God is, among other things, really super smart. And in His infinite wisdom, He has given me the gift of a knack for the written word but kept me safely sequestered from employment as a child novelist, animation script writer, copy editor for a children’s series and/or all things having to do with educating children through entertainment. I am far too ‘practical’ for that type of job.
If you’ve got kids under the age of 8, chances are you have parked them in front of the TV and wandered off to do something else (i.e. laundry, dishes, a quick poo, etc. etc.). In those hours, your children become well acquainted with the characters on TV, thus forcing YOU to make their acquaintance as well. From Big Bird, to Clifford, to Spongebob, you know them all. Some of them are beloved throwbacks from your own childhood while others are unsavory, revolting newcomers.
God I hate that bald, cancer stricken little bastard. I hate him so much that I joined the Facebook group “Caillou Needs his A** Whopped!”. It was formed by a group of adults whose vitriol towards this fictional character was so palatable, I could taste it in their every keystroke. I felt right at home.
I hate everything about Caillou. I hate his clothes, I hate his impudent voice (which is artfully and appropriately provided by a GIRL), I hate his mom, I hate his dad…I just hate everything that he is and stands for. If you’re unfamiliar with Caillou, here’s a synopsis: He’s a 4 year old Canadian brat struggling to find his place in the world as he goes to “playschool” while defying his parents’ simplest requests.
“Caillou!” his mom will say. “Come pick up your toys before supper.”
“I don’t want to!” Caillou will retort, and then continue playing with his paper airplane.
“Now Caillou,” his father will interject softly. “It’s time to clean up.”
This song and dance will continue until Caillou has a fit and throws himself to the floor. His father and/or mother will then intervene, offering to make a ‘game’ of cleaning up WITH him.
Humph. I got a game fuh ya, niggro. How about a little game of catch – where you get to catch my fist in your little pasty face! Gonna lay there and tell ME you ‘don’t want to’. You done lost what little bit of sense God gave you. You know, my eldest tried to go Caillou on me at one point. I quickly let her know that her name was not Fantasia Barrino, and life was indeed, not a fairytale. Needless to say we no longer watch Caillou in our house.
The other day the kids were watching Kai Lan on Nick Jr. Now, I generally like Kai Lan, but for the last few episodes, the little monkey and tiger have been getting on my LAST nerve. (And yes, I know their names: Rintu and Hoho.) In this particular episode, Kai Lan and the crew were going to perform a dragon dance in the town’s parade. They drew lots to see who was going to hold the head of the dragon, the tail, etc. Rintu drew the card that said he had to hold the middle of the dragon up. Do you know 2 minutes into the parade, Rintu decided he didn’t want to be in the middle because that job wasn’t “important”, then dropped his pole and ran off??? All was resolved when Kai Lan did her little song, showed Rintu that he was indeed important and they all marched happily in the parade.
Nah man. If that had been ME, things would have gone a little differently:
Rintu: I don’t want to hold the middle of the dragon! It’s not an important job! (He drops his pole and runs off angrily.)
Kai Malaka: Rintu! Rintu you little snaggled-toothed, stripped retard! You get your tiger arse over here and pick up this pole!
Rintu: I don’t want to! (He huffs.) I want to hold the head!
Kai Malaka: You know want Rintu? People in Hell want ice water. Little kids in Libya don’t want their fathers to be murdered in the night. Obama wants another crack at the White House, but he probably won’t get it. YOUR job is to hold the middle of this dragon, and so help me, if you don’t get your bug-eyed behind over here…(my jaw begins to tighten.)
Rintu: What Kai Malaka? What’re you gonna do?
Kai Malaka: (I breathe slowly before bursting into song) *I got it, I got! I really, really do. I got it, I got it! I know just what to do!* Screw you Rintu. Hoho, Tolee, Ye Ye…everybody shift your poles and redistribute the weight. See this Rintu? That’s physics. We just eliminated your space. We don’t need your whiny behind no ways. See you at the parade, sucka.
This is not the lesson network TV wants to teach your children (and I assume the type of lesson you don’t want them learning at 4 and 5), and it is also why I will never be hired in the realm of edutainment: I’m like the Nancy Grace of children’s publishing. It’s my job to tell you the truth, not to make sure you like it.