precious the precocious kitten! #2

Just because it's Caturday!

precious the precocious kitten! #1

i write about shoes in this one. it's my best since the one where i wrote about deleting something on my computer that one time.

In the past, presently, and for the next few weeks at least (just wanted to make sure I've got all my time-bases covered), I've had to dress professionally for my job, which is very professional. This includes wearing a well-pressed pair of dress pants, a rotating array of smart sweaters, and some Italian leather dress shoes that I picked up from Salvation Army for ten bucks. Also I have to shower a few times a week and put on deodorant and whathaveyou, but never mind that.

 

I don't know if you have the same experience with expensive professional-wear that I do, working at a super-professional job and all, but walking in dress shoes is tricky business. It's not like working in food service and wearing the ubiquitous black Shoes For Crews that everyone's had to wear. No, wearing those things is like swimming in the kiddie pool that's three feet deep with water wings and a lifeguard. The bottom of those shoes are designed like tire treads. You could literally wake up one day to find that the laws of physics have changed and friction no longer exists, and you'd still be able to throw your Shoes For Crews on and walk around like it's no big deal. Dress shoes aren't as forgiving. Dress shoes are more like diving right into the deep end of the pool when the lifeguard's on his lunch break, and then realizing that the entire pool is filled with sharks and hey, it's not really water! This pool is filled with blood and chum, and the sharks are in a feeding frenzy! I don't know how you'd confuse water with blood and chum, but you just did, and now you're swimming in it, jerk.

 

I slip a lot in these shoes is what I'm saying. Is it mildly embarrassing? A little. Is it worth it for the air of sophistication that genuine Italian leather footwear brings me? You betcha.

 

Another potential downside of dress shoes is the inherent lack of sneakiness that they impart you with. Consider for a moment that people usually wear shoes called sneakers. What do we have to be sneaky about that we're all wearing these awesome ninja shoes for? Regardless of the answer, it's basically hard-wired into us to be sneaky when we're walking around now. That's why people hate it when they come in from outside when the ground is wet and every footstep is punctuated by an obnoxious squeak. They're thinking to themselves "oh shit, I'm announcing my presence to everyone in this building within earshot! How the fuck am I going to ninja my way into the food court at this mall now?" So when you make the transfer to dress shoes, you sound like you may as well be riding on horseback through the echoey halls of your workplace.

 

Now, maybe this is just me, but if I'm walking down a long hallway and I hear footsteps a good distance behind me, my first thought isn't that this person is an assassin sent to murder me. There's really no need to stop what I'm doing to turn around and very obviously check this person out, as if to say "I've seen your face now, fucker, and you've seen mine, and it's the face that will haunt you for the rest of your life." I mean, who does that? Do you know who does that? Every single person walking in front of me down a long hallway. I think sometimes that my clip-cloppy shoes must sound to them like the T-800's robotic walking as he tirelessly advances on them to murder them and wipe out whatever future children they might have who would someday hold the key to the human revolution. That must be exactly what I sound like.

 

We're switching to scrubs in a few weeks, if my sources are to be believed. Grey's Anatomy-branded scrubs, at that. My wife's taken to calling me McBeardy now. The switch to scrubs brings about the loss of perceived upper-class status. However, scrubs grant me the ability to wear sneakers to work again. And really, what are scrubs but ninja garb in a medical context? I'd say it's a net gain on my end.

blue's clues and steve's baggage.

There are aspects of parenting that didn't really become clear to me until I actually became a parent. For example, a popular passtime in the baby community is trying to kill yourself with everyday household objects. I don't know if they have some sort of point system or global scoreboard where they track each others progress in terms of creativity and success rate, but it's a big thing. Color me surprised. Also, everything looks delicious when you're a baby. You haven't had the years of experience that others have had when it comes to finding what you do and don't like, so whereas you or I, with our infinitely more mature palettes, may decide that we'd rather give the roasted chicken a try before the piece of wicker on the floor that broke off of the laundry basket, a baby wouldn't reach the same conclusion.

These are the kinds of things that you have to think about as a parent. It's a full-time job, you guys.

Things will change when it gets a little warmer outside, but as of right now, parenting involves a lot of sitting in the living room and playing with baby toys, making sure that Conrad isn't engaging in the aforementioned activities. Also involved is a lot of children's television; in particular, Blue's Clues.

