Month: September 2014

Babies and grands…

Awesome. This week we met our grandchild. The first one. A part of me says I’m not old enough to have grandchildren (I definitely am), another part says, wow, finally.

As usual most friends already have grands. And they say they love them. Love getting them. Love having them. Love giving them back.

We, the all purpose universal we, not the royal we, are always ready to dispense advice based on our own experience. I get that. Guilty as charged, I am a great one for sharing. I’d like to say I do it in parable form, but still. And since we announced the inevitability of arrival, we have been told how great this is, how wonderful to be a grand parent. The wonders, apparently are unceasing.

I agree. The wonders if having a child is unceasing. This life that you created is so small, so helpless, so present, the baby comes out screaming, hopefully healthy, with all the parts required.

And, yes, I’d do it all over again. Give the option would mean the unthinkable for my daughter and her husband which is horrific and unthinkable, I’d take this grand, with all the jazzy stuff they have these days. Yes, it would be hard, but it wasn’t easy when we had our own. The up early, go all day, come home exhausted, the day care, the schools, the relationship building. Life.

A part of me misses that. Life. It was happening all around us. Now we get to be support staff, we get to watch our daughter and husband, we get to be there for the next life.

It is an awe-some thing!

Kill him off…

Oh, please, just let him die.

Let the Doctor get the TARDIS, sans a companion, into some unimaginable confluence of positive and negative energy, or, let there be some huge mashup of time and space, or, take him back to the beginning of the universe [because you’ve already done the end of it] or plop him in the middle and have there be no way out.

And let it be the end! Kill him off. Let him die. Please.

I know there are rants about the fans, their slavish devotion to quoting the Doctor in any real life situation. Or, their need to constantly proclaim that he is the BEST character in fifty years. Google search whovians are stupid and you’ll be amazed at what you get. They can rant all they want, either as fans or as non-fans, that’s not my point.

Peter Capaldi do a good job in the role, such as it is, god <small g, of course> help him! Just as I’m sure that the fans will go gonzo over him, such as they are, and there is no god, <capital or small g> that can help them. But that’s just the point. The fans, on both sides of the telly screen are daft, cockeyed, hair brained.

Watching the Before debut of the twelfth, or really the thirteenth, if you count John Hurt, I realized what truly annoyed me was the obsession with detail of the particulars of the Doctors’ lives by those who are writing the show. To me, that’s the problem. The writers [huge fans themselves] are abusing the Doctor’s legacy. It is with them that I am most put out. I mean, come on, could they not come up with something that was new, [I’m sure 90% of the fans watched this episode and knew immediately that they were on the inside. Posh!] something that was not was a recast of the Doctor #10 or #11 [sigh, again with the counting thing and poor John] adventure on the Madam de Pompadour?   Did Doctor #12 or #13, depending on whether or not you want to count old John. have to refer back to the original set and the round things on the wall of the TARDIS?

When I first started to watch it, yes it was the early/mid seventies, it was hokey and the special effects were considerably less than amazing, and I loved it. The quirkiness, the élan of the Doctor, on a channel not often watched, was exciting and different. Who every heard of someone regenerating, not reincarnating, not being immortal, but re-generating. Who ever would have thought?

I have a mug, and the TARDIS disappears when hot water is poured into it, probably dates back to the late seventies. I bought it at a fund raiser for the PBS station in LA. My enchantment and delight with Dr. Who started before that time. I have the books too!

Wait. I don’t need to qualify. Whether I have watched it for a short time or a long time, I am here to simply state, I am done with the Doctor. Yes, that’s it, he’s off my DVR, I won’t Goggle the episodes. Done. No recording and watching later. Finito!  Why? Because once you break that fourth wall, once you have the character in on the joke [probably THE most annoying part], once you keep a character going simply because, because he’s fifty years old [don’t be pushy, the character is not fifty, but the show is], because you think you can write cool stuff and actors can act cool, well, then, that’s when you know you’ve let him live too long.

Don’t even get me started on the companions. Sheez!  Really? The Impossible Girl? Leave it, just leave it.

And, please stop calling them Whovians. Sounds like something out of Dr. Seuss!