Snowflake #2 was watching Dora the Explorer at some point over the weekend and I’m not entirely sure why. With kindergarten looming and preschool graduation behind us, she might have been feeling nostalgic for simpler times. It’s also possible that the TiVo remote wasn’t within immediate reach.
I’d have been okay never encountering Dora again, though should I ever master the art of remedial animation, I want to create the episode where the psychotropic drugs wear off or run their course (perhaps as a side effect for treatment from a rabid monkey or fox bite) and not everything in the Dora-verse has a face and you can no longer (or at a minimum, shouldn’t) barter with hugs as currency. I’ll be taking the show in a decidedly darker and grittier direction.
I‘m not certain why Dora has always seemed to produce such a visceral reaction from me. Maybe it was the oddities of her life lessons? I really can’t think of anything good to come from playing a soccer match against non-human carnivores or combing through your own trash. I don’t need my kids to learn all these things for themselves or even be tempted to try a few of them.
As for her sidekicks, I never fully understood why Boots’s father dressed like Michael Douglas from the original Wall Street while Boots wore only, well, boots.
I think Boots might have been one of my main triggers. I just never understood the boots. Was that really his most distinguishing feature? I’m not suggesting everyone should be referred to by their defining physical characteristics, but it just seems like if you were an English speaking monkey, at some point you could’ve defended yourself well enough to insist your name was Brian or something… unless maybe there was some Game of Thrones-level torture going on that the audience never saw.
At which point, poor Brian or Boots or whomever. I’ll cover this point during my Dora season too.
Mentioning Game of Thrones, I don’t really get that show either. It’s like Nerdom for the masses, but personally I find it little more than a great sleep aid. There is truly something about the show that knocks me right out… and this makes conversations about it even more painful.
Growing up, there were times I was embarrassed that someone might learn how much I truly loved Batman. Today it’s surprising how many people actually want to talk about Game of Thrones. There’s even a Slack channel at work that’s dedicated to the topic… and although I didn’t decide to join the thread, I was added to the group nonetheless. So while I can’t actually admit to anyone that I effortlessly sleep through Game if Thrones, it’s still assumed I’m a fan. And worse, when people want to talk about past episodes, I’m not even sure what I’ve seen, what I’ve slept through, and what parts of what I think I remember are actually sleep induced delirium.
Did I see the Battle of Whatever? I think so. What do I think of the Red Witch? I’m not entirely sure who that is.
Just mentioning Game of Thrones, I think I need a nap. Maybe I should give Boots a call… there’s a chance he’ll want to go paint the town.
I should ask him to dress up.
Maybe he’ll wear his fancy boots.