Where Did All The Good Cartoons Go?

::Earth! Fire! Wind! Water! Heart! Gooo planet!!
By your powers combined, I am Captain Planet!
(Sing) Captain Planet, he's the hero...
Gonna take pollution down to zero...

Whatever happened to all the good cartoons??

I mean the cartoons that were witty and interesting and funny, but still wholesome and educational. Where did all the 'smart' cartoons go??

I remember when my own disenchantment with Toon-Land began. It was the dawn of the Cow-And-Chicken era. Everybody was going crazy over Johnny Bravo and Dexter's Laboratory and Powerpuff Girls, but I was shocked and disgusted! Why would anybody ever allow such rubbish to permeate their television screens? And how could they possibly replace a brilliantly planned series like Jayce and the Wheel Warriors with something as nonsensical and trivial as Cow and Chicken?? It boggled my young mind.

Remember the original Power Rangers? Silver Hawk? Jayce & The Wheel Warriors? Zoids? Kissifur? Tale Spin? Yogi and Friends? Paw-Paw Bears? The Flintstones, the Jetsons?? Or remember the TLC/PBS-inspired educational stuff like Sesame Street (admit it, you liked Sesame Street when you were little!), Professor Iris, Bookmice, Zoobalizoo, The Puzzle Place, Reading Rainbow, Between the Lions, Magic Schoolbus and whatever great cartoons you used to watch in your time??

I remember me and my siblings fighting over who should be which planeteer in Captain Planet, using mommy's broom to imitate Thunder Cats (thunder, thunder, thunder, thunder cats!!), and using her clean sheets to pretend we had powers like the kids in Dungeons and Dragons (now there was a real cartoon!). Today? The only good stuff I see are animes and some Disney/Nick stuff.

What happened to all the good, wholesome programs? When did we move from pure, unadulterated fun to nothing but nonsense and stupidity? Is this some wholesale conspiracy to dumb down our kids??

I would never let my kid watch today's nonsense! I'd rather buy Sesame Street reruns and force-feed my kid home-made episodes of Reading Rainbow.

*SMH* I don' know when or where the decision was taken to start systematically lessening the intelligence requirements for cartoon production, but it pains my heart to see the rubbish we pass off as entertainment for kids nowadays... *sigh*

Can anybody tell me: where did all the good cartoons go??

Randomosity: Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, Life Goes On...

If you did tell me I would stay away from blogger for this long, I would say you lie!

Good News:
- I finished all my assignments and I did all of them properly. What usually happens is that I concentrate so much on the first two or three big essays and presentations, that I completely neglect the others till the night before and then have to do this nasty, patch-up rush job... not this year!!!

-Boss lady was so impressed with my work that she offered me a more permanent(ish) deal, and my story comes out in the Gleaner tomorrow (update: it did!)...

-I'm employed, and I love(!!) my job...

-Mommy's here!!!

Bad News:
-I'm still in school =D

-I haven't been home to see mommy yet

-Three of my friends died in a car crash that totally incinerated their bodies in Oracabessa. I've never been hit by that many deaths so close to me at once... totally shook up, can't believe it... just can't believe it...

Life Lessons:
-Doing the right thing is hard...

-You can love someone and still want to strangle the living daylights outta them...

-Death is painful...

Where, oh where is Ruthibelle?

.......................buried under books!!

**This MIA announcement brought to you courtesy of the University of Tertiary Education in collaboration with the Ruthibelle Pursuit of Knowledge Foundation (RPKF). For more information, contact the University at 1-888-STILL-DISORGANISED or the RPKF at 1-888-TOO-MANY-ESSAYS...

Dear Daddy Dearest,

I should start by saying how much I love and respect you as a man who can own the word 'father' in its fullest sense. As a man who actively contribute to the welfare of all your children. As a man who stick with one wife for all of 24 years, and as a husband who still do corny things like hug your wife from behind and kiss her on the lips before your children (yuck!)...

But seriously daddy... I think is time you and me talk. And since I still fraid to tell you these things just so, I decide to write this letter.

*Deep breath*

See, daddy...

I'm a big girl now.

Most people agree.

I not being feisty or rude or playing some rebellion game. I'm 20 years old now, you know. I think I have enough sense to make certain decisions without.... parental interference.

*deep breath*

Daddy, I think is time for you to let go.

I don't mean let go as in desert me and cut me off completely (especially not now when I halfway through university, oh God no!). I mean loosen your grip a little so I can... you know... breathe...

Daddy, I done know where I come from. You drill that into my head and I will never forget it. God knows I love home, and I will forever be a country-bumpkin at heart, but some things can only stay in the heart. I don't want to live there forever. And sometime soon, you must realise and accept that I won't.

And this religion thing... *sigh*. Daddy... would you please stop interrogating my friends bout religion? If they not Christians, then they just not Christians. Leave them alone and stop frighten them with hell and eternal damnation every time they come round.

