I Want to Murder the Teletubbies

My little C has recently become enthralled with cartoons. Most any cartoon can keep him occupied for approximately four seconds before he wiggles his way off the sofa and demands I occupy his attention in a way that doesn’t allow me to do something really important around the house, like blogging.

Cartoons, more specifically, the cartoons that are geared toward toddlers, are designed in such a way as to grab their attention and hold it in an unrelenting grip. It is necessary for them to be devised in this way so that the brainwashing can begin. (I liiiiiikey watching a "thing" shaped like a wiener with ONE EYE. I promise, Mom, it's okay!)

Well, Cade and I are often snuggling together watching cartoons, and I’ve realized something humiliating: I can’t stop watching them. Now, don’t be confused, thinking that I like watching them. I do not. I can’t. For, just as these shows are designed as a mind trap for young, vulnerable minds, it is, I most humbly admit, a mind trap for yours truly. I have a weak mind.

This morning, as Dora the Explorer ended, (Why is the media attempting to teach my child Spanish when he barely understands English?) Teletubbies came on. I reserve a special, scorching, searing hatred (how’s that for alliteration!) for this mind snare than any other. And, because The World hates me, this evil show happens to be my son’s favorite (he can actually watch nearly the entire thirty minutes – GAG).

And I can’t stop watching it! My mind was simultaneously begging to look away and begging for more. I think I might have to ixnay the ellitubbiestay. They seem kind of shifty, almost like predators incognito. You never know what’s underneath those totally nast costumes.

I have no issue with Poe (the red one). She (He, perhaps? They have no genitalia as far as I can tell, and believe me, I’ve LOOKED.) is small and sweet and doesn’t make very many annoying noises (They don’t speak English, withstanding “tubby custard” and “buh-bye!”) other than that, they make grunts and high-pitched whatevers. I often worry about Poe, wondering if she (he?) is being molested by some of the other bigger ones, especially Tinky Winky. Dipsy and La La I’m going to overlook on this post, mooooostly because any issues I have with them are vastly overshadowed by my hella big problemo with Tinky to the Winky.

The Winkster is a predator. A pedophile in purple. I’m sure of it. I get a very creepy vibe from the tallest and manliest of the four. Brandon now affectionately refers to him as a teletouchy.

Why am I letting my son be drawn in by a pedophile, (he may not have genitalia, but I assure you of his guilt) and, to give you even more food for thought, why does this purple monster draw me in?

I should really grow up.