CSotD: Three More Hump Days Before Xmas
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Nice timing, since I was just talking about this to someone yesterday, but, then again, it’s a topic I think about a lot. We used to joke about 150 channels and nothing good on, which was a reaction to growing up with four or five channels and nothing good on.
I’m no snob and I don’t mean to dump on the medium. I agree with what Newton Minow said in 1961: When television is good, it’s really good. When it’s not, it’s really bad. And most of the time, it’s a vast wasteland.
But to condemn the medium outright seems glib and superficial, like going to the ballet and wondering why they don’t just hire taller girls. I like classic ballet and can’t stand modern dance, but I’ve been to both. I like raw oysters and dislike feta cheese, and I’ve tried both of those, too.
There’s a “Try it! You’ll like it!” element in television, and if all you watch is Turner Classic Movies and the news, maybe Ken Burns or Brothers in Arms, you’ve entered society without surrendering to mediocrity.
Meanwhile, your local library is full of books and most of them aren’t very good, but you shouldn’t pride yourself on not reading. Pride yourself on knowing the difference between a bodice-ripper and a classic, even if you’re in the mood for a bodice-ripper.
There’s a John Donne element to television, in the sense that it is such a pervasive part of society that it will affect you with or without your permission or, necessarily, your knowledge. If a Kardashian be washed away by the sea, Beverly Hills is the less.
I find it hard to believe her Grandpa has never heard of Kim Kardashian, particularly since he signs off with a reference to Mr. T, so he can’t plead video virginity. A well-rounded person should recognize the names Kim Kardashian and Margaret Atwood and Ro Khanna and the Dalai Lama and Josh Allen, however much he knows about them.
Miles performs a little jiu-jitsu on Kevin, given that you don’t have to be familiar with the 1765 story to realize that “Goody Two-Shoes” refers to an insufferable prig, although the original story didn’t think of her that way.
The gag here is that Kevin is suddenly disarmed, while, if their roles were reversed, Miles would come back with a list of obscure insults that he had looked up and mastered.
Banx envisions Australian kids wandering around staring at their hands, since the federal government is introducing a law to make it illegal for kids under 16 to access social media on-line, a law that goes into effect Dec 10 and includes fines up to $32 million US for companies that fail to check ages before granting access.
It doesn’t keep kids from having phones; they can still call for a ride after a sports practice or research a history paper, as long as it stays PG. But they can no longer log onto Snapchat, Facebook, Instagram, Kick, Reddit, Threads, TikTok, Twitch, X, and YouTube, all of which are on the government’s age-restricted list.
That’s a lot of toothpaste to cram back into the tube, and it would have been easier to impose those restrictions 20 years ago, before life on-line became a full-time thing.
Prickly City points out that it’s more expensive to fix a problem than to nip it in the bud, which has its appeal, though if our grandparents could hide a dime novel in the corn crib, a bright kid today could slip a phone in some place to avoid being the class weirdo.
And your child develops emotional issues, avoiding help out of pride or cheapness seems abusive.
If the kid broke a leg, you might wish you’d bought insurance, but you’d still seek medical help. And I’m sure you’d find people eager to remind you that they told you so. You wouldn’t even have to ask.
Like this person, for instance. This is a really odd cartoon, because there’s nothing wrong with deciding not to have kids, but there’s something weird about being proud of the decision.
A very good cartoonist launched a strip some years ago that seemed like it was going to be about the single life, but quickly turned into a snarky strip about how much she hated kids. It became the same gag, day after day: “I hate kids.”
I don’t think it lasted. I know I got bored and walked away.
I’m used to strips about the frustrations of parenthood, some of which are better than others, many of which carry a streak of hostility. Big Nate is inventive and realistic; he avoids being a stereotypical slacker.
He’s also a step down from the surrealism of Wallace the Brave. With Wallace, my reaction is often “I wish I’d tried doing that!” while with Nate, it’s more a case of “I remember doing that.” Both are good niches.
As far as stereotypical humor goes, if I want a cartoon that insults my intelligence, I’ll turn to Ruben Bolling, who has cut up his large periodic feature of stupid comics into a one-a-day feature. He often compliments your intelligence by daring you to laugh at something genuinely foolish. It’s like reading the old supermarket tabloids about the Bat Boy and suchlike.
Which I guess makes it kind of snobbish. In this case, for instance, you’re taking pride in knowing that there’s absolutely nothing “Orwellian” about leaving your shoes by the dresser.
It’s Kafkaesque.
Juxtaposition of the Day
Blazek may be riffing on Elon Musk’s cunning plan to install chips in our brains. I’m going to open a store where I sell old-fashioned connecting wires and obsolete USB cords and so forth. I just have to sort out the contents of my big tangled box of unidentifiable wire. I’m sure there’s a huge market for coaxial cable these days.
As for Alexa, she’s been getting kind of blabby lately. I know Jeff’s got some updated versions that he’d love to sell me, but my old original would be fine if she’d quit telling me about some add-on she wants me to have.
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