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Three disappointments
It’s been a week filled with disappointments, so the least I can do is to share them with you. They came in the form of Thomas the Tank Engine, dental floss and Hank Williams.
Thomas the Tank Engine first. I grew up in England during the last years of the steamtrain era. My grandparents lived right accross the street from railway tracks. When I heard a train coming, I would, like any other eight-yearold boy of the time, rush out to exchange waves with the crew. When there was no train to wave at, I would eagerly browse the books of the Rev. W.H. Awdry—the Railway Series, featuring Thomas the Tank Engine, Henry the Green Engine, Gordon the Big Engine and so on. As an adult, I was excited when the Thomas & Friends animated series came to television—especially as the initial episodes were narrated by my favourite Beatle, Ringo Starr. Gradually, Thomas the Tank Engine wooden trains and other paraphernalia have become ubiquitous. Just the other day, hotels in New York and London announced new Thomas-themed rooms (for children, of course).
But, alack and alas, also just the other day, the Toronto-based company that produces Thomas & Friends locked out its 500 employees. Apparently, its creditors lost confidence it could manage to produce Thomas and his friends at the same time as a “major animated movie” called Blazing Samurai. (Why does no one put out minor motion pictures?). Hopefully, the Thomas phenomenon is bigger than its defunct current creator and will survive in some form or other, free from samurai or creditor attacks, blazing or otherwise.
On to dental flossing. Flossing has been discredited. The U.S. government was unable to provide scientific evidence to support its position that flossing is one element of a combined approach to effective dental care, so the statement was withdrawn. At the same time, the Associated Press released a report that examined 25 studies looking at flossing and brushing as opposed to brushing alone, and found that evidence supporting flossing was weak or unreliable and carried a moderate to large potential for bias.
Flossing is one of those activites that has no secondary benefit. Compare it to going for a walk. Even if the experts are wrong and the exercise does you no good, at least you’re out getting some fresh air (and, if you’re walking beside Loyalist Parkway, exhaust fumes, which may also conceivably be pronounced good for you some day). But with dental floss, you’re just standing in front of your bathroom mirror, contorting your face while you pull string through the gaps between your molars. Am I not entitled to feel a tad indignant that I have spent the best years of my life perfecting a skill that has no utility? I could have spent the time training to be an Olympic shotputter. Dentists have some ‘splaining to do.
That takes us to Hank Williams. I love classic country music—and Williams is the undisputed king of classic country. I asked the Wellington Library staff (who, until now, have welcomed suggestions) if they would show the recent Williams biopic, I Saw the Light, on monthly movie night. I figured that following the lead of movies like those about Johnny Cash, Ray Charles and James Brown, the music would justify the cost of the free ticket even if the film wasn’t all that interesting. Well, the music was good and the lead actor looked terrific in an embroidered white suit and hat. But frankly, the movie was terrible. Williams was portrayed (okay, let’s even say he was accurately portrayed) as a two-timing drunkard, but the viewer was given absolutely no insight into what drove him to create his avalanche of still-popular hits. Even as a film about a two-timing drunkard, it was well-nigh impossible to follow. I just managed to refrain from cheering when the “plot” finally reached that fateful New Year’s Day of 1953, knowing the film would soon end. And as the credits rolled, I actually felt a twinge of sympathy for all the people who had to work on the movie and have their names indelibly associated with it: they could have been out having a riotous time as insurance claims adjusters or taxidermists.
I almost offered cash compensation to the other few people who had made the voluntary decision to watch it. And in case any of you are reading this column, note that I said “almost” and used the past tense. You were free to storm out. I couldn’t, because it was me who had asked for it and etiquette demanded I stay to the end and be miserable.
Three disappointments. But I’ll have you know I have made it through them and come out a better man for it. Of course, if some serious tragedy were to happen—say the Tall Poppy closing down—I don’t know how I’d cope.
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