Living in the bubble.

I tend to think of myself as living "outside" the bubble. I don't get 24/7 cable tv any more. The community here is much smaller and much less virtual. I don't for example follow all the slings and arrows of the US healthcare struggle, though it certainly does and will affect me. Heck I don't even get to watch American Idol in realtime any more, though it is just as entertaining on delayed broadcast (almost).

But the other day a friend told me I was the one living in the bubble. That's exactly what he said. "You're living in a bubble." Which gave me pause to consider. I mean, I'm sure there are places in the USA that are not permeated by the celebrity culture, by nonstop Fox/CNN, pockets where the jargon of the "death panels" and the "birthers" doesn't even register (yes, my bubble is permeable).

I suppose it is fair to say I have swapped one bubble for another. That's the way it is, no? You're in one wherever you go. Now to important things . . .

Last night was Saturday movie night, and Andrew and I went to suss out a rental. I tried a different video store but it's always the same. I can walk the aisles of the drama, comedy, thriller sections and not spy a single appropriate thing. I often spiral my way into the classics - amongst a certain age set, have they made a better family movie since Swiss Family Robinson? We eventually settled on the original Hercules, and we wound up having a double feature of the old and the new. As it turned out, the most recent Indiana Jones offering was being broadcast by NZ TV, and we had not seen it.

It's the one with the bizarre crystal alien heads, the roomful of space creatures that eventually blasts off in a mind-numbing swirl of special effects gone mad. Even Andrew - who is 8 years old and ought to be a part of the demographic for this - asked what all that alien stuff was about. That's crazy, he says (shakes head). That's not gonna happen.

I guess you could say the same thing about the reunification of old Henry Jones with the Karen Allen character at curtain close, and the jovial walking down the aisle into happily ever after. A celebration of the enduring bonds of love and family? Nah, I'm thinking if you suddenly "discover" that you have a son aged twenty or so, what that's called is kind of the opposite.

Better I think the battle with the flesh and blood minotaur. And that funky dinosaur thing that pops up under the golden fleece. For all its funkiness the hideous beast can still be slayed by Jason with the chuck of a single spear.