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Thursday, November 22, 2007


Where Are the Superfriends of Our Youth?

Y'know what's pissing me off about Thanksgiving these days? I'll tell you. It's not the explosive diarrhea that comes with eating eight ounces of cranberry sauce. It's not the barely concealed sexual tension between Al Roker and Willard Scott when they do segments together during the Macy's parade.

It's the lack of network cartoons.

When I was a kid, the networks used to be considerate. They knew that parents were saddled with their stupid kids all day. And, to help them out, the networks used to run special extra broadcasts of their Saturday morning cartoons.

My sister and I fucking loved that. Not only did we get to eat my Grandpa's stuffing until we puked; not only was the Christmas season now officially here so that we could get to work on our Christmas lists; but here were even more of the cartoons we rotted our brains with on a weekly basis.

It was awesome! It was like getting extra marshmallows on your spaghetti. It made a great day that much greater.

I guess what surprises me about the whole experience, in hindsight, is the fact that my sister and I never argued over what cartoons to watch. That's rare, people. My sister never tried to force me to watch any girly shit. She was totally down with Scooby and with Tarzan and the Super 7 and with that Godzilla cartoon except for the godforsaken presence of "Godzookie." We shared the same taste in shitty animation.

Don't get me wrong, our youth wasn't all sunshine and ass-rainbows. Remind me to tell you sometime about how she and my cousin Jen always made me be Sabrina when we played Charlie's Angels.

But our mutual cartooning was harmonious. Even more so on a Thanksgiving morning, lying in a mashed potato-induced stupor in the "little room" at my grandparents'.

Today's kids don't get to share that same wonderful experience. No, they're forced to choose between 3000 cable channels or updating their MySpace page or texting their 12-year-old friends from the kids' table. What a pitiful, Scoobyless existence.

Koombaya, my lord, koombaya...

It's funny. I haven't read your blog in a long time, and for some reason I clicked on it tonight...must have been a sisterly vibe...kind of like that n'sync cartoon thing.

All kidding aside, I remember that pretty much the same way.

I love you very much...ya little shit.
We never got to watch those because all of the men in the family were watching football. Because we lived in California and the weather was nice, we had to play outside, missing the smells.

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