The Literate Kitty

As much as we (probably) hate to own up to it, most of us—to one degree or another—harbor a perverse desire to see Really Bad Things.  For some, that craving gets fulfilled via rags (or now, their online successors) dealing in sensational “news”… with headlines like “Batboy Eats Own Mother!” and “Woman Undergoes 128 Surgeries to Look Like Barbie!”. For others, it’s binging on trash TV, from the Jerry Springers of the world to gems like “ Toddlers in Tiaras ”. And for a lot of people, the wish to see bad stuff might take the form of the simple (but incredibly-annoying-to-others) act of always slowing waaaaaaaay down to rubberneck at any accident (on either side of the freeway). As for me, I’m much more fascinated with stories (whether true or figments of someone’s imagination) about how strange, warped, or downright evil that people can be. Why? Because, as scores of real stories attest, we never truly know what anyone else is thinking… plotting… or doing… from the merely...

Although I finished watching Netflix’s “13 Reasons Why” more than two weeks ago, it’s taken me a little while to corral my thoughts. (Granted, I’ve been busy, but attributing the length of time to only that would be disingenuous; this was one of those series which struck a chord or three.) Initially,  I purposefully bypassed “13”—not because I knew what the subject matter was (which I did), but because of an assumption that it was probably just another in a string of annoying, modern-teenagers-acting-out pieces (which, at my age, I’m SO OVER). I’m really glad I was wrong. And, I’m glad that curiosity finally led me to push the “play” button on my remote one night, while searching for something to watch as I worked out. For anyone who doesn’t know—and this is not a spoiler—“13” is about the suicide of a 17-year-old girl (“Hannah”)… all the events which inexorably led to her last and (very) final act, the parts that other people played (and, interestingly, how they were view...