The Affable Behemoth

A fond memory from childhood, was watching the children's television program, "The Friendly Giant".  It was a mainstay of the CBC, first airing in the fall of 1958 and remaining on air for twenty-seven years.  Entertaining children, and then their children, and their children, then their's and their's and so on, with fun songs and stories.

At the start of every show, Friendly would position some wood chairs around a fireplace (as shown in the center picture), suggesting that a viewer and their family might like to come for a visit, to enjoy the festivities firsthand.  As a small tyke, I'd hoped on more than one occasion, that our family might take a vacation, traveling the vast distance to Friendly's castle.  With my nose pressed up against the TV, I'd choose which chair I'd be seated in and determine where my parents and sister would sit.  Even though I was awash with the magic and fantasy of it all, I did question the position of the chairs and fireplace with regards to where Friendly and his friends put on their show, often remarking how awkward it would be to have crook our necks all the way back to look virtually straight up.  The way Friendly handles those "over-sized" chairs, they still dwarf in his hands, therefore his size is much larger than that of a regular giant. We were like ants to him.  I'm certain that the fabled giant, who faced off against Jack when he climbed that beanstalk would appear quite puny if standing side-by-side with The Friendly Giant.

It wasn't just my small brain that questioned the logistics of the show.  As I grew older and smarter, I started to question everything about the show.  For instance, Friendly's sidekicks.  A giraffe and a chicken.  Growing up on a farm, I did get to see some large roosters and hens, but I've never seen a cock of giant proportions like Rusty the Rooster.  There was definitely some radioactive testing or some kind of shit going on in the late 1940s and early '50s in whatever far off land this was where Friendly and his gargantuan brood lived.  The one thing that badgered me, though, all the way through my childhood, adolescence and straight into adulthood, was: Why was the rooster kept in a burlap bag, hanging on the wall?  

The fifteen-minute program, aired commercial free, twice between ten o'clock in the morning and half past ten.  At 10:30am, was Mr. Dressup.  A former understudy to Mr. Rogers, Ernie Coombs had moved to Canada, eventually creating the longest running (29 years) children's program "Mr. Dressup".  Four thousand episodes which would eventually bridge the gap between "Friendly Giant" and "Sesame Street".  I never much cared for the show, myself, but we only had two networks to choose from and CTV never aired kids's shows, so "Mr. Dressup", it was.  Now, if you thought I questioned a lot of stuff about "The Friendly Giant", well I found "Mr. Dressup" was really f*cked up.

Mr. Dressup was a man who was in his forties who lived alone, but hung out with Casey, a redheaded child, who was NOT his son, nor related to him in ANY way, who lived in a tree house with his dog, Finnegan, for a number of years.  (Both Casey & Finnegan, were puppets, so some suspension of belief is supported).  Mr. Dressup entertained viewers with arts and crafts and songs and even some plays, complete with costumes that mysteriously and magically would appear in his colourful chest that he fondly referred to as the Tickle Trunk.

Twenty-two years after the show's debut, Judith Lawrence, the puppeteer who worked both Casey and Finnegan, retired.  Rather than replacing Lawrence, the story was told that Casey, along with his dog, began going to school, thus explaining his absence.  A much more sinister and suspicious mind would believe that Dressup simply grew tired of his young playthings and disposed of the bodies in a ditch somewhere.  Although, upon closer inspection, the Tickle Trunk might have disclosed a few more secrets than just colourful costumes and props.

As for the whereabouts of the cast of "The Friendly Giant".  Gerome the Giraffe passed away, shortly after the shows final airing in 1985.  Though he possessed an amazing singing voice, the giraffe had a three pack-a-day smoking habit and died from complications due to throat and lung cancer.  Bob Homme, the actor who portrayed Friendly, passed away in 2000.  Rusty the Rooster survived them all, retiring to a small town outside Toronto, with his same-sex partner Calvin the Cowboy, before passing away in 2011 at the ripe old age of 56, which is quite old for a chicken.  Here's a picture of Rusty and his partner of more than forty years,   As you can see from the photo, Rusty was into rough sex and was the bottom in the relationship.

Babies Shooting Guns

I had an Atari 2600 when I was a kid.  Other kids poked fun at it's archaic technology, which failed considerably to the tech that their video game systems provided.  Ironically, as cheap and unfulfilling as the tech was then, it's greatly sought after today.  It's my belief, that there's a certain charm that accommodates the simplicity of the times.  An innocence that we've lost and are now in desperate search of.  The flash and speed of today's video games are awesome and heart-pounding, but sometimes it's nice to sit back for a relaxing game of Pong.  In simpler terms, going to the latest popular restaurant for an evening of gourmet dining is fantastic, but it's more enjoyable to settle down for some of grandma's apple pie and iced tea.

I had cap guns as a child.  I reveled in the smell of spent caps burning from the toy handgun after firing off a barrage of paper caps at imaginary foes.  Later on, I'd be gifted a plastic machine gun that you'd cock back the "firing mechanism" and it'd sound off a string of violent tones, like no other.  It even had a small red protruding mass at the end of the barrel to simulate fire.  It was a cool toy and I may even still have that kicking around somewhere in my basement, I think with my Star Wars figures.  Imagination was the key to fun playtime.

