Horror of Fang Rock: A Ramble (And More…)

 

Nothing like a light selection of Doctor Who on a rainy day. It’s funny because “horror” is in the title and I feel like I’m watching a fluffy set of episodes. There is a character, Reuben, that my sweetheart pointed out, “That guy reminds me of Badger,” meaning from The Wind In The Willows. I then realized the time period was Edwardian and not Victorian, which would fit with that aspect. The other thing I love about this story is the models: so cute! The tragedy of the boat hitting the rocks appears so toy-like to be adorable. As was the look of the meteor/rocket coming down that appeared to be a glowing purple cricket bat.

 

The setting of a lighthouse is rather romantic especially upon being aware that the real life of a lighthouse is incredibly strenuous. It’s similar to enjoying winter weather for the sake you have shelter.

 

Frankly I find the concern toward the legend of a sea creature more alluring than yet another Whovian space villain out to show their superiority. Seriously, The Leviathans on Dark Shadows are pretty much like a Whovian space-villain. There is no purpose other than some kind of bizarre dominance thing, which is likely why The Leviathans portion of Dark Shadows set their ratings to plummeting. Anyone who might have noticed the similarity at the time probably protested, “Egad! This is like a Doctor Who story, but it’s endless! There is no horizon in sight! If I wanted to watch Doctor Who I’d be watching Doctor Who!” And then they got up and turned it off like my husband did in attempting to watch later episodes of “Enterprise”.

Another fun element of this particular Doctor Who story is the focus on electricity versus old means to run and light things. The younger set is all for electricity and the older set is all for the tried and true methods they grew up with. This one is also great for Leela’s assessment of things. She learns new lessons from The Doctor and also gets snappish with the gentry bitching and complaining all the time, or going into hysterics. The slimy guy trying to bribe people with his last fifty pounds is pretty annoying! Vince is rather swell, he’s one of the keepers. The villain itself appears to be like a green hard sour or apple candy with a vague lacing of white cotton candy trailing it.

The Doctor, himself, seems to be pretty demanding, more to the gentry, of course. They appear to need it since they are at a loss to occupy themselves very well. Then the lady begins to weep over the coming of what her Astrologer informed her of, and Leela refers to that as, “Your shaman.” That’s a fun bit.

I’m almost disappointed I know what the heck is going on now. When we first watched this I was just so cosy with the setting and the way people spoke, my sweetheart had to update me on certain occurrences while I was putting together my embroidery stitch-work. Now that I consider the candy resembling villain, it is rather pointless, just going around offing humans for no particular reason. But it makes sense to the general feeling of this show, I guess. I suppose that would be the lesson in my own experience. Social media addicts often turn into villains on Doctor Who. Living life no longer matters, just the need to outdo all the other villains. In this case I particularly like sharing initials with the show itself.


 

And again, I am much calmer getting back to work, staying away from the social network saloon. I have to remind myself I have managed myself out of the madness on a fair level, which means I have a quality of life much different than millions of other people right now. The dependency issue requires carefully attended avoidance. That’s why going back to the television watching helps, especially now that I’m just leaving on some of the extra documentaries added to this DVD of Doctor Who. It’s basic linear, not a scattering of distractions out of place and sequence.

The stats are pretty humourous lately. Plenty of oddly familiar spots, as if people are checking to see if there is any more goodies with a vague sense of awareness that they are doing so… I believe if that sense of awareness increases there ought to be some digestion of the horrors bystanders can achieve.

Will there be any realization that, as much as we like to switch gears to the winning side, that choosing to defile the hazards of social media means to accept personal flaws? That seems to be the particular hardship most are struggling with. After rooting and defending it and having that on record, it’s difficult to feel trustworthy, upstanding and reliable to demean it while having so many years of stalwartly defending it in our wake.

Plenty of folks are still hooked, though! Some just a little, some totally dependent. It’s hardly that fun additive anymore in which you find an old buddy or cousin and exchange phone numbers that you actually use to talk to them. If that still happens at all I sure don’t hear about it.

And this is why when I write my letters I show my gratitude so often. Each and every one of them helped to pull me out of that addiction, an addiction that still lingers, but much less so. They showed me there was still a wonderful world of people that had no urging to request I join them on the “social” network. They have hobbies, crafts, favourite music, pets. They detail their times going out that they enjoy or the odd travels that have some misadventure here and there. Real life. Personal awareness. Admittedly a few pen friends went away from that hand-in-the-cookie-jar embarrassment after grabbing all my online goodies and never saying so…

But enough remained with good manners and little to no embarrassment to checking out a bit in the cookie-jar or sweets-tin I have out here in cyberspace. They could say so, some a bit sheepishly, but what’s wrong with sheepishness when one is aware of it?

To these pen friends, they show me the epilogue of “The Time Machine” by H.G. Wells. In all this mess of hunter and prey in life, even among humans upon each other, there is still something else:

“And I have by me, for my comfort, two strange white flowers—shrivelled now, and brown and flat and brittle—to witness that even when mind and strength had gone, gratitude and a mutual tenderness still lived on in the heart of man.”

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