A daddy blog.

04 November 2008


The kid eated her first bit of media Sunday.

It was a Baby Einstein DVD, which I had assumed was designed to mold her from a sub-mediocre student with a speech impediment into a rebel who would 1) lead a mutiny against the rote regimen of the municipal school system, 2) renounce her citizenship in order to avoid military service and join the disaffected intellectual class, 3) embrace authority late in life by throwing herself into government-backed research program that will contribute to the creation of a doomsday weapon.

But no, Baby Einstein is actually a couple of puppets that say BAH BAH and FAH FAH. They also offer:
  • The the forcefed commercials preceding the feature presentation that all DVDs open with. The viewing sensation is particularly nauseating when you've opted your daughter into it.
  • From there, we learn that the producers of Baby Einstein understand the need to acclimate the next generation to the necessity of the opening credits sequence. The Baby Einsten Puppet Ensemble and the Baby Einstein Orchestra both get their due, which I guess satisfied the requirements of the union.
  • From there, imagine a Fozzie Bear routine in which, in addition to his own insecurities, Fozzie labors under the effects of a morning toke at his local opium den. Imagine it took this drugged out muppet half an hour to say "Wokka" three times. Now you have it.
Bug, bless her heart, was only halfway interested.

Whether or not she goes in for these, there will be other videos to come, as I am dead set on getting the kid ahead of the culture. We live in a fractured culture already, where nobody reads the same books, and thus nobody talks about them. The best you can hope for today is to find someone watching the cable drama that you watch.

Now, imagine what 20 years of internet populism will do. If we don't get her into a literary commune or the Peace Corps, she'll end up hanging with people who think that quoting Ralphie Wiggum is a sign of elitist tastes.