Los Angeles, California, USA
October 22
Charming young lady, with sharp tongue and vocabulary of a seasoned longshoreman, who carries in her handbag worn and tattered membership cards to the Mayflower Society and Daughters of the American Revolution, for which her dues are in arrears.


Iamsurly's Links

NOVEMBER 18, 2012 1:02PM

Stop Stealing My Youth

Rate: 6 Flag

Yeah. I know you're thinking "We already heard about Hostess, Surly." Bully for you. I'm not the town crier. I'm not here to tell you that Hostess is going bankrupt, or to debate whether or not the Twinkie is really dead. Sure, sure. Someone will probably buy it, and I will be able to take a box of Ding Dongs with me to my grave. What I'm here to bitch about is the looming death of yet another piece of my youth.

Dead celebrities are a natural byproduct of aging. The friends and faces I grew up with have been dying for years. We get accustomed to grieving these small losses as we get older. In the 80's I took to my bed for 2 days when Ricky Nelson died. We all grieved in the 90's when Samantha and the Darrens all died. This year alone we've lost 2 Sweathogs, Sheriff Andy, George Jefferson, the best looking Monkey, and Ernest Damn Borgnine. It's not just the loss of life that's sad, it's the loss of a small piece of our collective cultural experience. Davy Jones will not be taking any of us to prom, ever.

While they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, when it comes to imitating some of the cornerstones of my youth to make them palatable for today's youth, I find it to be a sincere slap in the face. Take for example the horrible remake of Bewitched with that shrew Nicole Kidman. What in Agnes Moorehead's name were they thinking? Or Footloose? As someone who can claim to be at Kevin Bacon Factor 1 I was horrified when they tried to remake this iconic film. Why can't you people teach your children an appreciation for classic television and film? Why must you be creating the target market for remakes? Everyone of these abominations takes a little piece of my soul.

Now y'all know I'm all about evolution. Darwin is totally my boy. I get that things must change as time goes by, and that just like the pinky toe, some things may evolve right out of existence. Sometimes we adapt, like when Hasbro redesigned the Easy Bake Oven when the feds banned the incandescent light bulb. Well played. Future generations of Surly Homemakers will not be cheated out of their first baking lesson. Of course, not everything can be adapted or saved. Betamax anyone? Heck, the VCR for that matter. (Although this is news to Dave and his collection of taped TV shows from the 90s. FML.) Digital cameras have turned film cameras into a novelty. Homemade boudoir shots and ransom photos are rarely taken with Polaroids anymore. Ah how I long for the days when you had to wait 5 minutes to see that you really don't look sexy in that pose.

Sure. I'm a nostalgic kinda girl. My collection of vintage recipe cards is a dead giveaway. I like to see the past preserved and revered for what it was. I'm not so naive as to think that things will always remain the same. Change is, of course, inevitable. But goddamnit, you can't take my Twinkies before I've had a chance to make Pigs in a Twinkie!


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PIGs in a Twinkie?

Dang, you writers and your subtle meanings and symbolism. I wish I could keep up.
As they say, life in nasty, brutish and short.

And they are trying to make it not short enough!
'Scuse me, I've now gotta go get some brain bleach so I can forget I ever read that recipe. Up your nose with a rubber hose for posting the link, Horshack.

In the words of the immortal JK Brady -- GACK! Or should that be errrrp. I forget.
Saint's preserve us, Pigs in a Twinkie. That's almost worth tracking down a box to send you. And if someone does buy Hostess, please let it be Bimbo. I really want to buy Bimbo Ho-hos.