Strange Times
Look at me, posting because I want to not because I have to.
Angus got his Scholastic book order today. I recently read Nan's rant about Scholastic books and had yet another 'wow, sometimes I am wholly uncritical and sheep-like in my ability to just do stuff without examining its underlying potential for evil' moment. Gee whiz, man, it seems so innocent! They bring home flyers with wonderful beautiful precious BOOKS in them and I wrote a check which, come on, that's not like real money, that's like play money, and then I forget about it and wonderful beautiful precious BOOKS appear. Clearly I will have to spend some time examining the Scholastic ideology because I'm coming off a rough month and I've been migrainey that past couple of days and I'm still unclear on the exact nature of the evilness, but I'm willing to learn. But this is not about that. This is about the books I ordered before the evil was revealed in all its leering drooling evilness, and I'm not giving them back. Ignorance of the law may be no excuse but ignorance of evil is...wait...oh leave me alone, the voices told me to, you can't make me, I have hemmorhoids.
So I bought Eve the Usborne Book of Famous Paintings. She likes to
draw, she seems interested in art, it called out to me. I gave it to her after school. After supper and her bath and Hannah Montana, I was wrapping a few presents and I saw her on the couch reading something. I walked over and she was reading it! The book I got for her to read about art! The same day we got it!
WTF?
Doesn't she know how we do things around here? I buy something because it's educational and topical and will surely give us some lovely moments of learning and sharing and discovery and revelation. Then the kid ignores it and plays video games and watches tv and loses it under a pile of crap and only reads it when I demand that they sit down and read it and have a lovely educational revelatory moment goddammit. They don't try to read it the same day and say "oh, Mrs. Goodsell showed me this Claude Monet (perfectly pronounced) painting", and "is this pronounced Van Eek?" and "WHAT? She's not really pregnant?! That's a terrible skirt then!"
Oh, now Angus has wandered over and they're reading it together. I am sore afraid, friends, sore afraid.
Angus got his Scholastic book order today. I recently read Nan's rant about Scholastic books and had yet another 'wow, sometimes I am wholly uncritical and sheep-like in my ability to just do stuff without examining its underlying potential for evil' moment. Gee whiz, man, it seems so innocent! They bring home flyers with wonderful beautiful precious BOOKS in them and I wrote a check which, come on, that's not like real money, that's like play money, and then I forget about it and wonderful beautiful precious BOOKS appear. Clearly I will have to spend some time examining the Scholastic ideology because I'm coming off a rough month and I've been migrainey that past couple of days and I'm still unclear on the exact nature of the evilness, but I'm willing to learn. But this is not about that. This is about the books I ordered before the evil was revealed in all its leering drooling evilness, and I'm not giving them back. Ignorance of the law may be no excuse but ignorance of evil is...wait...oh leave me alone, the voices told me to, you can't make me, I have hemmorhoids.
So I bought Eve the Usborne Book of Famous Paintings. She likes to
draw, she seems interested in art, it called out to me. I gave it to her after school. After supper and her bath and Hannah Montana, I was wrapping a few presents and I saw her on the couch reading something. I walked over and she was reading it! The book I got for her to read about art! The same day we got it!
WTF?
Doesn't she know how we do things around here? I buy something because it's educational and topical and will surely give us some lovely moments of learning and sharing and discovery and revelation. Then the kid ignores it and plays video games and watches tv and loses it under a pile of crap and only reads it when I demand that they sit down and read it and have a lovely educational revelatory moment goddammit. They don't try to read it the same day and say "oh, Mrs. Goodsell showed me this Claude Monet (perfectly pronounced) painting", and "is this pronounced Van Eek?" and "WHAT? She's not really pregnant?! That's a terrible skirt then!"
Oh, now Angus has wandered over and they're reading it together. I am sore afraid, friends, sore afraid.
Comments
So I don't think you have anything to apologize for, if you like Scholastic. I'm not a fan, but I'm also not a fan of corn. You may like corn, and there's nothing wrong with that. Unless you try to MAKE me eat corn, and then we'll have words. Because, ew.
I haven't ordered from Scholastic in almost 10 years. The first time I ordered from them, they took 4 months to cash my cheque. That upset and screwed with my mind everytime I went to the bank and thought I still had $25 in the bank only to realize fricken Scholastic was playing mind games with me!
i'm reminded of this great board book that i bought for my niece when she was wee. there were two paintings for each season, and the paintings were puzzles. i wish i remembered where i got it, i'd love to get it for teh jb.
Also? "She's not really pregnant? That's a terrible skirt" is hilarious!
I remember the scholastic days. Do they still have the order form on that flimsy paper brochure with the tiny writing that you are trying to make out and remember what they wanted while you are searching for scissors to cut it out and writing a check, 3 minutes before you have to leave for school because it's the last day to get the order in?