The other day I was watching a TNT rerun of Castle, a show I recently decided to check out and discovered I liked. I’m actually vaguely embarrassed—not in liking the show, it’s a good show—because I didn’t realize the male lead, Nathan Fillion, is Malcolm from Firefly (and the movie based on it, Serenity).
A while back (probably when they first began airing older episodes), TNT was running a lot of ads for the show, and I kept thinking, “Gee, that guy looks so familiar.” It took another blogger reviewing the show to make the connection. (I’m oddly bad with faces sometimes.)
It’s a good show, but this isn’t about Castle so much as coffins and creepy things.
In the episode in question, Rick Castle is creeped out at the idea of sleeping in a coffin.
It’s an idea you see from time to time in TV and movies: people who find the idea of a coffin creepy.
Such people are usually either Gothic or just plain creepy. (Abby, of course, is the former and an otherwise really delightful person. She’s one of my favorite characters on the show. She’s one of those fictional characters I wish I was friends with.)
Anyway, the whole coffin creepy thing completely escapes me. I have no understanding of why sleeping in one wooden box would be creepier than sleeping in any wooden box.
It wouldn’t give me a second’s pause.
It seems to be related to the idea of a coffin but has no real connection with reality that I can see.
It’s one of those things that makes me wonder about people and about how ideas can seriously trip us up, even when those ideas are contrary to rational thought.
[My marriage ended because my wife had irrational ideas that were hugely contrary to the reality she desired, but from which she found no escape.]
The coffin thing reminded me of a time long ago when I lived in Los Angeles, and I read about a professional carpenter who wanted to make nice, sturdy shelter units for the homeless.
The problem was, the carpenter only knew how to make (really good) dog houses. so these shelter units were basically large dog houses.
His dream of providing shelter to the homeless was thwarted, because people with no connection to the situation were appalled at the idea of the homeless sleeping in [gasp] dog houses.
Apparently a cardboard box or filthy blanket under a bridge is preferred.
Do you wonder why I think people are stupid?
Somehow the idea of [gasp] a dog house is somehow worse than whatever a homeless person can scrape up on their own.
We get so bound up in pointless ideas and labels. They seem to replace actual thought.
[Not to bring up my long-dead marriage again, but there was a time a few years after the divorce when her third marriage was rocky, headed for separation, and it looked like there was some chance we might get back together. A key reason not: she couldn’t deal with the label, “three-time divorcee.” I tried to explain that it would actually be a case of having gotten it right the second time (with me), but to no avail.]
However, he said quickly changing the subject, that’s not to say that I can’t be creeped out (it’s just not easy).
Last night I was watching one of the few (only?) TV science programs still worth watching, the PBS show NOVA.
The episode was titled, Venom: Nature’s Killer. It was about the snakes, spiders, jelly fish, lizards, cone snails and other critters that are venomous.
Scientists study venom, which is made of unusual proteins, in hopes of discovering new medicines. Many have already been found, and I have some personal experience with that (a tale for another time).
The show was fascinating, but… Oh… My… God!
I’m never going in the ocean again. Or the forest. And the jungle? Forget about it. Hell, I’m never leaving my house again.
Except I have spiders in my house, so what I really need is one of those silicon valley clean rooms with highly filtered air and no animal life of any kind!
In fact, I was on the couch after work reading when a bit of motion caught my eye: Big spider crawling up the wall just inches away!
Well, that’s not really a big deal.
While just about all spiders are venomous, most of them don’t have strong enough, or large enough, fangs to bite through human flesh.
Nearly are spiders are fairly harmless (and I actually rather like them).
But something deep in our genes responds, nevertheless (might be the eight legs, eight eyes thing).
After a moment of “Arg!!” I went and got a tissue.
But when I returned the spider was gone.
Which means so were my plans for napping on the couch. Little bugger is hiding somewhere waiting to pounce, I know it. Now I’m gonna have to sell the couch and knock down that wall.
No, not really, but I did decide to come over to the computer and write a blog post instead of taking that nap.
Pity. I was looking forward to the nap.