|Not one of the cute girls who|
came to see Tanner
This is why I didn't post first thing this morning. Yesterday, my son Tanner got hit from behind by a snowboarder. The accident was good enough to produce a 48-stitch visit to the hospital. I could produce a much grosser picture, but that would exceed the MPAA rating for this blog.
Frankly, the thing I learned from all this was a little disheartening. Mary Shelley was completely off when she wrote Frankenstein. Horrendous scars do not repel people or make one a pariah. Scars are a chic magnet. I lost count of how many cute girls came to look at Tanner's soon-to-be scars.
The whole episode makes me question the idea of classic literature at a foundational level.