Suffer little children…

I took my three year old to the cinema this weekend for the first time. Sorta a fathers day thing. After getting tickets, popcorn and carcongenic slurpee equivalents and taking out a second mortgage on my house to pay for all this frivolity, I then had to explain to my daughter, having never seen one before, what a commercial was (which was actually kinda difficult).

What a time to be alive.

Gone are the dark days when your twenty minutes of Saturday morning Thundercats (trying to think of something suitably eightees) was interjected (at the most critical juncture in the storyline) with ten minutes of psychological warfare and subliminal messaging. All hail Netflix!


Maybe you also remember those TV test pattern thingies. I suppose depending how old you are, that could mean color swatches… or I suppose (if you are nearing the end of your lifespan now) an Indian head…


For my kids the equivalent of that is a spinning progress indicator…

Never will my daughter have to experience the rage of your sibling taping over your VHS of carefully curated BraveStarr episodes with My little Pony (when they got to witness a real life version of ‘strength of the bear!’) Nor will they ever have to watch an entire series of Ducktales or Robotech out of sequence.

I worry that this will make them somehow a weaker generation, having not had to suffer like I did.


  1. Forget commercials and VHS tapes.
    DIAL-UP was the real test of character. These days all of us will burst a blood vessel if it takes more than 3 seconds to open up a browser window, but back in the days, we had to be made of sturdier stuff to survive.

    1. Oh my gosh. Dial-up. I remember I had a 14,400bps modem… and my friend only had 9,600… I was soooooo damn cool!!!

      1. I have nightmares about circus music.

        Wait… maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that because now you know my weakness.

      2. Lol. Your mind works in strange… and not entirely linear ways.

        Not sure how your survive in ‘corporate’ work environment.

      3. With great difficulty.
        It’s most of the reason I’m on Twitter – being forced to make sense all day takes it toll on me, so I need to get the randomness out somehow.

      1. Yeah. But imagine an obese Maine Coon thats eaten its owner. Instead of a social feline sitting on your lap.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: