MONDO EXTRAS

Little House On The Prairie: Whisper Country

The next day, she goes to school, but of course, there are no children. They are all being kept home, because the grapevine is strong in spite of the fact that no one in town ever talks or goes outside the house unnecessarily. I don't know how word spread, given that there's no store and no post office, but spread it did. Mary sadly takes in her deserted classroom, apparently disappointed that it took her about three days to drive all the children away. Good one, nerd. She sits at the desk and cries, defeated. Score one for the nonbelievers in education.

Ingalls Family Home. Ma is looking through a catalogue, fantasizing about all the things that she'll never have the money to buy unless she goes to work for Nellie. Charles enters the room, lights his pipe, begins filling the house with second-hand smoke, and comments on the "good book" she must be reading. Caroline says she's reviewing a giant book of styles and patterns for dresses. They're all probably offensively trashy dresses. But she smiles anyway, because Ma pretty much only knows dresses and cooking and psychological manipulation of her children. We hear the sound of a wagon outside. Pa immediately suspects Doc Baker is looking for coffee, because he's apparently quite the mooch. But when he opens the door, Mary is there. Having... hitched a ride? Called someone? No one knows. She's just standing there weeping, and after dumping off her possessions on Pa, she goes and hurls herself on the floor in front of Ma, burying her head in Ma's lap. She sobs and sobs, and Ma rubs her hair, like, "What's with her this time?"

Something like the next day, we are at a familiar stretch of Ingalls prairie, and Pa is crossing, a tiny figure against a big sky, to approach Mary. Who, of course, is sitting on a rock feeling sorry for herself. When he gets there, he asks her about the fact that she didn't have breakfast, and she whimpers that she wasn't hungry. She goes on to moan that it was her "first real teaching job," and she feels like she blew it. Pa, clearly implying that she did mess it up, says, "You had plenty of help." "Help"? You asshole. They called her a spell-casting whore. Can we have a little more clarity on who the bad guys are? God. Mary mutters about how the people up there think Miss Peel can work magic, and how Miss Peel hates schools and books. And, of course, Mary. Though many hate Mary, in fairness. Pa kind of gives her this shrugging "You're right; you had reason to leave" that makes it clear that he only believes this technically, and he is very disappointed in her. Mary repeats how Miss Peel told terrible lies so nobody would send their kids to school. Pa's all, "Well, it's over now, it doesn't matter," and of course, as he intends, Mary spins around hollering about how it does too matter. She does the through-her-nose voice that almost sounds like a cartoon as she says that Pa, of course, would hate it if people thought bad things about him. You can almost hear his mind saying, "Ho-ho-ho, little girl, that would never happen. For I am Pa!" Mary insists that the children were beginning to open up to her and learn, which: not that we saw, and then she says that she "opened a door" and Miss Peel "slammed it shut." Fond of ourselves for a teenager, aren't we? "She ruined our school," Mary mopes. Pa agrees, and says that "bigots are just there, like the mountains. Just as hard to change." So why bother, really? "Well, somebody ought to do something," Mary says. Sigh. Can we just GET this OVER with? Can we just GET on our HIGH horse and GO? Pa tells her, "It would take somebody pretty strong." How strong? Ingalls strong. Strong like ox! Of course, this causes Mary to decide that she will go and move the bigot mountains, blah blah blah, she's going back, blah blah blah, forty miles in the wagon to interrupt Miss Peel's planned service, blah blah blah, Pa wants to help, blah blah blah, Mary wants to handle it herself, although he can watch. Pa does that proud smirk thing that always drives me bazoo when I watch the reruns, because he is so patronizing, God. Every time his daughters do anything intelligent or brave, it's like all he can think is, "I like 'em feisty!" He tells her to inform Ma of their departure. And then Mary says, "You know something? She's going to be sorry she got my dander up." My DVD does not include a cut back to Pa making another patronizing face recognizing how adorably determined Mary is being about the hateful witch-doctor people, but I feel sure there must have initially been one.

