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newsmanfan
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So…it’s 7.15 am, I’ve been up all night, I’m sitting up in bed with my laptop perched above the blankets and my glasses perched atop my nose and squinting because I already took some valerian to try and sleep…but these thoughts keep running around in my head, and perhaps if I commit them to text for posting later today they’ll leave me alone long enough to submit to slumber…
Here’s the thing. I slacked off tonight, did no writing, and instead amused myself with other things, notably watching “Follow That Bird!” Wow, that brought back some memories for an old-school ’Street fan. I was delighted with the whole thing, and laughed my skinny yellow butt off several times, right up through the Count’s wonderful commentary on the end credits.
And then I sat there, realizing I’d just further cemented my nerd status. And then I started wondering why. Why is it, despite the avowed fanship of millions globally, that we who proudly proclaim ourselves to love the Muppets (or, in my case, to still love them these many years later) are given odd looks, are snickered at, are immediately dubbed uncool by the majority, it seems, of unimaginiative herd beasts who think they run the world? I know ilovemusic and others have complained on this forum how they’ve been socially discriminated against by their peers simply for loving the simple joy of a clever group of puppets.
Why?
What exactly is it about people that causes this divide? I know of people who watched, for instance, ‘Sesame Street’ as children but would rather have root surgery than admit they still like Muppets…because they fear negative peer-branding. And there are others who never even saw the appeal. There are plenty of people here, I’ve noticed, who are worldly and appreciate a more sophisticated – or even a more jaded – point of view, who have no problem saying “I adore Muppets!” So, I don’t think a generalization such as “people outgrow innocent pleasures” is sufficient. Are the majority of humans completely unimaginative, and unable to see the value in an artistic, and yes, relatively innocent phenomenon? Or are they so sucked-into the culture of posturing and status that they’re afraid to admit to liking it? Do they have dust in their skulls, or are they herd animals?
I know, I know, at my age I should have figured this all out already. Being around you folks has done something to me and for me, though: as a kid – well, really, my entire life, with few exceptions – I’ve always been the outcast, the nerd, the weirdo, the wimp…you name the invective, I’ve had it hurled at me. Years ago I got past the hurt and the bitterness, but I also became very cynical. If you’d asked me this same question I’m asking you just a few months ago, my reply would have been Who cares?
Well, suddenly I care again, and am able to ask why without huddling in the corner afraid of the answer. Thank you all for that. : >)
Yes, I know. This is a rambling post. I tell stories better than I report them, and I can hear the critics now:
Statler: Hey, Newsie! I’ve just figured out your style!
Me: My…my style?
Statler: Yeah! You write like Rick Moranis!
Me: (total confusion) Rick Moranis doesn’t write, or report the news!
Statler: Exactly! (with Waldorf) Oh, ho ho ho ho!
So, a piece of story: one semester during my strange college career, I lived in a genuine bunaglow house off-campus with two guys whom I had nothing in common with, but mostly we got along decently. They’d painted the whole interior bright turquoise and loud pink (I have no idea why, but darn, that place was CHEERFUL), and instead of a dining table in the large dining room, they’d put in an enormous billiards table. I’m no shark (that would be my brother – do not play him for money, ever), but I can hold my own on average, and if I’m not really competing, there’s something immensely soothing about the game to me. The soft clack of the balls, the feel of the felt, the mental zone you can enter while your intuitive brain is feeling the angles rather than computing them, the non-strenuous physicality of it, all tend to predispose me to serious thoughts. I had a good friend then, exactly five years my senior (we share the same birthday), who was getting a Master’s in psychology, and he and I would share a bottle of wine and spend hours, day after day, playing pool and talking, and those sessions were as close as this mistrustful misfit will ever come to psychoanalysis.
I have no idea where that friend is now…however. Here, there are new friends, and intelligent, creative, and sometimes also-outcast folk who might be able to figure this out with me. Why do we, as a culture, seem to value the loss, the total abandonment, of innocence and the love of what others deem “childish interests”? Why are those of us who hold to (or renew) the certainly-not-exclusively-Muppet values of art, and friendship, and truth and loyalty regarded as something lesser? Why do many out there seem to think you can’t love Muppets and still be “cool”? Why don’t more people who do fondly recall watching them speak up? Are we really outnumbered by the mundanes who think reality shows, celebrity gossip, the newest FPS videogames and repetitive biggest-fad-this-hour pop stars are the height of “cool”… or are too many humans just behaving like frightened sheep?
Here’s my new pool table. Well, okay, it isn’t new; but the felt is newly laid down, it has real slate underneath, the balls are antique and a bit faded and have a nice weight to them, and although it’s regulation size, I’ve cut down the legs so any Muppet can reach the table. There are plenty of beverages-of-your-choice in the kitchen (cold or warm). I have chalk and a bridge and extra cues…and I’ll even let you have the first break.
