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I'm poking at Texas, because I love it . Well, I love some Texans, anyway. And a lot of Texas music.
On another topic, I've taken to DVR-ing Doogie Howser. This is also dispiriting because, god, 1991 was a long fucking time ago and this makes me feel super super old. It's fun to watch Doogie Howser because that Neil Patrick Harris has always been a delight and also because the blue screen computer he pecks out the lesson of the week on is a hoot.
When I watch it, I like to remember the fresh-faced young lass I was when that show was on. The 21 year old me would never have imagined the Internet and a black president and that Neil Patrick Harris would be gay and that this fact would be no big deal and also entirely incidental to his abiding delightfulness. There's so much really great stuff about this time vs. that time. On the other hand, the 21 year old me would also never have imagined this jiggly belly and a couch that smells like pee and that bringing an assault weapon into a JC Penny would be viewed as trenchant political commentary by a group wielding really disproportionate political power (and by that I mean ANY political power held by people that stupid is too much).
Speaking of which: Wayne LaPierre just today told his addlepated devotees that they need assault weapons because there will be hurricanes and after them people will loot (fact: only black people loot. White people gather supplies. You knew that right? I learned it on CNN). Wayne LaPierre says we need big guns so we can shoot people before they take our shit. Because killing people is hella better than not having as much shit as you used to.
I never thought that watching Doogie Howser would cause so much mental strife, such anguished, pitched battle between optimism and pessimism. At least those fucking horrible jeans we wore in 1991 will never come back in fashion. Right? Oh, who am I kidding, of course they will. I wore the same pair of jeans to work today that I wore in 1983. Only much larger.
I look to the future and despair.
On the other hand, it is kind of nice that I live in a world where if I want a picture of Neil Patrick Harris circa 1991, I can get one in seconds. There is something to be said for that...