A downward spiral can be entertaining, unless you are on the receiving end of it. Zachary Blasto, a man consumed by music, alcohol and the visions in his head, is a broken record skipping into oblivion as he tries to come to terms with loss; of love, of family and of his mind.

This is Rainbow Around the Sun, a voyeuristic thrill-ride at once beautiful, intriguing, sad, invigorating, hopeful, remorseful and stunning. The life of the medium alone has experienced a metamorphosis from concept album, staged concert and now, the movie, coming home for the Oklahoma premiere at the Dead Center Film Festival in June.

The love child of local talent Matthew Alvin Brown, Rainbow is a tour de force of the complications a mind can plague the owner with when abused by the creative forces of music, sex, and familial obligation. Blasto himself is somewhat a rainbow of personalities; different hues to different people. An asshole. A loving son. A shitty boyfriend. A mess. A musical prodigy.

Blasto is a musician hiding in his mind to avoid dealing with the problems in his disastrous life. Failing as a lover and grasping to his last moments with his father, he reflects on the stages of his life, all the while tied to his band, the musical umbilical cord sustaining what is left of his shattered heartbeat.

And no, I haven’t seen the movie. I have the album and was lucky enough to see the staged “reading” of the music last weekend on a rare night out.

Directed by Kevin Ely, (local writer and playwright of the fantastic “Feigning Grace”), and Beau Leland, with book by Ely, and all music by Brown and The Fellowship Students, the movie was chosen as an official selection of the South by Southwest Film Festival and the 2008 Florida Film Festival. Dead Center will premiere the movie opening night outdoors at 9:30 p.m. June 11th and again at the Oklahoma City Museum of Art at 5:30 p.m. June 13th.

Supporting local artists, whether in film, music or the visual or theatrical arts, is important to our community. Our state has so many creative individuals waiting to share their crafts with you. Matt Brown is one of those rare performers who truly shares a piece of his soul and inspiration while simultaneously entertaining you. He and Ely are sweet, talented, dandy men and I am thrilled to support their endeavors and call them friends. Bravo, guys.

www.rainbowaroundthesun.com
 

The movie High Fidelity starring John Cusack and Jack Black has been frequently playing on daytime television in the recent past. I have caught it a few times, jarring how much I love that movie back into my brain, the Top Five lists especially. Since the movie debuted, I often send out five questions to my friends on Fridays, asking various things, but I realized today I had not sent the query in a while asking their all-time Top Five: your list of celebrities. In reviewing my own choices, I realized just how incredibly nerdy my preferences are, and wondered why I can’t have the normal Matthew McConaughey-hay-hay and Brad Pitt on mine. It would be so much easier than having to answer the automatic response of “Who?” for almost all of them. Both Billy Crystal and Philip Seymour Hoffman have recently been removed from the list for “out of sight, out of mind reasons,” Billy especially. I will still have mad love for them, along with Kevin Spacey, who dwelled in the Number One spot for probably close to ten years. My current list is as follows…

NUMBER FIVE – RICHARD Blaise
He’s one of those people flamboyant enough to be called just by their last name. He sports a faux-hawk and pink Crocs, rocks the Molecular Gastronomy style of cooking, and knows what to do with a blow torch. And yeah, he’s straight. Owner and designer of Trail-Blaise restaurant in Atlanta, GA, Top Chef Season 4 contestant Blaise is a welcome, tunky-nerd addition to my Top Five. He is hilarious, competitive, extremely interesting and let’s face it…a man who cooks is always a plus. I think you can win this bitch. Rock out a few more wins!

NUMBER FOUR – JEMAINE Clement
He describes his look as an “Ogre who works in a library.” I don’t have a problem with that. He is hilarious, a fantastic writer, (both screen and song), can sing and is just really strangely enticing to look at. Plus, funny will always trump sexy. It just will. I don’t care who you are. It just will.

NUMBER THREE – JOHN Linnell
The soulful eyes, inventive lyrics and penetrating voice make him an irresistible nerd welcomed to my list about three years ago. There is something to be said if you are in a room full of people watching him sing, and you feel like you are the only person there, nearly in tears because his songs are so personal. So adorably nerd-sexy.