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Comments

Little House On The Prairie: Whisper Country

The next day, she goes to school, but of course, there are no children. They are all being kept home, because the grapevine is strong in spite of the fact that no one in town ever talks or goes outside the house unnecessarily. I don't know how word spread, given that there's no store and no post office, but spread it did. Mary sadly takes in her deserted classroom, apparently disappointed that it took her about three days to drive all the children away. Good one, nerd. She sits at the desk and cries, defeated. Score one for the nonbelievers in education.

Ingalls Family Home. Ma is looking through a catalogue, fantasizing about all the things that she'll never have the money to buy unless she goes to work for Nellie. Charles enters the room, lights his pipe, begins filling the house with second-hand smoke, and comments on the "good book" she must be reading. Caroline says she's reviewing a giant book of styles and patterns for dresses. They're all probably offensively trashy dresses. But she smiles anyway, because Ma pretty much only knows dresses and cooking and psychological manipulation of her children. We hear the sound of a wagon outside. Pa immediately suspects Doc Baker is looking for coffee, because he's apparently quite the mooch. But when he opens the door, Mary is there. Having... hitched a ride? Called someone? No one knows. She's just standing there weeping, and after dumping off her possessions on Pa, she goes and hurls herself on the floor in front of Ma, burying her head in Ma's lap. She sobs and sobs, and Ma rubs her hair, like, "What's with her this time?"

Something like the next day, we are at a familiar stretch of Ingalls prairie, and Pa is crossing, a tiny figure against a big sky, to approach Mary. Who, of course, is sitting on a rock feeling sorry for herself. When he gets there, he asks her about the fact that she didn't have breakfast, and she whimpers that she wasn't hungry. She goes on to moan that it was her "first real teaching job," and she feels like she blew it. Pa, clearly implying that she did mess it up, says, "You had plenty of help." "Help"? You asshole. They called her a spell-casting whore. Can we have a little more clarity on who the bad guys are? God. Mary mutters about how the people up there think Miss Peel can work magic, and how Miss Peel hates schools and books. And, of course, Mary. Though many hate Mary, in fairness. Pa kind of gives her this shrugging "You're right; you had reason to leave" that makes it clear that he only believes this technically, and he is very disappointed in her. Mary repeats how Miss Peel told terrible lies so nobody would send their kids to school. Pa's all, "Well, it's over now, it doesn't matter," and of course, as he intends, Mary spins around hollering about how it does too matter. She does the through-her-nose voice that almost sounds like a cartoon as she says that Pa, of course, would hate it if people thought bad things about him. You can almost hear his mind saying, "Ho-ho-ho, little girl, that would never happen. For I am Pa!" Mary insists that the children were beginning to open up to her and learn, which: not that we saw, and then she says that she "opened a door" and Miss Peel "slammed it shut." Fond of ourselves for a teenager, aren't we? "She ruined our school," Mary mopes. Pa agrees, and says that "bigots are just there, like the mountains. Just as hard to change." So why bother, really? "Well, somebody ought to do something," Mary says. Sigh. Can we just GET this OVER with? Can we just GET on our HIGH horse and GO? Pa tells her, "It would take somebody pretty strong." How strong? Ingalls strong. Strong like ox! Of course, this causes Mary to decide that she will go and move the bigot mountains, blah blah blah, she's going back, blah blah blah, forty miles in the wagon to interrupt Miss Peel's planned service, blah blah blah, Pa wants to help, blah blah blah, Mary wants to handle it herself, although he can watch. Pa does that proud smirk thing that always drives me bazoo when I watch the reruns, because he is so patronizing, God. Every time his daughters do anything intelligent or brave, it's like all he can think is, "I like 'em feisty!" He tells her to inform Ma of their departure. And then Mary says, "You know something? She's going to be sorry she got my dander up." My DVD does not include a cut back to Pa making another patronizing face recognizing how adorably determined Mary is being about the hateful witch-doctor people, but I feel sure there must have initially been one.

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Get the most of your experience.
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See content relevant to you based on what your friends are reading and watching.

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