Too many choices in Santa’s vast workshop this year?
The Fogies feel your pain!
C’mon, admit it. You watched “Lunch with Soupy” when you were a kid. Soupy Sales in his clubhouse with a spare, but healthy, luncheon menu in hand. He was Pee Wee Herman the First (only he kept his pants on). Besides being entertaining and enthusiastic, Soupy consistently admonished kids to eat decent food (except for the Jello desserts, perhaps, but then you have to keep your sponsors happy…). Soupy ate what he preached, right before our eyes, and we followed his lead, bite-for-bite. Don’t we need a new Soupy-style icon in the 21st century? One who appeals to fogies? How about an aging star from the new food TV empire, someone soothing who will sit with us and and share an age-appropriate healthy meal?
How about Semi-Homemade Sandra? She looks like she may be getting up there…into her 40’s….
In “A Christmas Carol”, old Scrooge was a mean-spirited miser. He had money, but didn’t want to share it.
Nowadays, old fogies with limited funds play the Scrooge because they can’t afford to buy gifts or have holiday feasts. Some have trouble keeping the heat on.
It’s enough to scare the Dickens out of you.
People don’t do things over and over again unless they produce the results they desire. Why, then, in the case of torture, if the information sought by means of suffering is not successfully gathered, does the torture continue? Could it be that watching the victim suffer becomes an end in and of itself?
WTF! We went to the new “Hunger Games” the other night with high hopes (and big appetites). We thought we were attending one of those regional cooking contests. You know: BBQ or chili or pie. But the only food in sight was stale popcorn with carcinogenic “butter”, limp nachos with cheese, and Raisinettes. Yes, we found ourselves at the movies with a mob of loopy fans dressed in togas and loin cloths. Unhappy, but always conformists, we decided to go ahead and take off our pants and settle in to watch the flick.
About halfway in, my old fogey pal was snoozing. I, however, was on the edge of my seat (primarily because he had slumped over and was laying on my back). What was happening?! Murder and mayhem and lots of freaky costumes. Clearly, another anti-hunting diatribe from the Hollywood improperganda machine.
The whole thing could have been avoided had the main characters not replied: “I’m game!” when they were asked to participate in a bizarre collectivist ritual purported to be fun.
And that was exactly what we were thinking about our own decision to stay and watch the film, a flashy re-hash of a theme that has been exploited numerous times before.
Wait! Did someone say “hash”? Oh, man, now we’re really hungry!