Whalefest

Cynical, creepy old guy, propped up against the door jam, watching the kids as they flail about to the smiling, bobbing, saccharine filled duo Good Dog. That’s me. I did my best to participate in “WhaleFest” this weekend in Kodiak, in between calls of suicidal, dying, and fractured patients. It was a nice diversion, as lately the weather had been rainy, cold, and dark in Kodiak, and I was given the present of an Alaskan summer day in April. I find myself torn, however, as I watched the children’s show between comfort and mockery.

I have always had a very cynical sense of sense of humor and have relished it, despite the cutting nature. Often the tool of the insecure, my cynicism is no different, but hey, if you’re good at something…

This is where the children’s show comes in. I was wishing that Jackson could be around, while secretly being uncomfortable and a little embarrassed about being present myself. Will I get used to these things, or will I secretly despise them and work at keeping my mouth under control. Should I feel bad at finding humor in the job choice of adults who sing songs about Baby Belugas and howl like wolves? At least they’re not the freakin’ Doodlebops.