God Says BWAH

While home I was home with Jim the Baby Nephew, we partook in a great deal of Sesame Street, and you will be happy to hear that Bob McGrath is still around, although likely not as happy to discover that he is now frighteningly old and strongly resembles a cadaver in a sweater. (“Today’s show was brought to you by the letter 'C'!)

Jim and I also watched Gloria Estafan inform us for three and a half minutes that “Hola Means Hello!” and I was sad that I did not catch the next installment, in which we would have doubtless learned that “Growing Economic Integration Means Increasingly Lackadaisical Border Control!”

But there’s new things to learn as well. I was born way ahead of the Teletubbies, and so I have little knowledge of them other than the fact that the purple one is gayNOTTHATTHERE’SANYTHINGWRONGWITHTHAT, but some fool (Hi, Grandma!) bought him a battery-powered Teletubbie doll. The red one. Its name is Po, and Po sings mind-enriching songs like:

Po Po Po Po PO!
Po Po Po Po Po.
Po Po Po Po POOOOO!

and then Po laughs, and Jim laughs, and every adult within earshot dies a little inside.

Jim also has a moving Santa Claus doll that plays “Jingle Jingle Jingle” when you press his hand, which Jim does on an incessant basis. Po and Santa are all part of God saying BWAHHHH! to Aunt Beth, who once laid herself down in front of a horrible object in Pogue’s department store called Mr. Christmas, which electronically beeped Christmas carols, and if you plugged it into your Christmas tree, the lights would flash on and off in time with the music. This was the best, most obnoxious thing the entire combined wisdom of mankind up until the year 1981 had to offer, and Grandma said that the precious child should have it.

Sorry, Mom.

I'm too much at: mb@blondechampagne.com