When I was five and six, my mom would send me to stay with my blind uncle Tate. He couldn't hear shit; you'd have to yell at him. And then he could see even less! So every time I'd come over, he'd give me burnt Mac and Cheese, sit me in front of the television, and put The Fox and The Hound in the VHS, while he tended to chickens and shit.
I watched that movie countless time. It really shaped who I am, what I want to do as a filmmaker, and my sense of humor.
Well, apparently my older cousin Jeffrey had a bad habit of swapping out the cassettes with the cases, and it wasn't until I was thirteen that I realized The Fox and The Hound was actually animated and not about Malcolm McDowell ruling Imperial Rome.
I’ll always remember Uncle Tate, managed to run a farm for forty years without sight, then gets shot for sleeping with another man’s wife. I still believe it was an honest mistake. He was blind after all.




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