Posts tagged ‘Rants’

Breaking: Potter Tops Decade’s Banned/Challenged Book List; In Other News, I Have a Cookie

And what a glorious cookie it is.

You know, I’ve been thinking, and I’ve come to to conclusion that 24 really is ending.  A couple episodes ago Jack was finally done, and he even had a girlfriend to take home.  And it was an unsettling scene to watch because it showed a very calm Jack Bauer–and quite frankly I was just not used to it.  Turns out he’s actually quite calm and normal in real life, and the whole Jack Bauer image is just a facade for work.  And it was around this point that I realized there was still like. . .six episodes left, so it just couldn’t be the end, no matter how satisfied I was that Jack was finally happy.  And then, BAM!  Renee is taken from him like Teri was.  Now the reason I bring this up is because Renee’s death was to 24 what Hedwig was to Harry Potter:  I just didn’t want to see it coming.  In many ways, I think Hedwig’s death was the most heartbreaking because she really did not deserve to go.  She was always there for Harry regardless, and they were having a tiff or something, which made it that much worse.  Did J.K. NEED to kill off Hedwig?  No, not really–and yet it was entirely necessary because it signaled to me that the end was actually near.  No one was safe.  And so, Agent Walker, I mourn you the way I mourned the snowy owl in Harry Potter.  I raise my cookie to you.

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And Where, Exactly, Was My Owl?

A few years back my friend invited me to hear J.K. Rowling read at Radio City Music Hall in New York City.  That was, of course, assuming that her ill grandfather would not be able to make it.  It was cruel on her part because I had to stop myself from hoping he would croak so I could go.  He turned out all right–which was great for him, really–but the closest I could get to her was the door of Radio City.  It was probably one of the few times that she and I would be in the same country, let alone state, and I couldn’t get to her.

Cut to me in southwest Virginia, only a (somewhat long) car ride away from Washington, D.C., and I learn of THIS.  So where was the owl (let’s call it Pigwidgeon) with my invitation, hmm?  I’d like to think it was mauled by a hippogriff over the Blue Ridge Mountains, because this is quite unacceptable.  And why did none of my Harry Potter first-generation classmates think to road trip it to D.C. and crash this party, hmm?  J.K., you are the Road Runner to my Wile E. Coyote:  once again you were within my reach and, stupidly, I let the ACME bomb fall on me instead.

Personal note to J.K.:  I started reading these books when I was their age, and where were you to read to me on the White House lawn?  You owe me, Rowling.