“Speed Racer,” by Tatsuo Yoshida

One of these days, I’ll find out who the cultural litterbug is in our eldest’s Kindergarten class, and then give his parent’s some really stern glares. But until then, I’ll just have to be happy with “Everybody knows about Speed Racer, Dad. Can I watch them Dad, can I?”

“Well, they are not on Netflix,” I said. Which was mostly true. There is remake series on there.

“I know that,” Eldest Smurf said. “They’re on YouTube.”

And I was reminded, not for the first time; that one of the consequences of growing-up under a stern parent is the complete lack of impact of the “stern glare” after about the age of six or so.

“How do you know that?”

“Hobbs told me. He knew all about the monkey.”

I am sooo going to get that kid one day. Drums, his parents really need him to have drums- with the complete set of brass cymbals.

At this point, Wife, the art teacher, starts talking about all the different characters.

“Mommy, will you watch them with me? Please?” Blink, blink, blink went the big brown eyes.

Off they went.

And man are they camp. Like even back in 1967, they were camp. 46 years later, they are utterly painful.

But there is a brightside to all this. Wife is having to endure them, and I get to be smug about it.

“Daddy, you can come watch them with us.”

“No.”

“I think you’ll like them.”

“No.”