This place matters

This place matters

Monday, March 12, 2012

Just hit the Back button and take a slug of whiskey

John Cusack's character, Rob, began the movie High Fidelity with the following question:
What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?
I would ask a similar question: Which came first, the cartoons or the staggering unpopularity? My parents tried to save me from the fate, withholding Popeye and Mighty Mouse and GI Joe and the Ninja Turtles. They made me do sports, play outside, read books, hang out with my grandma. Yet the cartoons found me, and they sucked me in.
As you may well know from my mindless ramblings on the subject, of Bruce Springsteen and Mr. Rogers, I'm a bit prone to hero worship. Which is where Gadget comes in. 


Which is where the headline of this post comes in. Even Google Images' safe search couldn't protect my childhood from being horribly assaulted by that unholiest of unholies, fan art. Don't search it man, just don't. I mean some of it's almost tasteful but... no, I can't do it. I can't continue with this post. I need to curl up in a ball and go to my happy place, then bleach all of the memories of every cartoon I've ever watched from my mind.

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