And... ahm... this thing about me having a boyfriend that you like... You realise, daddy, that is not you the young man dating, is me? How you expect me to get married, sir, if I don't date nobody? And how you expect me to date anybody, sir, if alla them fraid a you? And how you expect them to stop frai a you, sir, if everytime they come near your house, you sit them down and preach them a sermon or conduct CIA-level interrogation?? You know me stubborn just like you and me not going fall for the set-up thing you and mummy try with Jazzy! (Jazzy=my older sis)

Daddy, I know when you look at me you still see little defenseless five-year-old Ruthie with the lisp and the buff teeth and the crooked little smile, but if you look harder you will notice that the lisp disappear, the buff teeth grow out properly, and the smile not so crooked anymore. This overprotective, control-my-life, interrogate/convert/scare-away-my-friends thing... *sigh*... it have to stop.

Daddy, when you look at me, don't see the big, bad world waiting to get me. Don't see the men you will never trust with your precious little innocent daughter... Don't see the things you have no control over and can never change anyway. See me. Beneath the make-up and the earrings and the pretty floral patterns, is the same Ruthie you raised from baby. I still your baby girl. Just a woman too. And woman mean autonomous freedom to decide my life... without well-intentioned but undue interference... you understand what I saying?

With Love,
Ruthibelle.

Cc: Mommy Dearest...

To be young and in shorts!

The sight that assailed my eyes at the university today! What we call a mature student, in a white t-shirt, showing off his pot-belly and extraordinarily obtrusive navel, and -of all things- shorts!! And I don't mean jeans shorts, like what them young boys wear from time to time, or even beach shorts, I mean the primary/basic school, PE, right-under-my-behind shorts!!

This man traipsing all over campus, oblivious to the stares and giggles, speckled chicken legs and all, with his book-bag strapped over his shoulder...... oh lawd! I had to shake my head, bite my lip, and look away.

But it made me think about how popular shorts are becoming on campus. With the girls, I mean. And they keep getting shorter. The other day I saw two with their thin little strips of shorts-band-aids showing off butt-cheeks and cracks... not to mention the microscopic skirts, and sheer, sheer nylon tights!

I'm not trying to dictate what people should or should not wear to class, but this is the kinda thing that make professors complain bout student attire, the type of thing that leads to discussions bout university students wearing uniforms to classes... Why, when we have freedom, we always indulge in excess??

Thought for the Day

For those moments when you feel faint.....

The Gang Of Five!

Our taxi driver was antsy today. Didn't even pick up passengers at the regular bus stop. He went around the corner, then came back on foot to call us into the taxi.

And when he drove off, he took all the backroads he knew, didn't once venture onto the standard route... The "Gang of Five" was on the road.

From what I gather, this is a group of five police bikers who frequently patrol the Town-Papine route: smart, seasoned veterans and every illegal (and many legal) taxi man's worst nightmare.

My driver ketch him fraid: suddenly remembered his outdated license, his unpaid insurance... even noticed that air was lacking on two of his car-tires. The man started to sweat... called all his taxi-friends to warn them that Gang of Five was patrolling the area.

He heard that they were on Old Hope Road, so he decided to drive on Mona Road. Then, he got another call: the Gang of Five was making its way to Mona Road.

My driver nearly died on spot. Ahead of us, we could see a couple cars parked by a gas station, right beside an intersection. There was no turn-off before the intersection, and no way to see who was around the corner... Our driver slowed to a crawl, craning his neck to see if the dreaded Gang of Five was around the corner, waiting to track him down and charge him for all the sins he now vividly recalled...

There was no Gang of Five around the corner. But even then our driver wasn't pacified. He kept saying how these guys were cunning, and could be waiting around any corner, on any main road...

I found it fascinating to watch a grown man nearly pass out from fear of a group of policemen. I thought it fantastic that police can still drive that level of fear into wrong-doers, (even if I did endorse his wrong-doing when I chose to take his taxi)... I sincerely hope he took the rest of the day off, though, cause even if Gang'o Five don't catch him, sheer terror alone goin' give him a heart attack!

Writing My Passion

In my times of greatest conflict, I find it easy to write.

Flip open a notebook. Pick up a pen. Write my fingers into a tizzy. Let my fingers lead me into alternative, imaginary worlds...

I wish I could write from my heart. I wish my heart had hands to write what it felt. I wish there was some process through which my feelings bypassed my mind and all the other regions of my body that seem to throw them into confusion, and just went straight to my hands, to my fingers, so I could write, and adequately, clearly, express what I feel.

I wish I knew what my writing voice was: you know, that style, sound and quality that is uniquely, distinctly me. I wish imitation were a difficultly acquired skill, instead of an educational necessity. I wish intelligence, uniqueness and individuality were more readily advocated and encouraged, so that more people would grow up discovering themselves – their true selves – in their own ways, instead of getting lost in a sea of shiftless imitators. Then, perhaps, perchance, maybe people would find themselves. And I would find myself.

To find oneself: what does that mean? To find oneself?

I need to find myself
Amidst all this empty drifting
To pour my heart into a bowl
And do some careful sifting

What I need is to be totally completely free
What I need is to be totally completely me...

Who am I?

In times of greatest conflict, I find it easy to write.

Copyright 2007
Writefully Mine
Ruthibelle