TV Dinner (Table Scraps)

This is Angry Tablecloth, and welcome to a new segment called Table Scraps. This is where I share ideas that for one reason or another were deleted from other posts, and not just because they were crap. I truly believe there are at least a couple really good paragraphs in here, and I think you will eventually agree.

Not to boast, but I am a male feminist, and I am on an important mission. I am here to get the word out on a great injustice that has been taking place, and can no longer be tolerated. I am speaking about the maltreatment of Birdie, the Early Bird. If you are not familiar with the name, that is tragically of little surprise. Birdie is the McDonald’s breakfast mascot, first introduced to us in the 1980’s. For far too long she has been kept in the shadows, while Ronald, Hamburglar, and Grimace steal her share of the spotlight. Mayor McCheese, and even the Fry Guys are more prominent figures. The McNugget Buddies were comprised of both male and female characters, but they would not have had toys made in their likenesses if they were exclusively female, and they are still not even a part of the Happy Meal Gang. This is not the fault of Birdie. She was cast as the token female character. They did not even put any thought into her name. Birdie? Really? That’s the best they could do? The only name worse was Big Mac Tonight, and he was obviously a shameless marketing tool. Birdie has depth, and character, and wants, and needs! So what do you say? Let’s get an internet campaign and petition going! This is a cause that has gone ignored for far too long! Let Birdie fly! Let Birdie fly!

Let a cat groom your hair for more than a minute, and it becomes clear they are not doing it for the taste of dandruff. Glance in the mirror, and you will see the hair on your (I hope) head is being shifted and parted in a deliberate direction, because we apparently look like crap in a cat’s smug eyes. But this got me thinking about a new and exciting business venture! That’s right, cat salons, featuring cat stylists! There might be one human present to supervise, but that’s it. It’ll be huge, in some part of Japan, at least! Granted, my knowledge of Japanese culture comes from what TV has exposed me to, but I’m sure it’s pretty accurate. I’m pretty sure Japan is mostly populated by teenagers, who never work, but live on their own, and attend schools that run like independent nations, possessing the military technology and destined wunderkind necessary to rule the world, if so desired. The rest of the population is composed of infantile business men with mirrors on their shoes, and their incomparably optimistic, unhealthily supportive wives/servants/possible cyborgs. There is also a bad tentacle infestation, so get inoculated before visiting.

I used to think of Canada as almost being a second rate America when I was a little kid, because all of my favorite TV shows (most shows) were American. As an adult, I now enjoy clean air, gasoline free water, and blast-free mountain tops, and so living here is not so bad, after all. Unfortunately, people often have a tendency to follow the most popular trends seen on television, and those trends threaten the things I’ve grown to appreciate – the things that make me proud to be Canadian. Just when you thought this entire thing was going to be a bunch of stupid jokes, I get all political, and shit.

We have been programmed into a system of re-runs, tuning in and out of life every other second of the day, never truly focusing on what is right in front of us. The thought of changing the channel becomes a terrifying proposition, especially when an updated version of what has been experienced for nine seasons is promised. Make every moment a high light, or continue life as part of the machine, until younger demographics make you largely irrelevant. Never fear, you can gently slip into senility, watching those old classics from yesteryear, somewhere on that dial, until the inexorable day your funeral is caught on tape, and never watched. This was intended to be a joke of some sort. Does it say something about me that I did not mean for this to get dark, and that is simply where my mind went?

“The revolution will not be televised,” but it will have a soundtrack.

Television is the new religion

Sitting in a Lazy Boy with the remote in hand

Worshiping a false God manufactured by man

As according to the plan

The senses ready to receive the daily sermon

To ease the burdens, by closing the curtains

On a truth that can hurt a follower’s eyes

Like they were being cleansed in natural light

That why I fight

That’s why I hang out with trees, and shit

I love the look of sand, and the smell of tar pits

And pretty-pretty flowers

And kitty-kitty cats

And rainy day showers

What do you know about that?

What you know about standing in the rain

Naked like nature intended

I wash myself with clean mud, that’s why it was invented

Maybe I shouldn’t have ingested

Those wild berries in the forest

Now here comes the chorus!

There’s no chorus… and there never will be.

I had a lot more content than I thought, so I’ll have to split this post in two. At least I got all of the best stuff out there already… I probably should not be telling you that.


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