Why Does Jr. Asparagus Annoy Me?

My daughter is always asking me my favorite this or that; Pooh character (Eeyore), color (depends on if you're talking car, clothing, just to look at). It's hard because I usually don't have one favorite of anything, and the when I do have a few they don't usually stay favorites. I usually just tell her that; no one favorite.

I can't remember if she actually asked me my favorite Veggie Tales character or not, but somehow I started pondering those guys. Bob's the straight guy, and while game, kinda boring. Pa Grape's cool cuz he's feisty, and Larry's mischievous so he's fun.

But for some reason Jr. Asparagus really annoys me. I delved into this topic with my husband, and what we came up with is that he's not a goody-goody, but is something like that. He's....well, besides his aggravatingly squeaky voice, he's....well, just annoying.

Does anyone else find him so?

Please, Sir....could I have some more?

Regarding my last post, there is the occasional exception to the rule. The bonus materials on the DVD "The Princess Bride", having been created in the days before people started deliberately filming bonus materials for DVDs, is rather fresh and charming.

But that's not why I bring it up. The first time I saw "The Princess Bride" I loved it so much I determined not to see it again for a long time, so greatly did I not want to get tired of it. I succeeded -- watching it again the other night, for maybe only the third/fourth time and many years after the first, it was as delightful as the first time. Part of the repeat charm, though, may have been due to our daughter's watching it with us and declaring that she "loved that movie!" (Smart girl!)

In his book "Perelandra", C.S. Lewis once had his main character, Ransom, about to have a second helping of something that had given him a great deal of pleasure the first time, when an inner prompting bade him stop. He realized he was no longer hungry, and therefore, as the character muses,"Perhaps the experience had been so complete that repetition would be a vulgarity--like asking to hear the same symphony twice in a day.

"As he stood pondering over this and wondering how often in his life on earth he had reiterated pleasures not through desire, but in the teeth of desire and in obedience to a spurious rationalism..."

In other words, a sort of gluttony, perhaps? How much have DVDs lessened viewing pleasure? When "Star Wars" first came out, some people went so nuts as to see it 17 times in the theatre. Naturally no one would do that today. How much more pleasure I used to receive from hearing that great new song on the radio again than being able to pick up a record and play it any old time. I won't even start on iPods and the like. Availability and repetition have all but obliterated the elusiveness of music; no longer does one have to wait in hope.

I'm not advocating selling entire DVD or CD collections (although that's quite an idea to ponder), but I do wonder how much all this repetition is spurring people on to more and more new things, seeking yet again that first thrill of discovery that today so quickly evaporates with its easy re-discovery, or by no longer needing to pursue that resonating kindred note you used to only chance upon.

The Best Superlative Ever!!!

I would really like watching those bonus materials/features on the DVDs we buy if it weren't for the ubiquitous flattery with which they are encased. Every actor, every director is a genius, brilliant, the best they ever worked with--please!

The blurbs for works produced by Christians are sadly not much better. I'm currently reading a book that sounded exciting, especially as it involved pirates (Christian pirates? Do you know, my husband actually saw a booth at one book show called Christian Pirates? Jumping on the bandwagon until it's in splinters is one thing; touting godly stealing is entirely another. Christian keelhauling...). It didn't take but a page or two to sigh over another poorly wordsmithed project but I'm gamely plowing on with an eye on its possibly salvageable story line, though currently it's beginning to sound like National Treasure on steroids.

And how many times have I read a book or movie blurb which included the word "hilarious" and which have subsequently given me perhaps one half-smile throughout, and more likely made me cringe? Like the cheapening of the word "awesome", every superlative has been devalued. Words, which can be so powerful, are no longer used for their meanings but instead for their impact on you.

Maybe I'm among the last to bemoan its pervasiveness; maybe to most others even a gum wrapper is suspect by now. But that's not the real problem those writing them face. The real problem is, when these people come face to face with something truly brilliant, truly genius, what are they going to call it?