Remember when you were a kid? If you are about my age that is. Getting out of school and heading home for a snack and some quality (I am being serious here) television. Of course you do Dear Reader. Whether you admit to it or not is none of my beeswax. Nor would I want it to be. I have quite enough beeswax as things stand. In the corner. On the corner. As traffic flows. Back to the golden years.
Afterschool television. Not the moralizing "
Afterschool specials." Not they they sucked or anything. I am thinking of two shows in particular. Go on, take a guess. You know you want to. You can do it. You really can. You'll feel a bit foolish if you don't. OK. I won't press it.
Gilligan's Island and
The Flintstones. Did you get 'em? Just one? Were you even in the ballpark? A
coupla weeks ago the
Gilligan's Island DVD set arrived. The complete series. Hardly had I finished cataloging it when my brother borrowed it. He is installing built-in bookshelves in my as-of-the-present-moment-unnamed library. I couldn't say no. Maybe I could have loaned it to him a disc at a time. Like
Netflix. He could pay more for additional discs. Yesterday the 24-disc
Flintstones box set arrived. Maybe I should say rock set. The container is plastic and shaped like a prehistoric rock television set. Just like the one on which Fred and Barney watched the fights. It doesn't fit on my media shelves. So many memories. Fuzzy golden nimbi. Or
nimbuses, also fuzzy and also golden. Both are acceptable. You do remember how to get into the Loyal Order of Water Buffaloes Lodge don't you Dear Reader? That was a good one.
Man at bus stop to lady with violin case: "Your name is Faye, isn't it?"