*Newsie holds out a cue*
Um, I’ll rack. Anyone?
Here’s the thing. I slacked off tonight, did no writing, and instead amused myself with other things, notably watching “Follow That Bird!” Wow, that brought back some memories for an old-school ’Street fan. I was delighted with the whole thing, and laughed my skinny yellow butt off several times, right up through the Count’s wonderful commentary on the end credits.
And then I sat there, realizing I’d just further cemented my nerd status. And then I started wondering why. Why is it, despite the avowed fanship of millions globally, that we who proudly proclaim ourselves to love the Muppets (or, in my case, to still love them these many years later) are given odd looks, are snickered at, are immediately dubbed uncool by the majority, it seems, of unimaginiative herd beasts who think they run the world? I know ilovemusic and others have complained on this forum how they’ve been socially discriminated against by their peers simply for loving the simple joy of a clever group of puppets. Why?
What exactly is it about people that causes this divide? I know of people who watched, for instance, ‘Sesame Street’ as children but would rather have root surgery than admit they still like Muppets…because they fear negative peer-branding. And there are others who never even saw the appeal. There are plenty of people here, I’ve noticed, who are worldly and appreciate a more sophisticated – or even a more jaded – point of view, who have no problem saying “I adore Muppets!” So, I don’t think a generalization such as “people outgrow innocent pleasures” is sufficient. Are the majority of humans completely unimaginative, and unable to see the value in an artistic, and yes, relatively innocent phenomenon? Or are they so sucked-into the culture of posturing and status that they’re afraid to admit to liking it? Do they have dust in their skulls, or are they herd animals?
I know, I know, at my age I should have figured this all out already. Being around you folks has done something to me and for me, though: as a kid – well, really, my entire life, with few exceptions – I’ve always been the outcast, the nerd, the weirdo, the wimp…you name the invective, I’ve had it hurled at me. Years ago I got past the hurt and the bitterness, but I also became very cynical. If you’d asked me this same question I’m asking you just a few months ago, my reply would have been Who cares?
Well, suddenly I care again, and am able to ask why without huddling in the corner afraid of the answer. Thank you all for that. : >)
Yes, I know. This is a rambling post. I tell stories better than I report them, and I can hear the critics now:
Statler: Hey, Newsie! I’ve just figured out your style!
Me: My…my style?
Statler: Yeah! You write like Rick Moranis!
Me: (total confusion) Rick Moranis doesn’t write, or report the news!
Statler: Exactly! (with Waldorf) Oh, ho ho ho ho!
So, a piece of story: one semester during my strange college career, I lived in a genuine bunaglow house off-campus with two guys whom I had nothing in common with, but mostly we got along decently. They’d painted the whole interior bright turquoise and loud pink (I have no idea why, but darn, that place was CHEERFUL), and instead of a dining table in the large dining room, they’d put in an enormous billiards table. I’m no shark (that would be my brother – do not play him for money, ever), but I can hold my own on average, and if I’m not really competing, there’s something immensely soothing about the game to me. The soft clack of the balls, the feel of the felt, the mental zone you can enter while your intuitive brain is feeling the angles rather than computing them, the non-strenuous physicality of it, all tend to predispose me to serious thoughts. I had a good friend then, exactly five years my senior (we share the same birthday), who was getting a Master’s in psychology, and he and I would share a bottle of wine and spend hours, day after day, playing pool and talking, and those sessions were as close as this mistrustful misfit will ever come to psychoanalysis.
I have no idea where that friend is now…however. Here, there are new friends, and intelligent, creative, and sometimes also-outcast folk who might be able to figure this out with me. Why do we, as a culture, seem to value the loss, the total abandonment, of innocence and the love of what others deem “childish interests”? Why are those of us who hold to (or renew) the certainly-not-exclusively-Muppet values of art, and friendship, and truth and loyalty regarded as something lesser? Why do many out there seem to think you can’t love Muppets and still be “cool”? Why don’t more people who do fondly recall watching them speak up? Are we really outnumbered by the mundanes who think reality shows, celebrity gossip, the newest FPS videogames and repetitive biggest-fad-this-hour pop stars are the height of “cool”… or are too many humans just behaving like frightened sheep?
Here’s my new pool table. Well, okay, it isn’t new; but the felt is newly laid down, it has real slate underneath, the balls are antique and a bit faded and have a nice weight to them, and although it’s regulation size, I’ve cut down the legs so any Muppet can reach the table. There are plenty of beverages-of-your-choice in the kitchen (cold or warm). I have chalk and a bridge and extra cues…and I’ll even let you have the first break.
*Newsie holds out a cue*
Um, I’ll rack. Anyone?
