Row the Roses

Yesterday I watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang on cable. I haven't seen it since I was a kid. Funny how it's not the same movie anymore. Like who knew the old dudes were singing "grow the roses" and not "row the rowses" espeacialy in light of the fact that they were all holding oars and buoys.
What's strange is how experience colours the way we internalize a story. IZ says "Mummy, you know, Lost is so stupid. How they could be in the jungle and still living in a big nice house?" 'tis true-'tis true.
One of the things that nauseates me about acadaemia is this masculine fetish for all that is supposedly objective and exegetical. I happen to like eisegesis seasoned with subjectivity. It's a lot more honest isn't it? and it does away with the bullshit of "transparency" in the prologue where scholars spew their my-space profile in an attempt to expose their personal bias up front and personal like that will somehow make them more impartial. Who determined that reading out of something is better than reading in to it? Who said there was any difference betwixt the two? As I see it- it's a dialogue and whoever wrote the thing has no more rights to the story than I do. It all boils down to who is the authority- objectivity in scholarship is a notion that is founded on the belief that the only view that is valid and untainted is the one held by the white well-to-do male who's piggy backed off of a long line of white well-to-do males and have have had the monopoly on Truth passed on to them as if it were a fraternity handshake.
Because here's the thing, now I know that the words are "grow the roses", I still acknowledge the ironic homonymous onomatopoeia in the pantomimed rowing of aforementioned old dudes with oars and no one can tell me it's not there.