane of my very existence, "Dora the Explorer." I've discussed my feelings about children's television programming here before, but on some mornings, this stuff is really a godsend, despite the toll taken in terms of my sanity (the theme tunes, jingles and incidental songs in these shows are all lethal ear worms). Charlotte loves it, of course, sitting sparkly-eyed and babbling happily at the screen. The real trouble will start when we have to turn it off and begin the day. For the moment, however, she's happy, my wife and the infant are still asleep, and I'm back here in front of the computer again.
While I haven't had much opportunity this week to attend to Flaming Pablum, I do have some items on the burner which I'll hopfully be putting up soon. Some of these include ruminations on the musically pivotal summer of 1980, a needlessly lengthy examination of Martin Scorcese's criminally undersung black comedy, "After Hours," several new additions to the Pablum Playlist, and my hotly debatable assertion that King Crimson were a metal band. Look for these -- along with mindless tidbits, observations, complaints and dubiously-worded declarations --- coming very soon.
But not today. Once I've unglued my daugther's head from the television and roused the rest of the family, we're off to my Mom's place on Long Island (or Strong Island, as Public Enemy used to call it) for a few days of -- hopefully -- sunshine and relaxation. We'll see about that.
So until next time, everyone have a happy `Fourth.
Kill your television.
- Alex in NYC
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