Orphans, Bigamists, and “Science” Oh My!

Because we’ve been spending more time outside thanks to the stupid nice weather (which we’ll still have to do even when the weather gets hot and miserable because Gabe LOVES his swimming pool and will happily spend an hour or two in it every day once it gets warm enough), there hasn’t been much time to create any new bedroom drama. So, I decided to follow a thread that I started with my last post: kids’ shows.

Now, these posts might not be completely relevant to anyone who doesn’t have children under the age of five or six, but you should read them even if they aren’t entirely relevant. You should read them because, hey, you never know. Someday you might be asked to babysit someone’s kid and you’ll want an idea of what might be worth sitting in front of with the kid and what might offer you the perfect opportunity to take a shower or a dump while the kid is otherwise occupied (yes, I have to plan these activities around Gabe’s distraction level, that’s what being a parent is all about: compromising your simple, basic comforts like showers and dumps, both of which you will be forced to do as fast and enjoyment free as possible).

When possible, I will also include pictures of Gabe as the show in question is on, so you can appropriately gauge his distraction level (hinting sometimes at its quality and sometimes at Gabe’s tastes).

Note: Because, as usual, I typed this up the day before posting, I didn't actually have ANY pictures available yet to post. Now, we've missed Gabe's opportunity to watch two of these three shows until later in the day. So, instead of pictures of Gabe vegging in front of the TV, I'll just include two videos along the way instead.

This first video is one of what is rapidly becoming a morning ritual for us. Every morning, Gabe joins Libby in the bathroom while she's getting ready for work. He always starts by brushing his teeth (which he loves to do--though his version is putting the toothbrush under the water and sucking all the droplets from the bristles, there's no actual brushing involved), and then Libby puts some makeup on him as she finishes herself.

Orphans, Bigamists, and “Science” Oh My!

At first I thought I would hit each network in order, listing and commenting on shows as they start early in the morning and moving through the day. Then I realized that I would have to post comments on something like one hundred different shows. This isn’t out of the question because, obviously, I’m full of inspired curmudgeonism for just about everything, and I could easily expound on the qualities of that many shows. However, it would mean that I would have to honestly watch many shows that, if they were on, I was, at best, listening to in the background while we messed with something else. Most of the time, even with the shows that I sort of like, I’m not really paying attention to the TV. I’ve learned to almost doze with my eyes open thanks to his shows—a skill that will no doubt come in handy should I ever become a member of congress or decide to go back to school again.

So, instead, I’m just going to hit on several of the shows that I feel are worth mentioning. I’ll try to keep them clumped together by their networks if I can, just to ease the confusion, but no promises.

I’ll start off with three Nick Jr. shows (they also air on Noggin).

“Max and Ruby”

The biggest problem that I have with Max and Ruby is that social services hasn’t stepped in to take custody of these obviously neglected children from their grandmother, who, I assume, has custody of them. At first, I thought maybe they didn’t even have parents—perhaps they were eaten by a wolf, being giant, fat rabbits that any wolf would abandon its pack to get a hold of—but then, last week, Libby and I noticed a picture hanging up in Max and Ruby’s living room of the two of them standing with two parents. Since the parents have NEVER been in the show, and the only guardian that ever does make an appearance is their grandmother, I’ve concluded that the parents must be negligent drug dealers or, possibly, spies. Either way, they are never home.

Most of the time, Ruby is in charge of everything (note: Ruby is the older sister, and she’s supposed to be somewhere in the 7-9 year old range, I guess, and Max is probably supposed to be 3-4). She has to make Max his meals, get him dressed, make sure he bathes, entertain him, and still try to meet all of the ridiculous requirements set forth by the budding young cult she’s a member of, the Bunny Scouts. It doesn’t help that Max is a “mischievous” simpleton who actively tries to spoil every nice thing Ruby tries to do.

Now, this might make me sound sympathetic to Ruby, but I’m not. I think she’s a manipulative little bitch, not to put too fine a point on it. She’s prudish, priggish, dowdy, and controlling. She has an unwavering idea of how things “should be” in her little world and she is almost oppressive in her attempts to bend Max to her will.

Max, I suppose, is supposed to be a “free spirit” or something. He doesn’t listen, refuses to cooperate, and usually causes no end of trouble in each episode. Yet, somehow, he always ends up being “right,” inadvertently solving whatever dilemma they are facing with his acutely simplistic and painfully myopic insistence on doing whatever the hell happens to catch his fancy at the time. In this sense, he’s very much like my own two year old son (only I would never dare use words with such negative connotations when talking about the way Gabe never listens, does whatever the hell he wants, and focuses with stubborn glee on doing the one thing he absolutely shouldn’t be doing at the time—with Gabe, it’s cute, with cartoon characters, it’s a bad example and it makes me a touch cranky).

