I confess that I love to watch television. PBS, news channels, prime time, reruns of childhood favorites like Golden Girls, House Hunters, Netflix and Amazon Prime. (Some of my best binge-watching is done here. Amazon even has a British channel! Love it!) You name it, and I have probably watched it or have a strong opinion of why I do not.
Recently, I realized that I have continued to pay for HBO, a premium television cable channel that costs me above what I already pay for cable, which is an obscene amount as it is. My current focus on this channel is due to the fact that I only subscribe to it so that I can watch one show: Game of Thrones. Now, if you are a fan, you know that it apparently will not be back with a new season until 2019. Yes, I need to cancel HBO. Clearly! But until that happens, I have been trying to watch it during the holidays–to get my money’s worth.
The other day, I sat in my favorite chair in my living room, covered up with my afghan blanket, clicked on the TV, and found the channels designated as HBO. I slowly clicked on the options that were currently airing: Scent of a Woman. Not happening. Kong Skull Island. Seriously? Harry Potter…Harry Potter again. God, why couldn’t that have been me? And then I finally landed on something that took me back to my younger years. Chucky. Good old Chucky. You remember him, right? The doll that came alive and carried a knife around, killing everyone? Well, lucky for us, he and his bride (Bride of Chucky) have a “seed” now (Actually as of 2004. I have been busy!), a child, if you can actually call it that. Looks nothing like them! So, I watch for a bit, laughing aloud at the ridiculousness of the movie and of myself using my valuable time watching such a thing. I am then reminded of all the horror films that used to scare me when I was a teen. There was Jason, Freddy, Jaws…and thinking about them now just makes me smile.
Let me explain: I sat there and realized that all of these horrific, sometimes comedic, characters have nothing on me. I have lived my very own version of The Shining and “Honey, I’m home,” for years! My villain: Scary Jerry. Here’s the best part of this epiphany. Chucky and his family made me understand that Scary Jerry is just like them–laughable, somewhat entertaining, slightly endearing and completely ridiculous. I now see Scary Jerry as a character invented for television. Now, maybe he cannot have his own channel, but I know that no matter what he spews, he cannot hurt me. I can just change the channel, baby!
Not that my family, friends, and therapist aren’t awesome, but I have to thank you, Chucky, for putting Scary Jerry in his proper place among the villains of your genre.