Christopher F Reidy
Christopher Reidy
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CFR BLOG PAGE

The thoughts & Musings of Christopher F. Reidy*

NOTE: Apparently this webpage has some glitches. It tends to randomly switch out visual material.  Why?  Don't ask me.  So, if a pic doesn't match the text...it doesn't!  Rest assured I am trying to amend this problem.  When I get around to it.

*(may contain misuse of apostrophes, miss spellings, overabundance of semi-colons,  wrong word usage, etc.
Please pardon our appearance while we create a new blog experience for you!)

​ALSO: 
Please find a complete index of blog posts on the homepage, for your convenience!

AND YET ANOTHER NOTE:
The visual switcheroos on these blogs have reached a point where there's no way I can correct them all, so I'm just going to leave them be.  If they don't match the text, just think of them as whimsical funsies decorating the text.  I will continue to supply pictures; but I cannot guarantee their context: much like my mind.
Thank you for your patience!

A FURTHER NOTE:
I try to keep this website relatively free of anything truly morally reprehensible or obscene.  However, in the pursuit of honesty; I will be quite frank about sexuality; as I feel one should be.  To  wit: this website is not for children.  It is decidedly "adult"; although not necessarily not "childish."  I do not feel it is suitable, in some instances, for anyone below the age of 17.  Or maybe a very mature 16...or 15 even.  
THIS WEBSITE IS RATED: PG-15

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WWUWD?

