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Memories

I’ve been singing the theme song to teeny little superguy, our wise friend drawn onto plastic cups, for years now.  Now, thanks to the wonder of the internet, we can verify that I’m not just making up dumb songs.

The teeny little super guy is like a repressed memory to people roughly my own age: at first they have no idea what I’m talking about, but after some gentle prodding the memories come flooding back with those absurd details, like riding an eggbeater.

Similarly, everyone I know saw and remembers this film about how crayons are made, but only after being prompted.

Gotta love that music. Also, if you’ve ever seen a video of cigarettes being made, you might have noticed some startling parallels.

I’m not saying that there’s a sinister alliance between public broadcasting and big tobacco. But there’s something very attractive about those little cylinders of tobacco or wax filling past.

Posted in Musings.


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