I was, what, fourteen, fifteen? Kevin Bacon had moved into a new town. He didn’t have any friends. He had Sting’s hair. And he sure liked to dance. Especially if he was really angry. He’d go into a dramatically lit barn and dance out his anger like an intense Tasmanian Devil. Anyway. Why was he so angry? They didn’t want him and Michael Penn to organize a dance. Dancing was illegal! I’d be angry too. Marty McFly didn’t have this problem with the Enchantment under the Sea Dance. And that was around the McCarthy era of the fifties. I was confused “What’s wrong with these people?” I thought to myself. “What kind of crazy movie is this? Also… Who is this Kurt Vonnegut whose book has parents of this kooky town, especially that pompous, Bible thumping John Lithgow, all riled up? Did they say SLAUGHTERHOUSE FIVE? That sounds like a horror book.”
In the early eighties, Argentina was coming out of a bloody dictatorship and we were fed up with banning in general. It was the time of No English music on the radios, banning a whole language. How could we want to listen to Queen if we were at war with England?
And some books just make people think a little too much about things. I remember some old curmudgeon on TV saying that universities were for learning, not thinking.
Too much thinking provokes subversive states of mind, which in turn lead inevitably to terrorism.
Thinking too much…~ read more ~