Three With No Company

There were lots of things that really pissed me off when I was three. When I was two, everything was all good. Everything was rainbows, chocolate ice cream and Bugs Bunny. But by the time 1973 rolled around I started to really see what was going on. What life was really about. The conspiracies. The deaths. The plaid bell bottoms. The Vietnam war was still raging on; 180 people died in a Nigerian plane crash; the whole Watergate thing; Picasso died; gas went up to $0.38 per gallon - I mean, what was there to smile about?

Television was extremely irksome and a very sore point with me. Lucy's cool. I love Lucy! But everything else: they all kept picking curtain number 2 and getting a lifetime supply of squid; Was Paul Lynde - the center square on Hollywood Squares - err...different? Gilligan was a goof. You mean to tell me that at his age, on a desert isle no less he wasn't trying to get with Ginger OR Mary Anne?!? Was Archie Bunker a racist or was he making fun of his own ignorance? Way too much for a three-year old mind to wrap his mind around.

And then there's Maude!

It was around this time that I was sentenced to daycare. I was fine staying home alone but with mom going off to a new job apparently that was out of the question. So now they have me learning these letters and there's lots of 'em, like 26 or something. My thin box of crayons went from 8 colors to 64; from white, black and red to burnt sienna, fuchsia and indigo. Nap time wasn't optional and there was no eye candy to be found in the joint. I just wanted to be left alone. Then, the cherry on top was when my mother was trying to figure out what to get me for Christmas that year and didn't understand what I was telling her. I kept saying "Mattel, Mattel!" because at the time, Mattel had all the bomb toys and all the commercials I'd see told me I wanted Mattel toys. What in particular, I couldn't tell you but it was made by Mattel. Mom didn't understand and I burst into tears. That's when I stopped smiling and started perfecting my ice grill.

With no one to understand my ramblings, I decided I didn't need any of them. From now on, I'd be riding dolo. I don't want your burnt sienna your letter Q or your nap time. I don't want your gay celebrities your celibate co-stars or whatever's behind the curtain. All I needed was my suede brown vest with the hoop zipper. That's all. And my white turtle neck. That's it. Oh, and my Buster Browns. All I needed in the whole world was my brown suede vest with the big hoop zipper, my white turtle neck and my Buster Browns. To hell with every one else! Oh yeah, and my 12 inch Oscar Goldman doll from the 6 Million Dollar Man with the exploding briefcase. Nothing more. Just me, my brown suede vest with the big hoop zipper, my white turtle neck, Buster Browns and my 12 inch Oscar Goldman doll from the 6 Million Dollar Man with the exploding briefcase. And that's the way it's been ever since.

Don't even get me started on 1974!