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According to Hofmann: Children and art: a disappointing combo

By Mark Hofmann mhofmann@heraldstandard.Com 5 min read
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Many artists — whether itĢƵ the written word, the plucked note, the brushstroke of an oil-based paint or the smashed watermelon on a stage — go through a period where their creative juices are tainted with Kool-Aid after they have children.

This isn’t a “what about the children?” column, but a “because of the children” column.

ThereĢƵ nothing I hate more — other than eating beets — than an author that I admire talking about their next project inspired by their kids.

“My next book is a departure from my two previous bestselling novels, ‘Hooking HookerĢƵ Revenge With a Hook’ and ‘The Bloody Bone Cage’ as I decided to write something for my newborn son called, ‘Squishy McSquash Goes to Cloud Land’, and the movie adaptation will be directed by the same guy who directed ‘Bone Spike’ and ‘Death to All That Breathe Part 3’ because he wanted to make something for his 2-year-old daughter to watch.”

To put it a different way, imagine seeing the same thing, but only from a magician or an illusionist or a mag-lusionist.

For example, David Copperfield makes the Statue of Liberty Disappear (spoiler warning: he made it disappear in 1983) and after he makes it reappear, he looks at the camera and says, “Well, that was a fun illusion, but now for some real magic for you kids watching at home!”

He then raises his hand in front of the camera and then pulls it back, but now with the tip of his thumb tucked between his index and middle finger and then says, “Look it! I got your nose! Yes I do!”

I remember watching the Statue of Liberty disappearing illusion when I was a tyke, and I’ll never forget it because it was such a great memory. I wanted to watch the whole thing, but I was forced by gunpoint to go to bed early because I had to get up for school so I could forget what they taught me, but at the end of the David Copperfield special, my mom woke me up and asked, “Do you want to watch him make the Statue of Liberty disappear?”

So we watched it together, and it remains a special moment from my childhood locked in my memory along with my hatred of beets.

Now, if Copperfield would have followed up the Statue of Liberty disappearing with the got-your-nose trick, I would have been angry because, first, it would have taken away from the awe I felt from that grand illusion and, second, I would have been fooled by that trick, too, staying up for hour to make sure I still had my nose.

Let me be clear, I love kids and have no ill will toward them and, to be perfectly clear to my seven or four loyal readers out there, I want all y’all to know that I will never disappoint you by degrading this column so my stepdaughter, Emma, can be entertained.

In fact, I’ve even gone above and beyond that promise by not even making up any bedtime stories for Emma unless sheĢƵ paying me half of her Tooth Fairy profits.

Allow me to push this point even further to show you how horrible it would be if I broke that promise to you.

Like many newspaper reporters, I’m a failed novelist, but I still have plenty of ideas floating around upstairs along with battered, abused and dead brain cells for at least trying to drink like a novelist for the past several years.

Anyway, for this column, I’ve decided to let Emma brainstorm with me about a hard-boiled crime story on which I’ve written notes.

The following is a brief synopsis of story of a mob enforcer named Poopy Booger-Butt, who broke legs and candy canes on the mean streets of that place where Peppa Pig lives (Emma wasn’t sure of the name, so we’ll call it PeppaĢƵ City Farm).

One day on Christmas Day — well, everyday is Christmas Day in this story, so deal with it — Booger-Butt was framed for tickling a corrupt FBI agent at the McDonaldĢƵ Play Place in the red tube next to the slide, which set off a chain of events that made Booger-Butt a target of the mob, the feds and mommy.

He had to retreat to PeppaĢƵ City FarmĢƵ seedy underground to find the man who framed him and to clear Booger-ButtĢƵ name while leaving a body count of 1, 2, 3, 7, 4-gazillion unicorns and llamas.

If you think that was bad, the person who framed Booger-Butt was none other than dastardly due of Beets and Broccoli. I originally just had Beets, but Emma insisted on adding Broccoli.

The End

According to Hofmann is written by staff reporter Mark Hofmann of Rostraver Township. He hosts the “Locally Yours” radio show on WMBS 590 AM every Friday. His book, ”Stupid Brain,” is available on Amazon.com.

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