I don’t read much. And as a child, I read even less. The pictures drew me in, the titles intrigued me, yet the words on the page were something to be glossed over. Skipped, scanned, ignored wholesale. What’s peculiar is how our memory routinely toys with us. Had I been questioned a month ago about the impact of Dr. Seuss, I would’ve given the author a five-star review, praising the singular genius for his anapestic abilities as well as his amazing advice. I guess I didn’t remember how truly damaging many of his books were to a forming mind. In preparation for the annual cleaning marking the passage of another season, I unearthed the following musty, dusty and problematic children’s books from storage. You're not going to believe it.
The 500 Flats of Bartholomew Cubbins
A completely unrealistic depiction of the real estate industry, with Mr. Cubbins owning and operating hundreds of small apartments all over the colorful countryside. He’s given loan after loan by the bank, despite the tremendous risk to everyone involved. There’s no bankruptcy proceedings, nor is there a criminal trial of Cubbins, slumlord extraordinaire. He just collects his rent from tenants and skips around singing and dancing like there’s no such thing as being in the red.
The King’s Kilts
King Bertram isn’t Scottish, not by a long shot. Yet he wears the native garb of a highlander morning, noon and night. This objectionable apologia for monarchies should leave everyone in a democracy with a bad impression. The King’s obsession with plaid reaches its terrifying apex when he decides to blanket several mountains and lakes under his dominion with the material. What about when it rains? What then?
Horton Snatches the Keg
Horton is an elephant and a bootlegger. An opportunist without a clear moral center. He’s invited to all-night soirees on the gold coast of Long Island where demand for the demon run is higher than ever. One night, Horton raids a rival’s marine shipment and a wild shootout ensues. The alcohol spills into the bay, except for one keg, which Horton saves using his long trunk. He stealthily stumbles off, badly battered and bloody to his rural safehouse. The book ends on a cliffhanger, as prohibition agents shine a spotlight through his front window, imploring him to surrender. He takes a sip from the keg and…THE END.
McElligot’s Boule
McElligot is an ex-pat living in Nice. He has a past, yes, but he keeps it from the locals. He sits in the town square every morning, chain smoking, reading the International Herald Tribune and watching a group of elderly men play pétanque or boules. One day they generously invite him to play. McElligot, whose ancestry is totally absent any French, throws the boule overhand – a big no-no. The metal ball flies across the court and into the plate glass window of Madame Pain’s Boulangerie, shattering it and leaving most of the day’s croissants covered in jagged shards. It’s a town scandal. McElligot can’t seem to make things right and moves back to Cleveland, where he belongs.
Thidwick the Big-hearted Moose on Juice
Thidwick is a moose, and a big one at that. He’s enters into the annual village body-building competition. Without any natural acumen for weight-lifting, he hears about a substance – anabolic steroids, or juice – that would leave his competition in the dust. He takes it, breaks one barbell after another, and wins by default. While many are suspicious, this was well-before mandatory drug testing.
If I Ran the Sioux
Bill the Bison approaches the leaders of the Lakota Sioux, not long after the Battle of the Little Bighorn. He asks them if they’d consider restructuring their confederation in a slightly different way, where animals – especially bison - get a say in how things are run. The tribe is initially receptive to his proposal, but ultimately balks at it after Bill makes the mistake of saying something complimentary about the late General Custer.
Gambled Eggs Super
Peter H. Hooper is a gambling man, or to put a finer point on it and use the lingo of the day, a low-life degenerate gambler. Down on his luck and living in an Atlantic City flophouse, Hooper vows to stop gambling in casinos, where there's much too much heat on him. Instead, he goes to various diners and makes wagers over breakfast – namely ones involving eggs.
If I Ban the Circus
Mr. Sneelock is a magnate of some kind or another. After a childhood acrobatics accident involving elephantine excrement, he’s committed his life to ridding the planet of the circus. He does this by buying up every circus and promptly shutting its doors, or tent flaps as it were. He closes down the last circus on earth and lets the animals run wild through the town, laying waste to storefronts, homes and automobiles. Sneelock is happy, rich, and relatively young, so he joins a militant animal liberation group, helping free any pet held against its will. So all of them.
The Gnat in the Splat
A meditation on death, where a gnat’s last few seconds alive are illustrated in breathtaking detail before the harrowing arrival of an oncoming windshield.
The Gnat in the Splat Goes Thwack
The gnat’s gone in an instant, but that doesn’t mean the family inside the car stops looking at the carnage. They witness the wiper blades moving back and forth, squishing the bug further, until the whole affair is cleansed by some of that goodly blue liquid.
How the Grinch Trolled Christmas
The Grinch, a twitter addict, declares war on Christmas through subtweets, retweets and think-pieces questioning the divinity of Christ.
One Knish Two Knish Red Fish Blue Knish
An unnecessarily scientific understanding of spoiling food. We see the molding process up close. Or until Ahmad’s knishes are not just inedible, but a low-level biohazard.
Green Eggs on the Lam
Sam-I-am robs a bank, making away with green money and green eggs, the latter of which are rare jewels found in various safe deposit boxes. Sam-I-am knows that very little cash is kept on hand these days, so a score is only worth it when something else more valuable is stolen. He has no time to learn computer hacking either. He goes on the lam, adopting a new identity, Sam-I-was. Law enforcement eventually catches up with him and he surrenders without a fight. Little do they know that he’s already consumed all of the evidence.
Fox in Stocks
Fox, living in 17th century New England, is accused by his neighbors of swearing and public drunkenness. The punishment is swift and puritanical. He’s shackled and put in the stocks, left to be gawked at and ridiculed by anyone who passes. How else do children grapple with sin?
You probably didn’t remember any of these titles in detail. They weren’t so fun, were they? What do you expect? Seuss wasn’t even a real doctor. If you don’t read, you have no chance of being influenced by dreck like this. So keep your eyes shut and your feet moving. Nothing to see (or read) here.
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