That Familiar Cathode Buzz: The Curse of Saturday Mornings...

Because I am connected so deeply (and wrongly, and somewhat against my will at this point) to a childhood misspent in front of an RCA television, things like this happen:

Raw Meat and I are knocking out problem after problem at work, and in the midst of this, we tend to throw one-liners back and forth. Raw Meat says something quite out of left field to me, but the word "space" is somewhere in there, and so I call him a "far out space nut."

Why? Because the phrase is stuck in my head. Why? Because I watched every goddamn program on Saturday morning television for years and years. When the shows I really liked went to reruns, I watched the shows I didn't watch the first time. I saw them ALL. And I saw a Sid and Marty Krofft show starring Bob Denver and Chuck McCann called:

Raw Meat had never heard of the show, owing to his not having been born at that point in time (1975). And because he was born in another land far removed from our crappy Saturday Morning television shows. When I described the show to him and showed him a picture or two on the internet, he said "It looks funny."

I replied, "No, but it sure seemed that way when I was eleven."


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