Thursday, April 19, 2007

Pop Culture Navigation

Adrastos posted a tribute to Jackie Robinson, who had a parkway named after him not too long ago. Traveling Mermaid has her "Mermaid Mondays" in which she posts some tantalizing YouTubed tidbits of music for all to enjoy. Jeffrey, in partial reaction to his library duties, no doubt, posts stuff like this. Ashley puts a little N'Awlins into this picture of Rachael Ray and watches the fur fly in the comments. Hell, even Editor B is reviewing Netflix flicks.

And what have I got? My four-year-old pop culture blender, the little guy...of course!

He's moved in a different direction from his soul music. Behold the lyrics that have been coming out of his mouth recently:

Set me free, little girl
All you gotta do is set me freee, little girl
You know you can do it if you try
All you gotta do is set me free, free, free

And these, which he sings in the tub:

Waiting (waiting) waiting on the world to change
You know we're waiting (waiting) waiting on the world to change
It's not that we don't care
It's that we know that the fight ain't fair
That's why we're waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change.

The day that either Ray Davies or John Mayer comes out with Jewish music albums, I'll be on it, because the little guy doesn't want to hear us singing "Dayenu", but I'm certain that if he hears either Davies or Mayer, or, say, Elvis singing it, he'll be singing it before he goes to sleep at night.

Last night, the little guy was, strangely enough, transfixed by an episode of PBS' Secrets of the Dead, in which the circumstances of Jesus' death and the true location of his tomb are discussed in occasionally excruciating detail.

"I don't think he should be watching this," I said to Dan.

"I think Secrets of the Dead is great!" Dan enthused. "I especially liked their show on syphilis!"

When he realized what he had just said, Dan had to laugh, but it really only hit him after I laughed. I was suddenly hit by a picture of the little guy at his preschool class' circle time meeting, saying to his teachers and his fellow students, "Do you know where syphilis came from? It's a mystery..." The reality is, one of these days, he might do it. All of us are deluded into thinking that kids move on and forget very easily, but what most people don't realize is that it all comes out when we are least expecting it. For all I know, my son will start discussing the Church of the Holy Sepulchre the next time we're at the synagogue...

Then again, it could be worse. Dan was ready to burn the Madagascar DVD that seemed to be on nearly every day for a month not too long ago. The little guy has watched more than enough of Happy Feet to perform his version of a tap-dancing penguin for everyone at a restaurant one night (those people had no clue they were getting dinner and a show, none at all...). And I am reminded of a little conversation my dad and my grandfather had over the little guy's viewing of SpongeBob SquarePants a while back...

Dad: Why are you letting him watch this crap? You can see his brain coming out through his eyeballs!!!!!

Grandpa (watching it with the little guy, absentmindedly answering): So? He's enjoying it.

Words to live by, huh?

Oh, well, I've got my own pop culture pursuits to contemplate. Baseball season has begun, as Sheckrastos has reminded me with his Robinson post, and, since the New Orleans Zephyrs are now a Mets affiliate (Dan and I were pleasantly surprised to see a Zephyrs game being broadcast in New York a couple of weeks ago, with former Miracle Met and Zephyrs' announcer Ron Swoboda doing his thing.), I can move on to loftier pursuits, such as this:

What the heck happened to Jesse Orosco's glove?

(for Rakowitz's project, go to this link, click on "Projects", and then on "Up and away")


jeffrey said...

How did Jesus contract syphilis? It's a mystery!

Leigh C. said...

Actually, that's how it MIGHT come out of the little guy's mouth...

Cousin Pat from Georgia said...

I never really understood how funny the younglings could be until I started hanging out with the pack that occassionaly lays siege to my cousin's house.

Her four year old once announced to the room that he would be naming his robot toy "Beeotch" and that he has to "represent."

My cousin was less than pleased with the reactions on the faces of said four year old's father and myself, as we could not keep it together during the 'learning opportunity.'

Leigh C. said...

Early this morning, as I was driving the little guy to school, we passed a yellow sign in front of Tulane that proclaimed that the campus was "gun-free"

"What does that sign mean, Mom?" he asked from the backseat.

"It means that guns aren't allowed at the college," I told him.

"But cannons ARE?" he asked, referring to the big gun at the corner of Freret and McAlister.