I'll admit it right now.
I can't stand the Wiggles.
I don't care if this makes me a bad person.
I don't care if you call me a heartless bitch who doesn't have a soul.
I don't care that they are millionaires, so obviously they must be likable.
I? Cannot stand them.
I think the Wiggle's show might be the worse thing on television. If I were given a choice between watching Ultimate Fighting Championship or The Wiggles, well, I'd probably just get on Facebook and turn off the TV, really.
Little Man has not been exposed to the Wiggles. Because why would I subject my son to something that makes my eyeballs and ear drums throb and filled with grown men wearing red, purple, blue and yellow shirts, grinning maniacally like they're about to eat my spleen for dinner.
Little Man, somehow has uncovered the Wiggles. I'd blame school, since it would be the only place he might have been tortured with this, but apparently, on movie day, which is Wednesday, the kids each and every time clamor for Satan's illegitimate daughter, Dora. Which Little Man now requests episodes of her highness with the shrieking voice and purple monkey by asking for "Dora? D-d-d-d-d-Dora?", because if he didn't say it like in the theme song, I might think he was asking for that other Dora.
I finally put two and two together when Little Man kept asking for The Wiggles that he was seeing promos for it on The Disney Channel, while watching his Mickey Mouse Club House tivoed episodes.
Disney's promotions department is probably filled with people who challenge themselves by creating promos for ice cubes and then running them only in homes in the Arctic Circle, just to see if their powers of persuasion actually do have a limit.
Now, those promotions bastards have convinced my son that his life will never be whole if he doesn't watch the Wiggles.
I tivoed an episode for him, because I'm very weak when it comes to 3 foot tall blond blue eyed men, and I sat down to watch a little bit with him.
I couldn't believe it. The level of cheesiness. The horrible cheap looking costumes. The lameness of the acting. It was all worse then I expected. I looked at Little Man, and his face was blank.
"This show really sucks, eh?" I said.
His head whipped around 360 degrees, and he gave me the look of death to tell me that the cult of the Wiggles? They'd just ordered him to have me killed for stating such a blasphemous thought.
Somehow, he let me live.
And now I have that ridiculous "Hot Potato" song stuck in my head.
Four men in a little red car singing together? It's just not right, that's all, oil crisis or no oil crisis.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
I'll admit it right now.