|Cast-off Bleatban artwork continues. I like this its from an old Popular Science ad but it just seemed too small to carry an entire week. And I realized that it was a lie. I will not train you at home. Sorry. Youre on your own.
A lovely storm broods overhead, snapping off flashes of irritation and rumbles of indignation. Whats bothering it, Ive no idea, but its fun to watch, and proof that scale is everything: compacted to human size, a thunderstorm would be nothing more than a pro-wrestler with a flashlight. Spread it over six counties, and its Nature in All Its Majestic Force.
Make that a wrestler with a taser.
See? I make corrections.
Tuesdays are interminable, bless them. Usually a day filled with this and that tends to trot past at a brisk pace, but not today. I finished two columns this morning while Gnat made Play-Doh food. I was quite impressed with her spaghetti: white Play-Doh pushed through the extruder to make long thin strands; a layer of red for sauce, and three black spheres for meatballs. Do they make brown Play-Doh? Possibly not, and for good reason; malicious brothers would form piles to be left behind the younger siblings My Little Pony collection. After finishing the columns and ah, the joy you feel when the second ones sent I did the ritual cleansing of the house. Piano practice downstairs. Off to church for choir practice. A car outside the church had two bumperstickers, one of which expressed a particular political preference; the other said:
PLEASE DONT START WWIII
You just dont know where youd start with that one, do you.
After choir practice everyone piled into the church basement for pizza; Gnat had two slices from a pie with the circumference of a manhole cover, which may explain why she just threw up. Excuse me.
(One hour later)
Well, she doesnt seem sick, but shes rather stoic about illnesses. Hard to tell. Still, shes running around and laughing, and making jokes about Boff Breath. It may be nerves as well the thunder is a little unsettling. I called up some pictures on the internet of lightning flashes, and explained it was just clouds bumping into each other. And it was far away! You could tell just by counting. Lets wait for the next lightning flash, okay? FLASH.
One thousand one, one
Okay, well, its not that far away, but were fine. Its just a cloud named Harry yelling at a cloud named Bob: hey, Bob, stop bumping into me. (Said in a disgruntled cloud voice.) She requested that I perform the roles of several irritated clouds, and I obliged. Anyway, the post-choir pizzafest was held in one of the churchs many basement assembly rooms; this one was for high school kids, and had all the tools of the devil: a TV, a soda fountain, a foosball table. The TV was tuned to that craptacular waste of ink, Ed, Edd and Eddy, a squiggly cartoon with three unlikable characters and no discernible reason for being. Watching the expression of the children, you realize that they're enduring it so they can see the commercials, which are the real entertainment. As one mother memorably put it: Its a church basement, for chrissakes! They should have Veggie Tales. God bless the church moms.
But Ill take a seven-day triple-Ed marathon over one episode of something we saw this morning. Ive seen the teaser ads, and they seemed Euro-creepy in that strange Continental fashion too bright, too false, too hi-ho cheery. Even though Olie is animated by the French, its an American product in its conception. Pooh may be animated by Koreans, but it retains its British attributes. The Teletubbies are European, not British. Ditto Boombah, which is for those whose intellects and narrative skills cannot follow the complex story lines of the Teletubbies.
Which brings us to Lazy Town. The ads on Nick Jr were wrong, wrong, wrong. A friend of mine had a phrase for such things: it goes through me. I knew instantly what she meant; the sensation of being pierced by something that was nauseatingly unnatural in a way you couldnt articulate, but only feel. It goes through me. Some things were so bad they went through you, orbited, and went through you again.
Lazy Town goes through me. The ads set it up: you have Lazy Town, which is . . . a town, I guess, and it has one pink-haired girl citizen, and one buff grinny gym teacher in blue shorts and a spiked moustache. Hes Sportacus, and he doesnt walk when he can jump and twirl around in the air. Hes the Pete Best of the Village People. His rival is Robbie Rotten, a cad with a prosthetic chin who plots ways to defeat Sportacus and make the children eat sugar. There is a Mayor and several children, who dont look like the girl or Sportacus or Robbie, but instead have inert plastic heads whose limited labial mobility helps sell the product in foreign language markets. I cant tell you how creepy it is. I figured it was British.
Just go here. You will see the very definition of something that goes through you.
Are you back? Good. Altogether: WTF?
Its Icelandic. Its Icelands contribution to childrens programming. And its been on the air for nine years. The amount of merchandising its generated is stunning, too. But best of all: its the brainchild of an Icelandic aerobics champion who has the best Male Athlete name, ever.
The main websites here. Please, look at every page. This is the country that gave us Bjork, too. I say we bottle their water and ship it to all the hotspots of the world. One year later everyone would be devoting themselves to trippy videos about lesbian robots and foam-headed mayors. Iceland: Recess Nation. If this is what they come up with when theyre integrated into the world, imagine what theyd spawn if they were cut off from everyone else for a century. Almost worth a try. Send the fleet!