While we’re on the subject of newspaper clippings (you all are so clever with your shot comments), look what my co-worker left on my desk this morning:
This confirms what I have always believed about my co-workers: they want me to suffer.
Chuck and I are going to suck it up and take Junior to the Day out with Thomas extravaganza, but let me tell you, I’m terrified. Not at the prospect of standing next to a life-sized Thomas and Sir Topham Hatt (known in some circles as the “Fat Controller”*) or paying $18 for a 25-minute ride (that’s almost a dollar a minute) for all three of us, but because this event might catapult Junior to a place from which his little toddler brain may never return.
I’m afraid he’s going to become a Sodorite. And frankly, I’m sick of hearing about Salty and Cranky and Molly and Emily and Gordon and Henry and their damn shunting and puffing.
Sometimes when Junior asks, “Is Thomas puffin’?” I have to snicker. Yes, Sweetie, he’s puffin’...but he didn’t inhale.
And who but the “Everyone Poops” author uses the word “poop” in a story? Junior’s only two years old and he already giggles over this:
“Thomas is poopin’! Thomas is poopin’!”
And what the hell is up with "Thomas and the Big, Big Bridge"?
I know it’s just a kid’s story and I know that it’s fictitious, but tales that rely on readers' suspension of disbelief need to succeed at convincing us to suspend our disbelief. After Thomas’ wheels jump the track on the big, big bridge, I cannot get past the line “But inside his coaches, the passengers enjoyed the wonderful view.”
Are you friggen kidding me? Do you know the pandemonium that would ensue if people were trapped on a bridge—one so high it's in the clouds—because the train’s wheels had jumped the track? Do you really think that as people were teetering and hanging off the side of the bridge they’d be admiring the mountains? No. They’d be screaming, “Holy fuck, we’re going to die.”
Oh, but right, we’re supposed to be concerned about Thomas’ fear of the tall bridge. It’s always about Thomas. Hero of the rails my ass.
*Note: According to Wikipedia, the Fat Controller is referred to as The Fat Director in the first two books in the series (The Three Railway Engines and Thomas the Tank Engine). In the third book (James the Red Engine) he becomes The Fat Controller, as the railway has been nationalized.
In the American version, he has always been referred to by his actual name, Sir Topham Hatt, solely for politically correct reasons.