Wednesday, February 24, 2021

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 27: Line 34 (406)

 The child, meanwhile, having caught sight of the Chums in their summer uniforms, stood gazing, her eyes wide, as if deciding how well behaved she ought to be.

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Can a four or five year old decide how well behaved they're going to be? Isn't that like expecting a cat to behave properly when guests drop by and not to wave their pink butthole in the guest's faces? Aren't five year olds simply themselves with no real thought or consideration? This Dally must be pretty mature for her age. The definition of maturity is being able to choose not to be an annoying asshole. Children often can't make this choice; adults nearly as often can't either.

"Chums in their summer uniforms"
Remember, the Chums basically look like Stripesy from DC Comics:


But my assumption is that they're wearing short pants. And the fitted shirt is actually a blazer. And they probably wear their underwear under their short trousers.


Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 27: Line 33 (405)

 "Dally, ya little weasel," Merle greeted her, "the corn liquor's all gone, I fear, it'll have to be back to the old cow juice for you, real sorry," as he went rummaging in a patent dinner pail filled with ice.

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In 1893, a father could make a joke about his daughter being an alcoholic without garnering, from nearby witnesses, the kinds of looks usually reserved for a person cannibalizing another person. Even in 1993, you may have gotten away with it, although at least one person would have to exclaim, "You're so bad!" To which you could have responded, "Me?! She's the one with the drinking problem!" You could still make this joke today, as well, of course, but you have to know your audience. Even if the audience is composed of the kind of people who would side-eye and tut-tut a stranger making this kind of joke in public, they'll almost certainly accept as fine and dandy if they know you. That's the main problem with people judging everybody else immediately and on the flimsiest of experiences in this new online world. Most people judge strangers in the harshest context imaginable, barely being able to imagine giving the benefit of the doubt to somebody they've never met before. The main problem is that we just have too much access to too many people now. Somebody online can tell a stupid, throwaway family story about a can of beans, forgetting that the audience for the story is millions of people with no context of anything except the words on the screen, and they'll roast you for it because, obviously, the worst take they can imagine must be the truth.

"cow juice"
Anybody who uses the phrase "cow juice" is a literal monster and should be burned at the stake. Gonna go on Twitter and search "cow juice" and harangue everybody whom I find using it!

"a patent dinner pail"
I guess this was a pail built to hold dinners and keep them cool which was also patented. This is the kind of amazing insights you won't find on other Against the Day wikis. They'd probably ignore this sentence altogether, not realizing that really dumb people might need help clarifying this book too.

 "filled with ice"
I began trying to research when humans began to generate their own ice rather than chipping it off of mountains and glaciers and frozen rivers and shipping it all over the world but there were just too many steps to the process and I easily became bored trying to figure it out. Unless the first commercial ice maker was developed in 1854. Which probably means Laura Ingalls was still getting natural ice shipped from some frozen river up north out of the ice shed while Nellie Oleson was filling her root beers with fancy ice purchased by some manufacturer.

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 27: Line 31-32 (403-404)

 "Say, Pa! I need a drink!"

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This girl is four or five and she can talk?! I should probably learn more about children and their major accomplishments for each year of life. I think when they're two, they understand when you steal their nose but they're too dumb to realize you didn't actually steal it and will scream in terror if you try to leave without giving it back. By three, they've probably learned to feel their face and think, "Wait. I still have my nose. Is that guy an idiot?" By four, they're all, "That's your thumb, you stupid prick. It doesn't even look like a nose. Get out of the way, you dinosaur." By five, they apparently know when they're thirsty, according to Pynchon's book. By six, they learn to roll their eyes and make jerking off motions with their hands whenever an adult speaks. By seven, they can sharpen spears and growl ferociously. By eight, they remind you every day of their life from that point on that your future is over and it's their world now.

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 27: Line 30 (402)

 An attractive little girl of four or five with flaming red hair was running toward them at high speed.

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"An attractive little girl"
The phrase "an attractive little girl" sounds like something that should be saved for the sequel to Lolita. It's making me uncomfortable! I suppose it's an innocent thing to say and my issue with it says more about how disgusting I am but what can I do? I've already put the thought out there! I would have said "adorable" or "cute" or "pre-sexy."

"flaming red hair"
She must be Irish, right? Don't only Irish people have flaming red hair in 1893?

"running toward them at high speed"
How fast could this speed have been? She's only four or five! I bet I could beat her in a foot race.

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 27: Line 29 (401)

 "Pa!"

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"Pa!"
Father. Dad. Generally a nickname for the male parent. Popularized by Laura Ingalls in Little House on the Prairie.

Mentioning the television version of Laura Ingalls demands that I point out that she's one of my favorite characters from television. Not because she was a sweet little independent girl full of gumption and perseverance but because she was a right little selfish asshole. Sure, Nellie Olsen was played as the villain, and rightfully so, for she is not only a jerk as well but also a rich jerk, the worst kind. But Laura was a terror who caused so much trouble usually due to her exceeding desire to sate her own wants and passions. She was my childhood hero.

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 27: Line 28 (400)

 A fellow scarcely knew after a while where to look—

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The "fellow" in this line is probably a reader of Pynchon. And all of the various mechanical flying contraptions are the themes within his books. Pynchon is showing us that while his themes are extravagantly different from each other, one to the next, they still all relate in one key way: they are all flying machines.

I don't mean to suggest all of his themes are about flying! That was just part of the analogy or metaphor inherent in the subtext of Merle's observation! I don't know, exactly, what the relationship of all of the themes Pynchon is exploring might be. I don't even know what all of the themes are! I've pointed out a few, like light and labor rights and imperialism and racism and Star Trek and technology. But I haven't read the entire book so I'm probably missing a lot of them. But even if I had read the entire book, I'd still probably miss a lot of themes because they concern aspects of life to which I'm barely attuned. Plus, I'd probably not know how they all relate seeing as how I've read Gravity's Rainbow one and a half times (at the moment! It'll soon be two! I swear it!) and I don't think I'd be able to explain it very well. It has something to do with escaping the system by somehow extricating yourself from the eyes and ears of the powers that be, of somehow accepting that you'll never know or control everything and maybe you just need to make peace with that. It has something to do with shoving your sex slave into a rocket and blasting him into oblivion wrapped in a material that might have been used to give a poor little baby a hard-on decades earlier. Whatever it's about, it's a fantastic read and worth it simply because every section is like a short story delving into the philosophy of some aspect of modern life. I'm not sure you even need to read the book straight through to truly enjoy it.

Anyway, the fellow scarcely knowing where to look after a while is just a person reading and trying to understand the newest Pynchon novel. It's as obvious as Pugnax being a Scrappy Doo insert.