Role model envy

I've been watching a lot of Rescue Heroes with my son recently and I'm starting to get a bit of a complex. The screen is filled with jaws that look like they've been chipped out of solid granite and bulging biceps that stretch their shirts to breaking point, and that's just the women. And what about those feet? Jeez, if those old wives' tales are true about the similarity in dimensions between your feet and your pecker, those boys must be packing a load or two.
Peering into the mirror this morning, a little worse for wear from last night's winefest, I couldn't help but notice a lack of chiseled granite. The eyes that were staring out at me from the squished mixed color playdoh features would not make hero material. Their names are even chunky, like Rocky Canyon and Jack Hammer, so called because they rescued someone in a canyon and a building site respectively. Knowing my luck, I'd probably rescue someone in a sanitary towel factory and get called... oh well, you get the drift.


So why all this self loathing I hear you ask? USA TV broadcasts went digital recently and our old television ceased to work, except for religious channels that still come in loud and clear. Go figure. We are too stingy to pay for cable, especially when the content is universally crap, so we have endured endless British corny sitcoms on Channel 9 (public television) and re reruns of the Antique Roadshow in order to have the occasional great program to watch. This, of course, all ceased when Alex found Elmo and Bob the Builder (now there's a couple of role models I could aspire to).
Unfortunately for us, even with the new digital converter box, we have now lost channel 9 and Alex now gets his cartoon fix from a channel called Qubo which features a lot of Rescue Heroes.
I like to sit with him and share his viewing, but these heroes are wearing me out.