2/25/2021

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About two years ago, my husband and I travelled to the Orlando area for some good old fashioned theme parking.  We went to Universal Studios and the first thing we did was get on the Incredible Hulk roller coaster.  When did roller coasters become torture devices?  Or am I just at the age of thrill ride diminishment of returns?  About four years ago we went to King's Dominion which is all about roller coasters and I recall at the end of that day I was physically sore.  My old bones had been rattled.  I had the sad realization as to why a lot of the disclaimer/warning sings on most of the rides always warned old people not to ride.  You reach a point in time when you simply can't take it physically.  Perhaps this is a sad day of revelation.  Or perhaps not: you finally have an excuse not to ride a roller coaster.  Or for me; something that flings you into the sky at high rates of speed or plunges you into a freefall at a high rate of speed.
So, while in Orlando, my request to visit the Polynesian Resort at Walt Disney World was granted.  I hadn't been there since the early 80's.  My dad was in the Marine Corps. reserves and every summer he'd hitch up a trailer and we'd head south to live in it while he did Marine stuff.  Usually in North Carolina or Virginia.  And every now and then we'd go further south and hook up the Kon-Tiki (that was the name of the trailer brand) at Fort Wilderness.  Fort Wilderness is WDW's campground.  It was also the former home of River Country, one of the first water parks in the country.  One of the most charming elements of WDW is the launch that travels between the hotels and the campground.  We used to take it over to the Polynesian and hang out there.  It had the best pool in the resort, the best beach and the best lobby.  It was just, we thought, the best part of the whole place.  Maybe even better than The Magic Kingdom.  So, on this 2019 revisit I was excited to go back to this very dear to my heart place.  Mostly what I wanted to do was drink in the atmosphere of the hotel's lobby.  Smells revive memories like nothing else and the scent in that lobby was amazing.  A two story rock fountain/waterfall covered with thousands of tropical plants.  It really was like being in the South Seas.  Oh I couldn't wait to relive it!
WWUWD?
I tell you what Uncle Walt would do.  He'd wreck it, Ralph.  
The fountain and its water and its waterfall and its plantings and its one of kind fragrance were gone.  In its place was a tacky statue of the hotel's mascot.  Some call him Tikiman (although he's officially named Maui) or Tikigod.  I always called him Trader Sam.  Now I call him Traitor Sam.  The lobby, once spectacular, was now no more special than any Super 8 with a tropical theme.  Why Uncle Walt?  Why?  My guess is that the upkeep of the water-garden was too expensive. What price joy?  I'm guessing around a half mil.
We went out to the formerly sublime swimming area with its rock slides and waterfalls and kidney shaped pools.  That too was gone.  Ripped out to make room for some cheezy, kiddie friendly mini-waterpark: crowned by a completely out of synch volcano(?).  The beach was roped off.  No more swimming in the lake.  (That however, I could understand.  I mean, when alligators that don't have alarm clocks in their stomachs, become actual threats to life, you kinda have to put up that rope.  I often wonder if I'd ever been in the presence of alligators in the many hours I'd spent in Bay Lake.  I'd certainly been in the presence of Naegleria fowleria bacteria, which had closed down River Country.  It still sits there to this day, abandoned and falling to ruin.  Why Uncle Walt?  My guess is it would be too expensive to repurpose it.  Let the alligators reclaim it). And paying for a bio-hazard clean-up?  They'd lose more money than they did on John Carter and Mars Needs Moms combined.
We got on the monorail (which I was happy (and shocked) to find was still free of charge) and did a circuit around the park.  Something though, was ineffably lost. Not just River Country--which to a twelve year-old was pretty awesome. Maybe it was my youth that had flown away like a sweet bird; but I don't think so.  It's was a fundamental change in the outlook of the Disney corporation.  Or was it?
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Maybe Uncle Walt was always cheap.  Maybe he wasn't quite as nice a guy as he had us all thinking.  Always on the cutting edge of promotion; Walt was one of the first to realize the brainwashing potential of television.  He washed our brains in his faux Americana; using himself as guinea pig in a sharkskin suit. What else but parsimony could explain The Wonderful World of Disney on Sunday nights back in the 70's when you were lucky if you got maybe a couple of Donald Duck vs. Chip and Dale shorts.  Sure kids, here's three of our most annoying and violent characters to soothe your anxiety about school tomorrow!  The best thing about that show was the opening; but it was a bait and switch.  It lured you in with clips from the feature length animated classics and exciting goings-on at the park.  But the main offering was always some dry, dusty, beige colored boredom set out West.  Charlie, the Lonesome Cougar or The Living Desert.  Or some Saturday morning matinee dreck you'd already sat through.  Usually starring Dean Jones.  Bland as Wonder bread but still somehow off-putting (which could apply to either Dean or the films; usually both).  Stuff you knew, even as a kid, was lame and made on the cheap. The Million Dollar Duck is a good example.
​I don't once recall a single Mickey Mouse cartoon being aired on the program.  I'm from an entire generation of kids who wore Mickey Mouse t-shirts without benefit of ever actually having seen one of his cartoons.  Uncle Walt was withholding.  You wanna look at the mouse kid?  Buy the t-shirt and quit bothering me.  You wanna see Sleeping Beauty?  Wake up kid! I can still squeeze a couple of million out of it in a theatrical re-release.
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WWUWD? 
Well, apparently he's already done it.
So Uncle Walt now controls around 40% percent of the American entertainment industry.  Correct me if I'm wrong; but isn't that a monopoly?  Aren't they, like, illegal?  Didn't the phone company, perhaps one of the most powerful organizations in the history of the USA, have to split-up because of such goings-ons?  Didn't the movie industry itself have to divest of its own holdings in movie theaters?  Isn't Mickey Mouse supposed to be in the public domain?
Have you ever seen the executive building of Disney Corp. in Burbank?  It features the Seven Dwarfs blown up to gargantuan proportions.  Is that supposed to be ironic?  Is it supposed to be some kind of subliminal message along the lines of Mountains out of Mouseholes?  Why Uncle Walt?  Why?  It's creepy to make gigantic dwarfs.  It's perverse.  And they've been frozen into eternal subservience; having to hold up the rooflines.  Boy must their arms be tired! And why the Seven Dwarfs anyways?  Because they had a gemstone mine literally overflowing with karats: a bottomless pit of untold wealth, belching money into mine cars?  A little crass methinks.
They should tear that monstrosity down and replace it with a giant replica of The Death Star (which they now own).  It seems a much more fitting statement.  They could even put it on a turntable and affix it with a mega-laser and take out rival studios.
So, maybe we shouldn't ask the question: "WWUWD?"  We probably don't want to hear the answer.
And right now; all I want is my fountain back.
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    AUTHOR
    Christopher Reidy is from the Boston area.  He attended Boston University where he studied TV and film which eventually led him to Los Angeles.  There he did the Hollywood thing (which he wasn’t particularly good at) and eventually met his partner Joseph.  He was one of the co-founders of the short lived Off Hollywood Theatre Company which staged several of his original plays.  83 In the Shade is his first novel.  He also dabbles in screenplays, toys with short stories, and flirts with poetry.  Life brought him to bucolic Southwest Virginia where he now resides and is very active in community theatre. It may interest you to know Chris is officially an Irish citizen as well as an American. He also enjoys drawing and painting and looking after a passel of 
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    housecats and two turtles.

     

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