Saturday Morning Review, Part I

We all remember days of preadolescent innocence, awakening on Saturday mornings and turning to our televisions to induldge in some animated (and not so animated) wonder. At least I do. In honor of these (mostly) fond memories, I'm writing a three part series of commemorative reviews, dedicated to revisiting these old shows. The first part will harken back to the shows of early childhood, which were mostly devoted to educating children in some way. The second part will focus on the television of early adolescence. Finally, the third part will revisit the stuff of my generation's teenage years.

Part 1: Early Childhood- The PBS Era.


Barney and Friends


I think it's pertinent to mention that shortly before my birth in 1986, my father was quite keen on naming me Barney. "Who could not like a guy named Barney?" was his main argument. My mother wouldn't have it. It was probably too blue collar or something, which is why I was marked with the more aristocratic sounding moniker of Oliver. I mean, Olivonius. Damn, there goes my secret identity.

Well, it turned out that mother had the right idea, because it wasn't long after I arrived in this world that Barney the Purple Dinosaur was spawned from the darkest realm of Hades to wreap havoc upon the watchers of PBS (funded by viewers like you). Barney, or Barnzlebub as he is known among Satan worshippers, would point his vestigial little demon claw at the camera at the end of every show and claim that "You're special!" as if he knew each and every one of us personally like our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. This was obviously an attempt to sham his young viewers into warshipping him as a false idol so that he could usurp The Lord's authoritah over his Kingdom.

Not convinced are you? Then I ask you, have you ever played the "I Love You Song" backwards? Here are the lyrics to the "I Love You Song" played forwards at normal speed:

I love you
You love me
We're a happy family
With a great big hug
and a kiss from me to you
Won't you say you love me too?

Now, here's what it sounds like in reverse and slowed down 66.6%:
WARNING: EXPLICIT AND DISTURBING CONTENT

Satan's hounds
shall consume your soul
You are but a centipede
from your mother's vagina
Join the legions of the Dark One
We provide a very comprehensive dental plan.

That should clear up any confusion regarding the true nature of Barnzlebub, the Purple Hellspawn. And even if you still don't buy any of this, you've got to admit that Barney is pretty sketchy on the surface. I mean, here's a guy in a dinosaur suit who hangs out with kids after school when all the teachers have gone home. Oh, and he "loves" them. And somebody try to explain away the "NAMBLA" tattoo he's got under his tail. All I can say is, I need an adult.


Sesame Street

I loved Sesame Street and still recall fond memories of it today. Still, the show leaves several important questions unanswered. Allow me to explain.

Sesame Street is, well, a street in New York. It looks kinda Bronx-ish. It's got families and local shop owners like any urban area. But it also has a giant 10 foot yellow bird living in an ally who is friends with some kind of wooly mammoth type thing. Meanwhile, right outside an apartment, a green, ill tempered mutant occupies a trash can.

What beats the hell out of me most of all is that NOBODY ON SESAME STREET THINKS THIS IS STRANGE.

There are no scenes, even in the first season, where some guy looks out his window onto the street below, and says to his wife, "Jesus fucking Christ, there's an owl playing the saxophone down there! Owl's don't even have lips, how is this fucking possible? My world is collapsing around me! FUCK!" Nobody even calls animal control the first time Oscar sticks his head out of that trash can. And don't get me started on Ernie and Bert.

After decades of the show's existance, not a single scientist or tabloid reporter has shown up to observe the urban anomoly that is Sesame Street. It's so unrealistic. Look, if they want to make a believer out of me, they should have researchers in HazMat suits poking things with Geiger counters in the background while Elmo explains how many sides a rectangle has. At the end of every show, instead of announcing that the episode was brought to you by the letters "H" and the number "2," it should say something like, "Today's show was brought to you by an irresponsible government who burried toxic mutagenic waste under a busy New York street."

Now, you may be thinking, "Come on, Olivonius, quit being such a fagort. Sesame Street is a kid's show so they can get away with this stuff. Obviously the child inside you is dead; dead and gone forever, you souless, empty, pathetic excuse for a human being. Just go kill yourself, you bastard."

Now now now, hold your horses. Just look at E.T. He's got a lot in common with many of the characters on sesame street. I mean, he's a loveable (albeit freakish) puppet who's great with the kids. Now, why is it that when Sesame Street broadcasts it's freak show all over the world, nobody bats an eye, but when word get's out about E.T., Nasa and the EPA barge in to Eliot's house and stick a probe up his ass? I don't know, but since I go to UC Santa Cruz I think I'll just assume it has something to do with racism.

ERT ERT RACISM GEORGE W. REPUBLIKKKANS WHITE PEOPLE ERT

Oh, sorry, that's just my Turret's Syndrome. Ever since I came here I've been saying stuff like that involuntarily whenever something bothers me.

Well, that sums up Part I. Tune in next time for the SHOCKING Part II experience. Godspeed.