Why I Think I May Have Been Sexually Abused as a Child

I was in Mike’s Movie Madness in Portland, OR, arguably the best video store on the planet earth, browsing through the new releases. I had the weekend to myself, as the fetching Mrs. Sonnier was out of town, and I had made big plans to do a whole lot of nothing. The ultimate goal was to catch up on some movie-watching, so callously neglected with all this “going to work” and “doing the dishes” and “let’s talk about your drinking problem” nonsense. It was going to be great, I was going to watch a bunch of movies, perhaps play the occasional video game, probably not put on pants all weekend, and would probably eat ice cream with a ladle.

Mike’s Movie Madness was definitely the place to start, but it did complicate the problem a little, since that oddly-shaped, ramshackle of a video store boasts over 50,000 VHS and DVDs. I decided to start in the new release room, and that’s where I saw it: Transformers: The Complete First Season. I almost jumped out of my skin. I had been belly-aching for months over the VHS set on eBay going over $100 each and every time, but was able to reassure myself that it would soon make it to DVD, at the very least before the movie was set to premiere, and I held in my hand proof of that fact. The box was shiny, and I could see the reflection of my “five-year-old on Christmas morning” grin in Optimus Prime’s faceplate. While waiting in line, I momentarily thought of just putting the DVD back on the shelf, heading to the nearest department store and just buying the box set, but I was impatient and it was getting dark outside, and I was getting the brew-shakes. I’ll just pick up the box set later, I thought to myself with deep satisfaction.

A stop off at The Belmont Station for a bottle of moderately priced Unibrou (Trois Pistoles, I think it was) and off to the crib for a serious nostalgia-thon. Soon enough, I was installed pleasantly on the sofa with a bubbling glass of Belgian beer, a plate stacked with cold pizza, slamming my finger hungrily on the play button of the DVD remote control….

“Transformers….robots in disguise…Autobots wage their battle to destroy the evil forces of the Deceptacons…Transformers…”

And it stunk. It was terrible. I couldn’t even make it through the first episode, though, oddly enough, I actually remembered how it ended. The reason I remembered was because between the years of 1984 and some much later year that I choose not to disclose here (let’s just say that the show was well into syndication) I watched Transformers, the original television series, every day.



The animation was terrible, the voice dubs were comically out of sync. The storylines were ludicrous, even for a show that’s about robots that turn into cars and trucks and fight each other for glowing cubes of energy. I was flabbergasted. How did I watch this show for years and never realize it was so crappy?

It was about this time that the little quasi-retarded man that lives in my brain brought to my attention several other conclusions I had recently reached and strung them together for me:

1. Thundercats sucked. The animation was hokey and the voice acting was ridiculous. It was also borderline racist. Also, Mum-Ra is possibly the dumbest villain ever conceived.

2. He-Man sucked. The animation was even worse than Thundercats, and there was no hot Cheetara to keep you from noticing. Teela does not count.

3. Rainbow Brite was a conspiracy by Hallmark to turn kids into homosexuals, like Captain Planet was an effort by Ted Turner to turn kids into limp-wristed eco-freaks. My little brother’s sexual persuasion and ferocity on all things environmental is a testament to the efficacy of these reprogramming initiatives and his weak constitution.

Unavoidable Conclusion: The 80s were absolutely rife with shitty, shitty cartoons that we kids happily lapped up with all the restraint of Andy Dick at a coke party. GoBots, The Centurions, Captain Power, M.A.S.K., Pole Position, David the Gnome, and the vast majority of the others were masticated, over-produced, pre-packaged garbage that had circled the globe and been recycled so many times, they barely even made any sense anymore.

So why did we love these shows so much? Because nothing else was on and it was better than staring at the wall while you made your brother begin the twenty minute process of getting the Nintendo to work, what with the pressing and the resetting and hitting and the swabbing with the Q-tip taped to the butter knife.

The sad realization that all the television programs I loved as a child were nothing more than pop-culture, toy-sales-driven crap was not what bothered me the most. What really caused me to swallow that lump of cold pizza in my throat was this heavy question: If everything I remember about being a kid is wrong, what have I subconsciously chosen NOT to remember?

This is why I think I may have been sexually abused a child. I don’t know by who, or when, or why, but it does go to explain a few things. My little brother, for example, perhaps not completely under the control of the legion of the bone-queens by the efforts of Rainbow Brite, Twink and the rest of the Color Kids, must have witnessed me being abused by some as-yet-unidentified member of the family or circle of friends and is now attempting to act out this grim scene of cruelty on other boys, usually dressed Hannah Montana.



Perhaps this recent spate of seeking out my once-favorite shows and learning them to be utter drivel is my own subconscious way of exposing my own self-deceit, and forcing myself to dredge and confront these awful truths about my abusive childhood in the hopes of exorcising these demons that have tormented lo these many years.

Then again, maybe I was just a stupid kid who didn’t know any better. I mean, I used to really like hot dogs. I also used to believe a man got a woman pregnant by peeing on her. You can thank my older brother for that one, though, I have to give him props for figuring out the penis was involved at such a young age.

TV shows, movies, cars, music, and just about any other tangible thing that can be quantified and categorized, almost always ends up like Burning Man: the last year you went was the last year it was cool. I have numerous friends and family members that constantly winge and bellyache bout the quality of TV and films and toasters and lawn equipment these days, invariably concluding that “things were a lot better back in the day.” I myself am guilty of this when I watch a few minutes of Code Lyoko, my six-year-old nephew’s favorite cartoon. Incidentally, if anyone can explain this stupid show to me, you’d be doing me a favor. Even Wikipedia’s entry is less than enlightening, but it does indicate the show is French in origin, so I’m not sure that one’s even supposed to get it.

In any case, what these naysayers fail to realize is that EVERY generation thinks they had it better, that their lives were simpler, that they really knew the score and that they had cornered the market on wholesome living, American style. The fact that it’s all bullshit. By every quantifiable variable, life, in virtually every capacity, gets better every day. The average cost of living decreases, while the quality of life increases. The average American lives significantly better and longer than out counterparts only 100 years ago. Our food is better, our hygiene is better, our education, medicine, and pretty much anything else you can think of, is better than it was even ten years ago.

Okay, so I wasn’t abused as a child, unless you count the endlessly mean and embarrassing things my older brother did to me, which I do. I was, however, among the first generation of children in America to grow up in an entirely mediated world, even in the backwoods of Louisiana. It was no coincidence that my favorite superheroes were toys and puzzles and video games before they ever graced my television screen. I was among the first American children to be subjected to, and totally buy into mass merchandising, tie-in promotions and subliminal advertising, and now I’m finally old enough to resent it.




On the other hand, though, Voltron was totally awesome.