Entry: beanstalks and beethoven Friday, September 15, 2006



I just had the most profound thought of my entire life. It’s the deepest thing that I ever did thunk. And my profound thought is this:

I wonder if some people can play ‘Beethoven’ better than Beethoven could play ‘Beethoven.’

Like, maybe there’s some famous pianist who is alive today who plays all the songs Beethoven composed in an extremely kick-ass manner. And maybe he plays them even better – with more, emotion, passion, whatever – than Beethoven did… Even though B actually composed the songs!

And we wouldn’t even KNOW how these people compare to Beethoven, because there are no recordings of him or anything.

Seriously, doesn’t the idea of that just kill you?

And I mean, it’s also kind of unfair. Beethoven went to all the trouble of writing these songs, and then some young whippersnapper one hundred years after his death goes and usurps his position of being awesome. Besides, people have probably evolved slightly since then, and we have more dexterous fingers or something, so it’s kind of mean to compare the people today to B anyway.

And, even if we haven’t evolved to have fingers that can reach double octaves better, we definitely do have things like… oh, I don’t know… HYGIENE! I bet if Beethoven was able to wash his hands everyday then he would have played better, too. As it was, the grime from his fingers probably meant they slipped around on the keys a lot.

Anyway, I just feel sorry for Beethoven, poor guy. That’s all I’m saying.

*

Okay, fairy tales really bother me. And I know they’re SUPPOSED to be fantastical, but seriously. Couldn’t Grimm comma The Brothers have made it a little easier to relate to their stories/believe them at all?

For, example: have you ever SEEN a beanstalk? There is no way someone could climb one of those, let alone some young idiot who was stupid enough to buy “magic beans” (how did HE know they were gonna be magic?). Beanstalks curve over, for goodness sake. I mean, they grow upwards for, like, a couple of seconds, and then the weight makes them curve downwards. Definitely not sky-reaching material. I mean, hello? Have you ever heard of a tree? Big, bark-y, trunk-y things. Couldn’t Jack just have gotten an accord, or something?

Also, so much for teaching good morals or whatever. Jack is REWARDED with a goose that lays golden eggs, and a freaky half-mutant half-harp and a pot of gold when he sells his family’s only cow Bessie for three beans. And his sister is dying at the time, and they need medicine. In short, Jack is rewarded for idiocy.

Also, how do giants live on clouds? ‘Nuff said.

(Unless they’re “magic clouds.” I think there is entirely too much magic in this fairy tale.)

Also, you know that story where the donkey ends up vomiting a whole bunch of gold coins? Yeah, I don’t even know what happens in the beginning of the story, but seriously… Who wants coins covered in donkey-bile? Eww, much.

And Little Red Riding Hood? Okay, so the girl asked her grandmother about the teeth and the shiny eyes and the big ears, but what about: “Oh Grandmother dearest, why is your face so furry?” No old lady has a beard that big!

Anyway, my rant is finished. I’ve finally expelled the hate of fairy-tale from my system.

Oh, wait. No I haven’t. One more thing…

I hate the Ugly Duckling! It’s so mean. The moral isn’t like, ‘embrace your inner beauty’ or whatever. It’s ‘if you’re really ugly and nobody likes you, go and get a whole bunch of work done and then hang out with the other really beautiful people, who wouldn’t like you if you were still ugly anyway.’

And do we really want to be sending that message to all the cygnets of the world?

*

midge.

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