So I pour myself a glass of red wine, settle in with a fresh pair of flannel pajamas and start channeling my inner geek with glee. Primetime or not, I love the Bee. I love it. I love the celebration of intelligence, the championing of nerd-ship, of the brotherhood of brainiac. This is why the Bee should be on primetime network television. So that the Steve Jobs in all of us gets some real screen time. So that the incredible freakiness of spelling into your hand has an audience. A chance to shine. A chance to let every kid who spends his evenings rocking back and forth in his bedroom dreading the misery of junior high see that it is going to be okay. That geekiness has a freaking point! The Bee is a nerd manifesto! WHOO-HOO! —West Coast Bee Call (Throwing Things)
Detailed commentary on last night’s spelling bee championship, which I watched with the family.
A screenwriter couldn’t possibly have come up with the victory interview, in which the winner says he prefers math and music to spelling because spelling is “just memorization.” After the reporter invites him to give his opinion of the bee now, the kid pauses for a long, long time and says, “Does that mean I’m supposed to like it more now?”
Way to put a serrefine on that post-competition enthusiasm.
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Representing the Humanities at Accepted Students Day.
The daughter opens another show. This weekend only.