As for Grandma, she’s pretty much a useless piece of tit meat as far as I’m concerned. Sure, she’s supportive of whatever lame-brained scheme Ruby has concocted and its pathetic end result (laughing at her semi-literate plays, “enjoying” her abominations of cooking, pretending the artwork she’s proudly presenting doesn’t look like it was done by a handicapped proto-human, those sorts of things), but she never actually DOES anything. Not once has she offered her grandchildren any sort of care. She doesn’t even live particularly close to them. She just pops in at her leisure, leaving the kids to fend for themselves somehow after praising them for churning out whatever mediocrity they’re currently working on. I’m not entirely sure what kind of message the show is supposed to be sending to kids, but to me it seems to be supporting leaving kids unattended as a rule.

That isn’t to say that I don’t occasionally enjoy parts of the show. I mostly try not to watch it, and Gabe, for some reason, sort of enjoys it from time to time (I blame Libby because she’ll watch it and seems to get a kick out of it most of the time), but, every once in awhile, I find myself smiling at it. Mostly it happens when Max is getting ready to do something that he knows he’s not supposed to. In these instances, he gets an evil little, shit-eating grin on his face that I find quite charming. Otherwise, though, I find the show to be annoying tripe of the first order.

“The Backyardigans”

Gabe during Backyardigans. In a few minutes, we start to play the "Glh Glh" game (it's the video at the end).

About a year and a half ago, when I started making a conscious effort to make sure whatever was on the TV—if the TV was on, obviously—was kid friendly, I started by watching Nick Jr. Mostly I did this because it was before we had digital cable and, aside from PBS, it was the only channel we had that played kids shows (disregarding Cartoon Network, of course, since its stuff is mostly appropriate for kids over ten years old who have been repeatedly hit on the head with blunt, heavy objects—except for “Chowder,” which I think is pretty funny). And, if I sat through the Nick Jr. stuff, eventually they would show some Spongebob or Fairlyodd Parents, both of which are pretty funny and usually watchable. Anyway, during this time, I became familiar with the range of shows on there at the time. Most of those shows are still on Nick Jr., but the ones that aren’t are still shown, usually ad nauseum, on Noggin (which, apparently, is the network where old Nickelodeon shows go to die), and the first one that I decided was nearly enjoyable was “The Backyardigans.”

Enjoyable though they are, I feel it’s necessary to start by shining a little light on this show’s dirty little secret. The Backyardigans are the children of bigamists—possibly Mormons. How do I know this, you might ask. Simple, I have seen about four episodes of “Big Love,” so I am obviously an expert on the subject of managing multiple spouses. One of the aspects that I found most interesting about this show (and there weren’t many, which was why I only made it through the first four or five episodes before deciding that bigamy involved far more talking and far less sex with multiple wives than I found interesting) was the “compound” that Bill Paxton built for his three wives and their kids. The houses shared a common backyard that was fenced off from the rest of the neighborhood, easily connecting all of the houses from the prying eyes of nosy neighbors.

And the Backyardigans have a setup that is almost exactly the same. The four or five houses that each kid comes from (they usually only show three of them) shares a common backyard where they all have their imaginative adventures (thus the name).

And I’m not passing judgment of any sort here. I personally don’t have a problem with bigamy—and by that I mean that I don’t care even a wit that it exists in some places and cultures. I do, however, have a problem with the idea as a practical application. I can’t imagine why anyone would ever choose to take on the responsibilities of multiple families and spouses. Keeping up with one child and one wife is plenty for me, and anyone who disagrees probably isn’t doing a very good job with the one’s he’s got. But, I guess if people can make it work, I wish them all the “whatever” at my disposal.

So, if you have a problem with bigamy, I wouldn’t recommend Backyardigans. I mean, they never actually SAY anything about their “community,” but I’m sure there is some subversive, subtle, underlying tones that people could pick up on if they wanted to(and I’m sure there is someone out there who has devoted WAY too much time to it, like the people who want Spongebob banned for being gay propaganda). Because, really, you CAN pick up on just about anything if you really, really want to.

