All the babysitting advice I ever needed I got from the Three Stooges: “No bones, no potato chips.” Other than that, kids are up for anything. Of course they prefer to ride on the handlebars, but you can’t have everything. Bonus points for the Vanity Fare soundtrack.
(Thanks to our good friend Johnny Glendale for sending that one along)
If David Lynch ever made a PSA, this would be it.
Soulless monkey-faced kids riding their bikes into the gaping jaws of doom. Nifty, but I feel there is a deeper metaphor than just bicycle safety at work here. Every so often I get a hint of it, but I can’t crack the code. I almost get the feeling they were trying to make an [begin quotey fingers] educational [end quotey fingers] film of some sort. That can’t be right though — the mental image of those monstrosities continuously haunts my dreams. This was obviously meant to be a horror film. A horror film with a message that I think I have the hang of.
Buy a car.
There’s no sidewalks, and there’s too much traffic, she said. It’s dangerous, she said.
Okey dokey, then.
This is what we’re talking about here on the BSBFB. We’re poor, witless males. We have no idea what makes us ride bicycles six inches from certain sudden whoopsie, while females go shoe shopping. We’re stupid. We admit that.