NUMBER TWO – DAVID Wain
For several reasons, I love him. First, he is one-third of Stella. Second, he directed Wet Hot American Summer. Third, he is hot. Fourth, he recently wrote and starred in his own YouTube series called Wainy Days, which is hilarious. Fifth, one of the funniest segments of Best Week Ever was his feature on how annoying David Blain the magician was when he did his stint in the bubble thing, and started a protest outside of it saying “Quit trying to out-Blain David Wain!” Sixth, when I get my email notices on Stella, WHAS and The State, it’s often him who writes them, and he’ll write you back. Seventh, his web site is hilarious. And he’s just hot.

NUMBER ONE – MICHAEL Emerson
It was a gestational crush. I’d been a fan of his for a while because of Lost and had even seen him on Broadway in The Iceman Cometh during the Kevin Spacey days, but never had a crush on him. Then I got pregnant. And I had those hormone-induced pregnancy dreams of jungle love on Lost’s freaky-deaky island with him, and afterward he would sit on a fallen tree and tell me what was missing from the book I have been trying to write for the past year. Then I had to find everything he was in and watch it. And I had more dreams where he would be my muse, guiding my writing. He usually plays a murderer. Very well. Even Entertainment Weekly had him do his own list of top five horror movies he loves and what scary is to him because he’s creepy. And I love him. I got all the way to Waikiki this past January, where he lives during filming, but due to the Q-bert signs Writer’s Strike, he was back in New York and I was unable to stare at him. So he’s going on 55, his hair is getting sparse and he’s married. Does it really matter? He has a liquid voice, an exceptional vocabulary, is into Shakespeare and the Greeks, and taught for years. I love him.

Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Thriller…Those aren’t my genres. Or weren’t until I was introduced to you, my dear J.J. Abrams, and your Bad Robot productions. Oh, how I will follow you and your pop culture phenomena to the ends of the earth. How you dangle unknown actors in my face, tie me into story lines and tease me with unbearable cliff-hangers. I love you. I hate you. I can’t live without you.

It all started in 1998 with Felicity. I had nowhere to go. The tangled dorm life of a bookish girl embroiled with the bad boy, the good boy, the quirky roommate, the gay friend and the pseudo-depressive best friend; it was irresistible. I even contemplated a perm, desperate for Keri Russell’s locks.

Because of you, I actually watched Underworld because Scott Speedman was in it. And I followed you to Alias because Noel’s nerdy girlfriend was playing the lead, so you are also responsible for Jennifer Garner’s success. That’s when you really did a number on me. That isn’t my type of show: espionage, crime, judo, ridiculous stories involving death and resurrection of the same person more than once.

And yet I couldn’t turn my eyes.

You are responsible for Greg Grunberg. If you said “Who the hell is that?” you are not worthy of Nerd City. Go sit in the corner and think about what you’ve done. Greg is J.J.’s go-to cameo boy: the funny guy in Felicity. The best friend in Alias. The pilot on Lost. Matt Parkman in Heroes. That’s right…soak up the shame.

Lost had been on for several weeks before I finally decided to take a look, finding out you were the producer. I thought it was Survivor, but with Matthew Fox crying, and it didn’t sound appealing at all. Yet I was instantly hooked. Then you screwed with my heart by adding Him. You know of whom I speak. My dear, sweet Ben (Michael Emerson.) Oh, how I long to have him manipulate me on a weekly basis. You are a genius. And now he is a pop culture phenomena all on his own. In fact, may I be so bold as to suggest a face-off between Michael Emerson and Michael Emerson for the Tournament of Villainy: Zep Hindle vs. Ben Linus? William Hinks vs. Allan Shaye? Gerry Rankin vs. Henry Gale? All his characters have a charming yet chilling educated civility to them…much like Magneto. …But I digress.

Now, I’m theatrically entranced by Cloverfield.

Little planned dialogue, a handheld camera, and not the cheese of Blair Witch Project; just good, simple fun and very little cursing, which surprised me from what I can assume was largely ad-libbed.