Today, it seems, imagination isn't enough.  Actually, when looked into deeper, I think kids who use an imagination are deemed defective, having some kind of mental deficiency that "professionals" need to aggressively address with mind-numbing medication.  I believe they've reassigned "imagination" as "Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD)"  Today, it seems that kids need more mental stimulation.  To be more hands on.  Case and point;  That poor nine year old girl last week who mistakenly shot her shooting instructor with an uzi.

Since then, there's been a nationwide debate on whether it's acceptable for a small child to be handling any kind of weaponry, let alone a freakin' uzi.  Gun freaks are standing firm that children need to learn how to use such weapons, insisting that the American Constitution decrees it so.  Being Canadian, I don't know exactly what all the Amendments decree or not, but given the advancement in the 227 years since it's inception, I'm sure some of the original amendments would be up for interpretation.  That being said, because I AM Canadian, chances are I have a greater handle on the subject than most Americans.  The Bill of Rights was enacted between 1787 and 1789, which was a completely different era.  The Second Amendment, the Right to Bear Arms, wasn't added until 1791 and at that time, everyone had single shot muskets.  I'm sure the Founding Fathers would be whistling a different tune today, if they came across the menagerie of mechanized destruction available to their citizens.  I'm sure they'd be busting out the Thesaurus and wording the amendment differently, so as not to be misconstrued by the borderline insane.  For sure, they wouldn't want today's mismanaged youth getting a hold of such weapons.

I've said it before and I will happily repeat this.  Unless there's a zombie apocalypse, there's really no need for ANY child to be picking up and firing off an assault weapon.  To do so, is completely insane.  We don't allow children to vote until the age of 18, because they're not educated enough to make an important decision like choosing the leader of the free world.  Children are not allowed to operate a motor vehicle until the age of 16, because it's believed their not coordinated enough to operate a sophisticated machine like a Buick or Toyota.  Yet, people believe a f*cking 9-year old girl should be intelligent and coordinated enough to proficiently operate an assault weapon..?  On Twitter this morning I came across a conversation between Anderson Cooper (@AC360) and Hollywood director, Judd Apatow (@JuddApatow), where the "This is 40" director argued that his "large for her age" six-year old shouldn't be discriminated against if she wishes to shoot a machine gun.  I hope he's only kidding, but if he's not, I hope his wife, Leslie Mann, slaps some sense into his head.

I know parents aren't in any hurry to have their kids grow up, and I believe that shooting real guns, will steal away their innocence, just as tragically as Father O'Brien's one-on-one tutoring sessions with little Billy after Sunday school.  As a kid, I liked the smell of freshly fired off paper cap gun strips.  So much so, that I would forgo the cap gun, spreading out the roll and using my dad's hammer to pop them off.  I doubt little Susie likes the air of GSR on her clothes after rattling out 50 rounds of 9mm shells.

As an adult, at my father's urging, I picked up a .22 rifle and shot a pigeon that was roosted in the old barn on the farm where I grew up.  I did not enjoy that experience, nor the guilt that I felt following it.  Another experience I had with a hand gun, was when I rung a door bell in Edmonton, Alberta.  The resident had been the victim of home invasion twice before and no longer took chances when a stranger rang his bell.  I was greeted with the largest barrel I've ever laid eyes on, pointed straight at me, aimed between my eyes.  The image to this day, still gives me debilitating shivers and nightmares.  Movies and video games have provided most of us with a fractured reality of what exactly these devices are and the reality of their destruction, completely disregarding the innocence that is lost in the process.

Given all the gun violence and school shootings in recent years, I can't wrap my head around the concept that "intelligent" people can't (or won't) support some kind of gun restriction or control to help regulate semi-automatic assault weapons.  It's inexplicable to me that their answer to gun violence is more guns.  And it blows my mind that they want their babies shooting right along side of them.

The Walking Dead is an amazing program.  I love every episode and never miss a single week, when it's on.  Have you noticed it takes place in the deep south?  I reckon it's because of the backward thinking of the rednecks.  Backward thinking like marrying your cousins and letting your pre-schoolers carry Mac-10 sub-machine guns in their backpacks. If there's a zombie outbreak in America, it's going to be a smorgasbord.  Nobody seems to be using their brains for much anyway.

Two hundred and twenty-seven years since the inception of the Bill of Rights...  How do we know the Founding Father's just wanted people to have the option to wear shirts without sleeves?  It's up for interpretation. 

BARNEY

Assault of any kind on a minor is a terrible thing.  In past blogs, you may remember my going off on a tangent, exclaiming my tremendous disgust for crimes against children.  I'm even no stranger to assaults, having been on the receiving end of several beatings as a child.  In fact, today marks the anniversary of getting my nose broken when I was sixteen years old, just three days prior to my seventeenth birthday.  I wouldn't wish that act on anyone.  Pain and discomfort aside, the mental anguish that is closely associated with such an assault, can damage you for years to follow.  That was a different time and different circumstances, and despite some doubts from some family members, I've forgiven my father for that incident.  I recognize that it was the alcohol, NOT him, that escalated the situation from what it could and should have been.

So perhaps this is what fuels my disgust for crimes against children.  I don't know.  I can't really say for sure.  However, that withstanding, I can't help but think that it would've be pretty frickin' funny to witness Barney the Purple Dinosaur losing it and gobbling up the menagerie of children collected at his feet during his daily children's television show.  Dinosaurs ARE carnivores, after all.

I love you. You love me.
You taste good in my purple belly...