Television is a drug. We come home, tune in, turn on and
drop off. We are too dependent on the bright-flashy images to develop thoughts
or ideas of our own. So we accept the pre-fab, FCC-approved TV life. Along with
guiding our mores toward the "norm" and our purchases toward the
correct brand of underarm protection, this drug of docility perpetuates
societal status quoism.
Wednesday, April 24, 1991
TV is bad (1991 unfinished mini-rant)
Hi, I'm Andrew, AKA Hoodyup the Evil Caregiver, and I approved this blog post. I may not have been in my right mind at the time, but what's done is done. I stand by my sins. Eppur si muove.
I started this blog as a way to vent my frustrations with life, the universe and everything (not the book by Douglas Adams; that was quite good, actually).
My seemingly charmed life took a turn in 2004 when my wife Sharon was diagnosed with MS. This blog documents the fallout and revisits the past, as well as chronicling my dreams and rants throughout the years.
Be warned - explicit language and content that runs the gamut can be found in these posts, which describe personal events, both real and those dreamed up by my overactive nocturnal psyche.
Also, I use real names whenever possible, so if you see a post with your name on it, it probably refers to you. Unless, of course, you don't know me, in which case it is purely coincidental.
Enjoy your visit. Comment, if you so desire, or lurk privately. This blog can be your guilty pleasure (or displeasure).
Thursday, April 11, 1991
Little Shy Horses (91)
Little Shy Horses
Step so gingerly.
They don't strut their stuff like other horses do.
Their nostrils never flair.
Snorting's not their style
But they're just waiting for their chance to be wild.
They unpretentiously let their mane fall to one side as
They quietly drink, first making sure they are completely
unobserved.
They yearn to frolic, to scrape and scuff the earth, to run
Like thunder across the open plain.
But the gate, which will remain forever shut, keep
Shy little horses, imprisoned behind longing, misty
Shy Little Eyes.
Hi, I'm Andrew, AKA Hoodyup the Evil Caregiver, and I approved this blog post. I may not have been in my right mind at the time, but what's done is done. I stand by my sins. Eppur si muove.
I started this blog as a way to vent my frustrations with life, the universe and everything (not the book by Douglas Adams; that was quite good, actually).
My seemingly charmed life took a turn in 2004 when my wife Sharon was diagnosed with MS. This blog documents the fallout and revisits the past, as well as chronicling my dreams and rants throughout the years.
Be warned - explicit language and content that runs the gamut can be found in these posts, which describe personal events, both real and those dreamed up by my overactive nocturnal psyche.
Also, I use real names whenever possible, so if you see a post with your name on it, it probably refers to you. Unless, of course, you don't know me, in which case it is purely coincidental.
Enjoy your visit. Comment, if you so desire, or lurk privately. This blog can be your guilty pleasure (or displeasure).
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