Seriously, we live in a golden age in which all of our desires are identified before we even become aware of them. While writing grant essays this weekend I watched many hours of television – every single show now appears to be written by me or specifically for me. Yesterday I alternated STNG with reading Don Kulick’s Travesti, an ethnography of transvestite Brazlian prostitutes who like to inject themselves with industrial silicon. This produced an indescribable effect, especially when Picard had to recite some of Shakespeare’s sonnets in order to rescue Loxana Troy from the Ferengi.
Today I saw several episodes of The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy, one of which was called “Prank Call of Cthulu” (they omitted the final h for reasons of their own) and one of which involved the ghost of Lord Byron becoming lodged in Billy’s mouth. Lord Byron then taught Billy the way of the fop before disappearing into a cleansing light (At one point in a paroxysm of nerdy simultaneity Byron recites the Litany of Fear from Dune). I followed this with several hours of Spongebob, which is like having an inexpensive brain operation. Also, I am now in love with the squirrel, Sandy, who lives under the sea in some kind of sophisticated biodome. This blended into Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi, which is more conventional than its name implies.
Finally, Jessie and I watched a sublime Food Network show in which six chefs competed to create gigantic, tacky sculptures out of cupcakes. The winning entry honest-to-god involved a dragon fighting a horde of fairies. Hark to the call of the whyte wyrm! The Solstice Season is upon us, and Queen Mab demandeth an attractive arrangement of pastries which is at least three feet tall and 70% cupcake!
1 comment:
That's Lwaxana, btdubs. Clearly, I take my self-appointed post of Moon Sash Productions Copy Editor VERY seriously. BUT! I have been arguing that television is the best thing evar for this whole year! YAY! We are SO in agreement!
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