Our Children are Doomed

So I was watching KEWLopolis on CBS last weekend, when it occurred to me that KEWLopolis really sucks. First, there's this show "Dinosquad," in which a bunch of high school stereotypes can morph into dinosaurs in order to save the world from this other guy who's actually a 65 million-year-old anthropomorphic velociraptor and the CEO of a Fortune 500 company called Raptor Dyne. Then there's something all too literally called "Sushi Pack": "Four pieces of sushi and a wad of wasabi jolted to life--doing what's right to protect the citizens of Wharf City!"

But here's the catch: these pieces of salmon egg sushi, crab sushi, tuna sushi, octopus sushi, and wasabi operate out of a donut shop that their best friend, Ben, owns. If ever there was a delicious combo, it was sushi and donuts. Why don't any of the characters actually look like sushi? Why is the octopus wearing an eye patch?

If I cut random pages out of a dictionary, threw them in a hat, let my dog shit in the hat, pulled out the five shittiest pages, blindfolded myself, and pointed to 22 random words, those 22 words combined into a sentence couldn't possibly make a worse concept for a show than "Four pieces of sushi and a wad of wasabi jolted to life--doing what's right to protect the citizens of Wharf City!"

Childrens' shows today are an insult to children. Back in what I believe to be the Golden Age of childrens' programming, shows like: Ren and Stimpy, the Rugrats, Recess, Hey Arnold, and Doug presided over our hearts and minds with a now-legendary style and grace. In an effort to show just how horrible kids' shows are these days, I'm pitting what I believe to be the worst of the worst from my day against their analogous (and actually popular) shows of today. Guess who wins.

Gullah Gullah Island vs. The Backyardigans

Gullah Gullah Island starred some inexplicably Jamaican folk living on an island off the coast of South Carolina. It indoctrinated me and, presumably, the tens of twenties of other kids who watched it, into the stereotype that all people living on islands are Jamaican. Don't remember it? There was also a giant, talking, yellow frog named Binyah Binyah that they kept locked out in the backyard because seriously, IT'S A GIANT, TALKING FROG. If I wasn't seven years old in 1995, I would've been scared out of my fucking mind of that show.


However, this thing called "The Backyardigans" might be worse. My premilinary research indicates that the show is about some kids who may or may not be dinosaurs having pseudo-adventures fueled by "imagination power" in their shared backyard. Aside from the fact that it stars communist dinosaurs who are clearly huffing glue, this show sucks because the names of the kids are Pablo, Tyrone, Uniqua, Tasha, and Austin. Uniqua? That name insults me both as a black man and as an individual. I hold this show singularly responsible for the recent rash of horrible baby names like Skylar and Taryn and Jaden.


ADVANTAGE: Gullah Gullah Island

My Little Pony vs. Horseland

Now I wasn't the type of kid that ever watched My Little Pony, but I know that several of my female colleagues enjoyed the show. That's what they tell me. I've never seen it. However, I do know that there were like a million of those little toy ponies with the hair that you could comb into almost any style you could dream up in your horribly confused five-year-old mind. Actually, I'm not sure those were My Little Ponies.

In any case, that pony in the background is surfing on a fucking rainbow. It's gonna be hard to top that, Horseland. Plus, this pony in the foreground is clearly willing to do almost anything for money. Awesome.

Horseland, on the other hand, is a show geared toward your serious business 7-year-old pony enthusiast. It's on KEWLopolis, and it sucks. Normal kids' shows feature crazy adventures and outlandish situations and characters, but Horseland stars a bunch of waspy bitches going to a ranch, riding horses, and enterting them into competitions. If I'm gonna waste my valuable Saturday morning watching cartoons, I'd watch crime-fighting sushi over Country Club 101 one hundred times out of one hundred and one.

Advantage: My Little Pony

As you can see, the shows from my era won 2-0. This proves, without a doubt, that every kids' show made after 2000 is terrible. I rest my case.

Love,
Mike

A Tip For Everyone

Just a heads up folks, this post is not about Michael Jackson. It’s not about his singing, his dancing, or his rocky road (ice cream method) with children. This post is about something that I’ve had it up to internet-here with.

There’s been an ever increasing trend among every single person I know to start becoming awful at taking compliments, and it’s manifesting itself in the worst god damn way. What’s troubling about this, is that most of you know me to be your future angry-man-in-hover-rocking-chair yelling at children about how things were “in my day, you lousy ingrates,” which is fine, because that’s exactly how I’ve tried to fashion the events in my life leading up to that glorious moment. So if I give you a compliment, or make a comment in regards to something you’ve accomplished, just tip your hat to me and say “why thank you, oh kind sir.”

Do not reply in the following manner. Don’t look down and to your left, slightly furrow your brow, lift one side of your mouth, wait 2 seconds, and say in the most dickway possible “…Not really.”

Hey asshole, I’m being nice! I even bought you the hat so you could tip it at me! You never once said thank you, you son of a bitch.

Perfect example. A buddy of mine, who will soon hereafter figure out I’m speaking of him, (yes Ryan), and proceed to bitch at me until eventually working his go to move of “you know what? Tapan? You know what?” told me a story. So one long, very fucking uneventful tale later, the man lets me know that he made one hell of a drive in order to go see this fine lookin’ miss thang. Upon hearing that, I replied in a pride-filled voice by saying, “Damn dude, nice, that’s one hell of a drive.” And that little slut not-really’d me.

What does that accomplish? Not-really’ers of the world, you’re actually asking people to apologize for a compliment? Motherfuckers what the fuck?

On that note I make a plea to all of you. End this madness. Too many people are getting AIDS from your attitude, and really, no one wants AIDS from your attitude. At least the unprotected sex has it’s momentary

pleasure, you’re just rubbing people the wrong way.

So tomorrow when you wake up and hear a compliment, look that person right in the eyes and do the hat tip. Not wearing a hat? Feel free to dig through your neighborhood lost and found, you’d be amazed at the number of “repeat-threepeat” hats people have had the audacity to lose over the last 11 years.

Until next tim…. Oh actually.

For those of you wondering why this post took so long, it’s because Mike Bogart is a selfish man that ignores you folks, and would sooner burn down an orphanage than meet a blog deadline. God, what an asshole.

And now, until next time b’s and g’s (you can figure out which letter is male and which one is female on your own time, it’ll be a fun little game). ,

Tapan Jones