Selections from the Trash Heap

It is truly amazing what you can recall with a tiny bit of prompting.

My dad sent me a link to an article on Salon about the demise of the 3-D View-Master. I, my mom, and my dad all had one when we were kids. My dad's was extra special because it came with a record to play as you ka-chunked your way around the View-Master disk. Fancy. I started thinking back to what stories I had for my View-Master. I seem to remember a Chip n Dale adventure, and maybe something with The Borrowers. But memory is a fickle thing and I could be totally wrong.

Thoughts of the Disney chipmunks led me to this gem: the theme song for Duck Tales. Yeah, that's right. The theme song for a show about Unca Scrooge, Huey, Dewey, and Louie. I watched that religiously everyday after school. That, and Rescue Rangers and Darkwing Duck. What? I like cartoons.

This thing that horrifies me is how much of the damn theme song I can remember.

"Life is like a hurricane,
Here in Duckburg.
Race cars, lasers (?), aeroplanes
It's a duck blur.
Might solve a mystery
Or rewrite history
Duck Tales! Woo-oo!"

AHHHHHHHH! Or how 'bout this one?

"They're tiny, they're toony
they're all a little looney
And in this cartoon-y
we're invading your TV!"

Or:

"It's time for Animaniacs!
And we're zany to the max!
So just sit back and relax
You'll laugh 'til you collapse!"

Grrrr.

Ironically enough, I have no recollection of the Rescue Rangers theme.

What I Want to be When I Grow Up

All kids have hopes and dreams. Some kids want to be firefighters, doctors, vets, astronauts, writers, chefs, housewives, video game designers, chemists, or bums. Other kids, and I think these are the smart ones, haven't a bloody clue what they want to be when they grow up. What's "grown up" anyway? Legally speaking, I am adult. I'm old enough to drink, smoke, vote, and rent a car. I have a full-time job, bills, a car, and an apartment. I remember to regularly feed my cats and I actually enjoy vacuuming. Does this mean I'm a grown-up? Eh, maybe. Maybe I just subscribe to the only-as-old-as-you-feel school of thought. Maybe I don't care if people see me as an adult.

While I know what I want to do with my life, it isn't what I wanted to be when I grew up. OK, I'll tell you. I wanted to be a cartoon. That's right, I idolized Bugs, Daffy, Marvin the Martian, and Pepe Le Pew. I wanted to hang out with Roger Rabbit and swim in Scrooge McDuck's gigantic vault of coins. I thought cartoon food would taste excellent and I would never have to deal with fat or gristle. Plus, I could take a shotgun blast to the beak and still manage to declare war.

No, I wasn't a stupid kid. I knew that people didn't spontaneously morph into animated creatures, frolicking through a neon green meadow. I now know that life can sometimes be gray and dreary and painful. I also know that life can be bright and amazing and scary wonderful. So I tuck away my dreams of pen and ink and apply myself to the task of being a grown-up - which really isn't all bad.