Humanely avoiding a Highlights pun
I was an avid fan of Highlights Magazine and kids’ puzzle activities as a kid. The only place I had access to them before my sister got a subscription was at our dentist’s office, so we never put up a fuss when we had to go visit good old Dr. Adams. Really. The nerdiness of me and my sisters knew no bounds. Additional case in point, we clamored for broccoli. Pleaded for broccoli. We whined, “What is this? Pepperoni on our pizza? Are you trying to clog our arteries, break our hearts, and destroy our fragile little spirits? We want broccoli!” (See, parents of picky eaters? Veggie-loving non-picky kids can be irritating and ungrateful like no one’s business! Isn’t that a relief? Wait, it isn’t? Never mind!)
Right, back to Highlights. There were two segments that I liked best of all. One: Goofus and Gallant, where the two boys would demonstrate good and bad behavior, in ridiculously obvious terms:
Gallant is helping Grandmother into her chair. He will then knit her a sweater, crochet her an afghan, dye her hair to a flattering and non-brassy blond, clip her toenails, massage her shoulders, buy her pantyhose, then help her pick out something to wear by modeling all of her clothes for her, doing a sexy little strip tease to an old record of the aria from Carmen.
Goofus lets Grandmother get into the chair by herself. She slips and accidentally falls. Goofus laughs at her, then stubs out his cigarette on her forehead, sits down in her chair, uses Grandmother as an ottoman, then, when he gets tired of her, submits her to a death panel.
My other favorite game was “What’s Wrong In this Picture?” (Oh, this one is easy! The sackful of puppies about to be tossed into the river! You’re gonna need a lot more rocks if you’re really going to make that work!) So I submit to you a conversation between Y Chromosome and the ladies who work in booths near him at the farmer’s market and just adore him.
Find everything that’s wrong with this picture, and I’ll try to get Gallant to come visit you with Grandmother’s sweatsuit and gramophone.
Ms. Grasshopper: Did you like the pie I made with your peaches?
Y Chromosome: I didn’t get to have any. They ate it at the house before I could get to it.
Ms. Ladybug: You’ll have to make him another just for him.
Ms. Grasshopper: I can’t. It’s not peach season any more. There aren’t any left.
Ms. Ladybug: Well, next year then.
Ms. Grasshopper: Nah. This time next year he’ll be married and his wife will be making him pies.