Before I get into this, I gotta get something off my décolletage. It’s been so long since I’ve blogged, I damn near forgot my log-in and password. So there. I have duly given myself a ration of shit and guilt and I’m now free to move about the blogosphere with abandon.
The other day I read an article about how Barney the giant purple dinosaur was giving kids the wrong ideas about T. Rex.
Just ponder that for a bit while I hum a show tune.
Seems that when scientists asked college students and children to draw a T. Rex, most gave it an upright posture as opposed to a more bent over, horizontal position. This is the result of a couple of brainiacs who decided to conduct this meaningful experiment after seeing a box of frozen chicken nuggets in the shape of a T. Rex at a local grocery store. I don’t know about you, but I steer clear of processed food for fear it will taint my knowledge of all things Jurassic.
A good thing since it appears popular culture has dulled the science knowledge of our children and youth through the depiction of Mr. T as an upright-walking, friendly purple character who sings annoying songs and has a grill full of lbright white dentures.
News flash! All those dino shapes on your macaroni and jammies are in-co-rrect, people. That’s right. T.Rex was not friendly, not purple and would just as soon rip you limb from limb than suffer through even a partial verse of Do Your Ears Hang Low.
Be that as it may, I firmly believe this T. Rex business is the exception to the rule of how fictional characters from pop culture influence our perception of reality. Let’s take Foghorn Leghorn, for example…a fair and accurate depiction of a rooster in all its cocksure glory, if you ask me. He speaks with the confidence one would expect from a scrappy yard bird yet possesses the gritty sophistication and vernacular of a self-assured street poet. Take these two sparkling gems, both vintage chicken hawk:
“Smart boy, got a mind like a steel trap – full of mice” and “That dog, I say that dog’s strictly GI – gibberin idiot that is.”
Fucking poetry, man!
He surely must have been referring to Wile E. Coyote, the poor unfortunate schmuck. When will he ever learn that riding a homemade rocket is a really, really bad idea?
What a dumb ass.