Coffee Dharma

Any parent with a young child will completely understand this posting… (well, unless you one of those parents who thinks TV is the devil)

I have been in a few bands in my day including a couple death metal groups and some punk varieties. I am eclectic in my musical tastes and regularly include everything from Ani DiFranco to Pantera to Vivaldi in my listening habits. I have remembered volumes of lyrics and musical riffs over the years. I can recall details of thousands upon thousands of musical pieces from memory. When I close my eyes and listen deeply to the passing notes in my subconscious I can clearly hear…. “BACKPACK, BACKPACK, BACKPACK, BACKPACK. Loaded up with things and nick naks too, anything you might need I got inside for you. BACKPACK, BACKBACK, BACKPACK, BACKPACK, YEAH!”

All parents understand this viral exposure to the crazy children shows that are being produced today. Of course there are some of great value as well with some deeper meaning and powerful educational value, though those are never the ones your kid loves. I have found that the more annoying and just downright confusing the show is to me the higher value my son places on it. He has recently discovered a show called Yo Gabba Gabba which was dreamt up the some members of the band The Aquabats (If you know the band you already know how strange the show will be). It is a ridiculous mashing of repetitive techno songs, vintage video games, puppets, and a strangely androgynous DJ. The effect on adults is similar to dull pencils drilled into the eyes and ears. My son LOVES Yo Gabba Gabba. He will dance with every song, sing along, and even talk with the characters through their situations. Every fiber of my being told me to change the channel and send my son to a cult detox program but I decided to give it a try instead. After a few weeks of saturation into the Gabba world I now have lessened the pain of the sensory experience to a dull ache and have started having great fun with my son. My sensibilities still tell me I am selling my soul for the happiness, but who cares. Nothing is quite as special as dancing and wiggling with your two year old at 11:30 each day. Maybe next week I’ll open my mind to Dora, though I wouldn’t count on it.

Oh the humanity