Wading in the Velvet Sea

After all, it’s the parents putting the crap in the first place. It’s not like two-years are sitting on the floor, probably in a poop-filled diaper, watching my main Monster get his Oreo fix on, then grabbing the keys, driving down to the supermarket, and filling up the SUV with cookies. Hell no. These kids haven’t even learned the concept of the past tense of verbs yet, never mind the operation of major vehicles. And call me crazy, but even if you’ve found yourself a baby with insanely advanced motor skills, I doubt they could reach the pedals, and even if they could, I doubt they have any money with which to purchase unhealthy treats, and if the kid’s got THAT, well, the kid deserves the damn cookie, I suppose. That's one talented toddler.

Isn’t this just another way to displace parental blame? Did some parent actually sue Cookie Monster for their kid’s diabetes? Is this why this whole thing got started? The person dumb enough to do this probably doesn’t know that Cookie Monster is a fucking puppet. Morons. Anything’s possible. I saw a married couple on “Queer Eye” last night who didn’t know how to open a bottle of wine. It’s possible. (One of the more bizarre things I’ve ever seen…the Fab Five might as well have asked them to construct a full-scale replica of the Hubble telescope rather than ask them to operate a corkscrew.)

I just don’t get it. Is anyone looking forward to songs like, “G is for guava, that’s good enough for me!” I mean, where does it stop? Do Bert and Ernie start going to Pilates together? Does The Count start counting carbs? (One…one delicious carb! Ah ah ah!”) Does the Swedish chef have to alter his recipes? Does Aloysius Snuffleupagus start cross-training? Where will it end, people?

(Full disclosure: I had to look up the name “Aloysius Snuffleupagus”, although I was looking to see how to spell “Mr. Snuffleupagus”. I had no idea he had a first name. I had no idea it was Aloysius. If you needed further proof that the writers of this show were on serious drugs, look no further.)

(OK, last parenthetical paragraph: when I Googled Snuffy’s name, I came across this site, which has a historical census apparently of every inhabitant ever on Sesame Street. Either I have a bad memory or that street is 17 miles long, cuz damn, a lot of names there. Why Sesame Street needed a beat poet named Ferlengheti, I’ll never know. Along with why anyone thought it necessary to put that information on the Internet. Some things are best left forgotten. Like the band Winger, for instance. And this is the first and last time in history that Kip Winger and Aloysius Snuffleupagus are ever simultaneously discussed.)

I don’t mean to belittle the efforts of the show, but this whole cookie controversy isn’t the only thing they screwed up. Take a bite out of this morsel (oooh, a pun!) from the CNN article: “In one taping, Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist taught Elmo to exercise--- jumping up and down.” Since when do you have to teach toddlers to jump up and down? Wouldn’t a better service be teaching them how NOT to do that? Isn’t that more valuable? I’m no expert or nothing, but the last time I was around a good number of little tykes, they had no problem jumping around for at least 12 hours, and I’m pretty sure they didn’t learn it from Senator Frist. Next thing you know, they’ll employ Tom Delay to teach kids to break lamps when parents leave the room for just a minute. Unreal.

When I was a kid, my mom put an Oreo in my lunch every day. And I don’t mean like, a normal Oreo. I’m talking an individually wrapped Oreo the size of a human kidney. I know for a fact that they don’t make these things anymore, but I didn’t gain any weight from these bad boys. I can’t remember the names of these Oreos-on-steroids. I think they might have been called “Sweet Jesus, Look At the Size of this Freakin’ Oreo!” Not sure.

Point is: if I had ballooned up as a kid, I woulda seen an apple in my lunchbox soon after. But I had the metabolism of a crack-whore, like most kids, so I took unwitting advantage of eating those foods at the one time they wouldn’t go directly into my hips. My mom took responsibility then. Is it wrong for me to think moms and dads still should now? “Sesame Street” seems to think so.

I’m not trying to completely rain on their parade or anything. I get that showing puppets enjoying grapes over say, a pepperoni pizza, can’t hurt. If the kid doesn’t see Cookie Monster attack a plate of cookies like Ron Artest attacks fans, the kid won’t emulate him. I get it, I do. Just not sure what to make of this transition, is all.

Just like I’m not sure what to do with the “Aloysius Snuffleupagus” knowledge that I’ve obtained in the research of this essay.