The Kenny-From-South-Park Syndrome

Confession: I love South Park.

I don't watch it as often as I'd like, but oh, do I love South Park. 

Most importantly, I love its characters. My all-time fave is, hands down, Cartman. He is vile and cruel and just plain wrong, but I can't imagine my life without him. At all.

I also love someone else, though. Someone who doesn't get a lot of respect on the show. Or a lot of say.

Kenny McCormick.

He's the dude with the orange hoodie. The dude who dies in almost every episode. 

The dude no one can hear 'cause of his zipped up hoodie. 

His words come out like a weird, baboon-ish cry for help. To viewers, what Kenny's saying is hard to decode. But Kenny's friends have no problem figuring it out.

Of course, here comes the writing analogy.

Kenny's friends--Stan and Kyle and Cartman--are like critique partners. Whenever Kenny can't quite get his message across, they pull it out of him and make everyone else understand, too. Think about it: don't you consider yourself to be writing with a weird, baboon-ish voice in certain scenes? That nobody can get your point?

That's the Kenny-From-South-Park Syndrome.

And its cure is awesome critique partners.


Now tell me: have you suffered from Kenny-From-South-Park Syndrome lately? Do your crit partners keep you afloat during that baboon-ish phase?