When I got married and had a kid I told myself I wouldn’t let this article become a parenting column. Then again, I also told myself I wouldn’t get married and have a kid. Meanwhile I recently found myself on Facebook (yet another thing I told myself I’d never do – apparently my conviction lies only in my waffling) embroiled in a conversation with a pack of moms about the various shows on Nickelodeon’s Noggin network.
In what’s considered by the elitists to be a questionable parenting move, I often leave my boy parked in front of the boob tube – primarily so I can do other important things, like go on Facebook and read about how much my other friends are put out by their children. The best go-to station when you don’t have the inclination to actually screen what your child is watching is Noggin – the Nickelodeon’s pre-school indoctrination network which boasts a lack of commercial advertising, only to fill the void with mind-numbing marketing of its own products and endless plugs for some Devil’s workshop they call “The Fresh Beat Band” (WORST. SHOW. EVER.) Like working with asbestos, these things eventually permeate your system make your insides itch, with gratingly bizarre characters and hypnotizing tunes that end up dancing around in your head all day. And while they’re fundamentally good shows that teach kids all sorts of skills and aptitudes (that’s my “Disclaimer,” since pissing off Nickelodeon is the contemporary American equivalent of poking the KGB with a stick), too much of anything can eventually rub the parents a bit raw.
There’s the standard bearer of the mighty Nickelodeon Army, “Dora the Explorer,” a title that, as comedian Brian Regan once said, “only rhymes in the Kennedy household.” The objective here is to march over a bridge, through a forest and up a tall mountain until your child learns to speak broken Spanish. Then there’s “Ni-Hao, Kai Lan,” a Chinese version of the program which makes you wonder if, between Kai-Lan and that little Cuban chick Dora, Nickelodeon has completely fallen to the Communists – damn pinkos…
Speaking of Communists, there are several Canadian programs in the Noggin lineup – like “Franklin,” an uplifting show about a whiny little turtle who seemingly hates everything in the world. Then there’s “Toot and Puddle,” which sounds more like the activity in my son’s diaper, but is actually the story of two ambiguously gay piglets who travel the world together with their disposable dual income – not that there’s anything wrong with that (Disclaimer #2), and I believe it’s legal in Canada.
Taking a page from Coca-Cola and Jello Pudding Pops, Fatherhood author Bill Cosby has decided to blatantly push “The Cosby Brand” on a new generation with “Lil’ Bill.” I’m eagerly awaiting Paul Reiser’s Couplehood cartoon to come out on Cosby’s coattails. Meanwhile sitcom stars Fred “Kevin Arnold” Savage and David “Squiggy” Lander have managed to parlay their fame into the cartoon “Oswald.”
There’s no lack of evidence pointing to potential marijuana use in the field of children’s entertainment writing, but the folks at “Yo Gabba Gabba!” don’t even bother to burn the incense – which makes me nervous because it’s one of my kid’s favorites (admittedly mine too!), with rocking tunes like “There’s a Party in My Tummy” (So Yummy, So Yummy) and “Don’t, Don’t, Don’t Bite Your Friends.” Then there’s “The Wonder Pets,” where a talking guinea pig, turtle, and a duckling “wiff a speech impedooment” fly around in an upside-down Frisbee and save the animals, then satisfy their case of the munchies by chomping on vegan celery. These are strictly gateway cartoons that eventually lead viewers to the hardcore stuff of “Lazy Town,” a program strictly verboten in the Halleron House because it’s just too messed up for words.
While the argument can be made that exposing your child to druggies and Commies may better help him or her navigate the education system, I take heart in the fact that my son also lights up and dances around to the “Jeopardy!” think music and the theme to BBC World News. I could be an ignorant snob and say my son is inherently drawn to these quasi-intellectual programs, or I could face the simple fact that like most Americans, he gets sucked in by the jingles.
Christopher M. Halleron, freelance writer/retired bartender, writes a biweekly humor column for The Midweek Reporter. Like a well-made Manhattan, he’s stirred but never shaken. Feel free to drop him a line at chris@chrishalleron.com or follow him at http://twitter.com/HALLERON.