What I enjoy most is that you use largely unknown actors, gain sympathy with them because we know so little of their talents, we buy them as the person you tell us they are, then catapult them into stardom. I love it. I love how you take as much risk in the casting as you do in the concepts themselves.

I love you and your Science Fiction sexy.

Just add in a little more Ben.

Even though I’m not that kind of girl.

It had not been a Merry Christmas to that point…

My newlywed and I were having a very difficult time finishing up the debris from our wedding. Our home was a disaster area, we were still writing thank you notes squeezing in Christmas shopping at the sacrifice of everything else.

I hadn’t been looking forward to Christmas because too much in my life had just changed. My name wasn’t even the same. Between work and the holidays, there wasn’t time to just relax and enjoy being married. The joy had even been taken out of receiving gifts because of the wedding. We received so many, I just honestly didn’t want any more. Though believe me, the sentiment was greatly appreciated.

So the “anticipation of Christmas?” Just not there. Church had also not been the comfort it usually is. That reason I cannot answer. I just seemed to have lost the meaning in between fighting people for the last toy of its kind and wrapping paper that I knew people would tear up and throw away in a matter of seconds.

Sending a few measly Christmas cards felt like a punishment. They were all just courtesy cards to those who had sent cards to me. Baking the sweets for the family used to be something I looked forward to all year round, and hoped a bulk of the duties would someday be mine. Be careful what you wish for. They are now almost ALL mine. And the fun has begun to sink out of this tradition as well, with no one is there to help sift the flour or melt the butter. They all have children and other lives.

We were also on the crucial second year of family division for the holidays. However you choose to divide in the beginning may decide the next several years, as it will then be seen as a tradition. Thus began our fight and my bad mood on this momentous afternoon…

“A Christmas Carol” is generally a story I ignore. The idea that someone is mean all the time and doesn’t like Christmas is just too far-fetched. But in one instance that night, I realized I am Ebenezer. I refuse to say Scrooge, as I have at least seen the error of my ways and hope to make some sort of amends for my transgressions. And all I had to do was get on an escalator.

My husband and I had been bickering for several hours, (bad habit, but we get over it.) Anyway, we climbed aboard an escalator to zoom past Gymboree and the Gap and get to El Chico for dinner in between shopping and a trip to the mall cinema.

As we rode, a man several people behind us began yelling at the woman in front of us. It was his wife and he was puzzled as to where she and her two girls were going. Admittedly, I was annoyed. I didn’t give a crap where they were going and get easily irritated at people yelling a conversation around me. The mother and the girls reached the landing, got off the escalator and just stopped. I assumed they were waiting for their loud-mouth dad. And in a voice I considered under my breath or just to my husband, I sarcastically said, “Why don’t we all just stop.” The mother must have been as eves-droppy as I. She heard me and replied…are you ready for this? She replied…

“She’s blind. That is why we had to stop.”

I didn’t say another word to her. For the first time in years I was speechless. But my defiance and pride stopped me from even looking at the mother or the girl, or making an apology. I just kept walking. I even tried to justify my rude behavior by saying loudly a moment later, “She’s not going to make me feel bad. They could have stepped over to the side.”

We arrived at El Chico and I noticed how silent my husband had become. After some chips were delivered to our table, he said, “Are you just really wound up tonight?” I snapped, “Why? The waitress forgot the lime for your beer, so I asked her to bring some. I wasn’t rude.” He said, “I know. I’m not talking about that.” I said, “I already feel bad enough having tried to shove a blind girl out of the way.” And then I just started crying. He said, “I knew you already felt bad enough. You just seem really worked up.”

We walked down to the movies after dinner to see “Spanglish.” You go into movies thinking you will identify with the main character, who is usually the good person, the one who does the right thing and can’t get a break. …But another slap in the face made me realize I was just like the over-controlling, ever-correcting selfish mother played by Tea’ Leoni. It was hard to enjoy the movie after that, though I did.

For Christmas that year, I received a wake-up call.

Maybe we all have a Charlie Brown and Linus moment of clarity around the holidays. We are all lost, trying to find the spirit of Christmas and brotherly love, and from out of nowhere comes one small thing said by the least expected person/character that changes your entire perspective- humbles you, and makes you thankful all at once. And the fact that I got it and it moved me…Maybe I’m not so bad after all.

