Prolly All the Time: tough love

Monday, August 13, 2007

tough love

Do you want to know one thing that I have figured out in the past eight months? I am in the wrong business, people.

After several months of deep immersion in the world of preschool television programming, I now realize that writing for those programs has got to be the easiest and lowest stress gig, EVA. The whole freaking world is your subject matter, because these kids do not know shit and are likewise completely fascinated by dirt and their own toes.

I have envisioned what their "creative" meetings entail...

Someone says, "Well, we have a new season of "Weird talking animals engaged in completely unrealistic activity with little or no supervision" coming up... what topics do you think should be on the list? We need to kick those bastards over at "Inanimate objects living in complete socialist utopia" in the ass! I am tired of them getting all the big merchandising deals."

"How about bathing, carrots, farm animals, and teamwork?"

"Well, that is interesting, but we need to take it up a notch this year folks... we need to cook with gas! How about EXOTIC farm animals? Stacey, find me some llamas."

"OH OH! Cooking with gas, that gives me another idea! We should do a show on things that are hot! and things that are cold!"

"OK, OK... we are getting closer. We are halfway through the season, what else?"

"THE NUMBER 7, kids LOVE SEVEN!"

"YES! That is what I am talking about. Daytime Emmys, here we come! I am totally going to translate this into a gig at Nick*leodeon... Fairly Odd#parents, here I come!"

"Season finale... I have one word for you all. MUD!"

"[Weeping] Stop, it is all too much... perfection. I bow to your genius!

I guess that if I am truly offended by the lameness of the content, I could just turn off the TV. But I think that I have previously indicated that not only do we appreciate the TV at casa t'pon... it is a valued member of the family.

Just because you don't always like what a family member does, doesn't mean that you stop loving them. I hate it when Bean is rolling on the floor whining about having to drink the blue juice instead of the yellow juice, but I haven't packed up his little bag, handed him a $20 bill, and sent him on his way... I detest Banzo's high-pitched screaming at bedtime (as do all the dogs within a 50 mile radius of his bedroom), but I have not left him on the stoop of a kind, sweet smelling elderly woman with a weepy note stapled to his splattered onesie. You move through the tough times... and relish "Flight of the Conchords."

Look, I don't blame the TV... it can't help the way it was raised. It only knows what it has been taught. The best that I can do, is let it know that I expect more from it.

And, lets be frank. It is the best big sibling you could hope for. Always available, no back-chat about a cramped social life or unreasonable curfews, and endless energy to entertain.

Posted at 11:26 AM in Television | Permalink