Otherwise, I find the show to be pretty clever. The songs are sometimes witty well beyond the years of the intended viewing audience, and I always appreciate it when writers include content that is over the head of their audience for the benefit of the parents who have to sit through it too. Here is “Racing Day," one of the more amusing songs from the show. I wish I could show a video, but I think Nickelodeon is owned by Viacom, and they have a bug up their butt about their shows being on youtube, so I guess you’ll just have to listen to the song for free on Amazon instead.

As for Gabe, he’s mostly indifferent to the show despite the fact that I started singing the theme song to him when he was about six months old and still try to encourage him to dance to it whenever it comes on (actually, now that I think about it, this might be the exact reason why he doesn’t like it. Great, I’m raising a critic). He SHOULD like it. It’s colorful and has singing in it, two of his favorite things right now. The lesson, obviously, is that kids will like whatever they damn well feel like liking and their parents can’t do much more than try to point them in the right direction and be disappointed when it doesn’t work out. Oh well.

“Go Diego Go”

I feel a little guilty that two of the shows I’m covering today are two of the shows that I have the biggest problem with. I feel like maybe I’m peaking a little too early.

But I do hate Diego. Actually, this is one of the only shows that I absolutely refuse to watch, which often pisses Gabe off. Diego plays at random intervals through the day, first in the morning on Nick Jr., sometimes more than once, then through the late afternoon and evening on Noggin, and it almost always follows something that I don’t mind. So, usually, Gabe gets to hear the first part of Diego’s theme song playing—enough for him to start saying, “Dee! Dee!”—and then I change the channel. Often he cries. Always he gives me a look far dirtier than someone his age should be capable of. He loves him some Diego. And Dora. But Dora I don’t have the same kind of problem with and I’ll get back to her another day anyhow.

I hate Diego because all of the references within the show, even the very concept of the plots for each episode, CLAIM to be “science” or “scientific” in nature. They are rescuing animals. They give random nature factoids about whatever animal they happen to be saving. They pull out little tidbits about the animal’s habitat or ecosystem or SOMETHING. They use the jargon, and they use it well enough for kids to THINK they are learning about science.

But then they plunge headlong into fantasy and the impossible—making them seem real and plausible. Take his goddamn Rescue Pack, for instance. It can turn into ANYTHING, clearly defying any of a number of laws of nature, physics, and probably decency itself. The animals in his shows invariably go through some magic transformation as they age from being a baby into adulthood right before their very eyes. And speaking of animals, SOME of the animals talk (not all of them because, apparently, some of them ARE STILL JUST ANIMALS).

Now, the most frustrating thing about this show, to me, is that its claims to be “science” infuriate me—and I’m really nowhere near a science-nazi. In fact, I barely even care about science, except for the many ways that it can invent diet sodas that I love (only to be taken away a year later by the heartless soda companies). And maybe how it will cure the heart disease I’m sure I’ll have later in life (partly due, I’m sure, to the side effects of loving diet soda). Otherwise, science is little more than a trivial curiosity to me—random bits of information that I can digest and pull back up later to use in completely useless context (which, really, is how my brain digests ALL information). But Diego’s irreverence has made me care about how science is being mistreated in this show, and that makes me even angrier than I get at the show for screwing up the good name of science in the first place! And then that makes me angry that I’m getting angry about something so stupid, so I end up even angrier. And, before we’re even ten minutes into the show, I’m ready to tear Diego’s stupid head off his stupid body and shove it up his stupid ass and then I’ll transform Rescue Pack into an atom bomb and blowing the hell out of his whole stupid cartoon universe.

But that would likely kill Dora, too, who I don’t have the same kind of problem with. And that just wouldn’t be fair. Plus I can’t interact with cartoon characters in that way. So I just leave the room or change the channel instead.

But, man, I hate Diego. I don’t know why, exactly, he riles me up the way he does, but he does. And he DAMN sure better watch his back if he’s ever in my neck of the woods because me and Science are going to put to the test the probability of Rescue Pack actually functioning like he thinks it will when we tie him up with kite string and drop him down the World’s Largest Hand Dug Well. Then we’ll see who needs rescuing.

Man, I’m feeling all gangsta right now, threatening imaginary violence on an eight year old cartoon character. I’m pretty tough. Think I’m going to go eat some walnuts. Not cracked with my own hands, of course. Pre-shelled, and cut into halves so I don’t choke. But tough.

For some reason we're not quite sure of, Gabe has been saying "glh glh" for "light" for about six months now. I like to think it's because he's so smart he's just pronouncing the silent letters in the word (and the "l"), but somehow I doubt that's the case. We usually play this game at least once a day, sometimes for fifteen or twenty minutes. The electric company surely must love us.