We watch a lot of Blue's Clues; a fact that my Facebook friends will gladly attest to. Now, let me throw this out there: I think I'm a little more sophisticated than the target audience of Blue's Clues. Granted, that's debatable, but let's save that for another discussion. I think I'm picking up on things in the narrative that your average toddler may have missed in his or her relentless pursuit of Blue's titular clues. There's a lot of subtext in any given episode that can be read a number of different ways.

Let me set this up, for those of you who are unfamiliar with Blue's Clues: it's a show about a guy named Steve who lives in a house with a bunch of talking appliances, spices, and animals. If you've ever seen the video for George Harrison's "Got My Mind Set On You", it's kinda like that, but in a cartoon house with a bigger chair. Every episode, Steve's dog Blue has something that she wants to communicate to Steve, but is unable to because she is somehow the only thing in the house that can't talk, so she basically plays Da Vinci Code with Steve by setting up clues all around the house so he can figure out what she wants. Steve finds the clues and solves the mystery (with a large amount of help from a group of children shouting just offscreen), and then thanks you for being so smart before passive-aggressively kicking you out of his house.

The game itself is pretty straight-forward and captures it's intended audience's attention, but I'm left wondering about other things. Who is Steve? Why does he live in this house all by himself? Why is he shown to be closer to the salt and pepper shakers in the kitchen than he is to his family, or even his neighbors?

I've got two theories going, both of which stem from a traumatic incident in Steve's childhood. Shit's about to get heavy, guys.

First, let's just state the obvious: Steve's obviously living in a fantasy world. This may be news to you, but the mailbox is not sentient and cannot speak, and the same goes for the rest of the things in Steve's house. Steve is a lonely man, and he fills his social void with imaginary friends, much like how Will Smith did in I Am Legend (there are actually a lot of comparisons to be made to that piece of post-apocalyptic fiction, but I will leave that for you to think about. I'm not made of insight here, people). Steve also obviously shares this fantasy world with his brother Joe, as shown starting near the end of season four. What shared experience caused these brothers to create a fantasy world in which they could escape the horrors of everyday life?

I think Steve and Joe's parents were killed unexpectedly during the holidays when they were both small children. There has been once flashback in the show to Steve and Joe's childhood (S5E30: "Blue's First Holiday"), and their parents were nowhere to be found. This episode can be seen as sort of a genesis of their shared fantasy world, as all of their imaginary friends are shown to be infants. All, that is, except for Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper, who of course are meant to represent Steve and Joe's parents. They cook and clean the house, and later go on to have a family of their own, with Paprika (the older sibling) representing Steve and Cinnamon (the younger) representing Joe. I think that watching Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper raise their own children is Steve's way of thinking about what his childhood would have been like has his parents not been taken from him at such a young age.

Keeping this in mind, there's two ways that the rest of the show can be read. Either Steve is an adult, still trapped in this fantasy world, tormented by the memory of his dead parents, or Steve is still a child, imagining himself as an adult in order to feel more capable of taking care of the house and his younger brother. When Steve leaves for "college" at the end of season four, leaving his brother Joe to take care of the house, is Steve really an adult leaving his fantasy world in pursuit of an adult life? Or is he a selfish child, leaving Joe in charge once he is old enough, and escaping this unwanted burden? It's left up to the viewer to reach his or her own conclusions.

All sorts of small details jump out at you once you've made all of the connections. For instance, in the episode "Blue's Big Car Trip" (S5E25), Joe and Blue are shown to be going on a trip, playing Blue's Clues on the way to figure out where they're going. Both are sitting in the backseat. The front car seat is shown to be the actual driver of the vehicle, so the vehicle is, in essence, driving itself. Knowing this to be impossible, you're left to wonder who the actual driver of the car is. Is it a social worker, getting Joe out of the house? Is it an unnamed family member? Regardless of the driver's true identity, the fact that the car seat is shown to be the driver (read: empty) is very telling. Joe is actively blanking this person out of his mind, indicating an intense dislike or disinterest in who they are or what they represent. Draw your own conclusions.

Blue's Clues is presented as a harmless children's show, but I believe that all of the subtle subtext present brings it up to par with The Wire or M*A*S*H* as one of the greatest shows of our time. The fact that, on the surface, the show holds your hand and treats you like a child, but is actually really incredibly deep and challenging underneath all of the superficiality, speaks volumes of the respect that the writers treat their viewer with. Really, it's unmatched by any show in the history of television.*

*not really. god help me, i get so bored watching marathon sessions of kid's shows.