But even more unexpected is that I feel like the scrawny Christmas tree more than I do Charlie Brown. I am not attractive. I have nothing to prove and I’m just a sharp small tree that loses her needles around people. But a mother was willing to show me patience because she knew I had no idea of her daughter’s blindness. And my husband continues to love me so much that sometimes, something like a light or a Christmas ornament will show in my smile.

We can’t all be evergreens. We can’t all be good, compassionate people all the time, and Lord knows I’ve never claimed to be. But maybe somewhere in there I can figure out how to be as strong as I am stubborn and change myself…realize I’m the one that’s really blind.

…Or at least buy some duct tape and close off my mouth.

Each year at this time, the age-old question of what to be for Halloween plagues me as I try to come up with something original for my friend’s annual Halloween Bash. The array of clever ideas other people can come up with never ceases to amaze me when I walk through the door, and for once I want to really concoct something fantastic.

There are usually several “partner costumes,” which is what James and I usually shoot for. We have been Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf in Granny’s Pajamas. A few friends and family members stole this idea for other Halloween parties. The guy in the equation chose a robe to throw over his clothes. Not James. He picked out a short-sleeved, scoop-necked nightgown. Lavendar with flowers. And an orange child’s sized “wolf” hood and a snout. He looked like an elderly female dog wearing a caftan, but I thought it was awesome and everyone laughed. Last year we were supposed to be a barnyard family: Philip was a horse, James was a cow, (but the udders were a little risqué, he realized once he got to the party and was groped all night), and I had a tasteful French Maid outfit I’d strapped baby bottles to the apron of to be their Milk Maid. Long story short, James went alone because Philip got sick and puked all over me. Anyone need a slightly-used French Maid outfit?

Some of the costumes have been incredibly simple, but I’ve never forgotten them. Some have been from other parties, too, that stuck with me. Here are a few of my personal favorites:

• Hooter’s Waitress: My friend Dwayne pulled this off, complete with the official outfit of tight T, short shorts and tray. But he made himself look elderly, made fake boobies out of panty hose that hung down beneath the cropped top, had in fake teeth and a cigarette with tons of lipstick on it sitting on the tray.
• Bok Choy Man: Literally strapped Bok Choy all over himself. Everyone laughed all night. Sounds stupid, but it was really funny.
• Miss Conception: A girl made herself look pregnant in an evening gown and strapped a beauty queen banner across her chest with Miss Conception in glitter. Brilliant.
• Either Sigfried or Roy: The one that got attacked. Dwayne again. Stuffed an adult-sized Tigger outfit and tied it around his neck, which he covered in blood.
• Drowned Rat: I don’t remember her name, but my friend David went as the little girl from The Ring. Hilarious.
• The Red Hat Society: Dwayne again. Hysterical.
• Missing Pet: There is a Far Side cartoon of a woman posting signs saying Missing Cat: Reward, and the cat is tucked into her crack, that you have probably seen. Two girls had handed out flyers saying Missing Cat and Missing Dog all over the party, but I didn’t get the costume. Until I saw them turn around. They had sewn tiny Beanie Babies into the crack of their pants.
• Brokeback Mountain: Dwayne again. Dressed in cowboy garb and carried a little blowup sheep.
• I did not see this one personally, but heard about it: a friend went as a Hummel figurine, dressed in lederhosen and posed with a basket of roses all night.

Though it would have been funny, I talked James out of one of his best ideas, purely because of logistics. He wanted to go as Dick Cheney. He wanted to buy one of those costumes that’s kind of an inflatable penis. And wrap a chain around it. I have to admit, I couldn’t stop laughing. However, let’s imagine he got pulled over. Or had to pump gas because the car got low. Or stop for beer. Could you imagine just going about your business and seeing that thing climb out of the car next to you? Okay, now I’m about to wet my pants, I’m laughing so hard.

We have been scheming, (“we” meaning me), for months to come up with a good idea. I am open to suggestions. There are four of us, so we can do something relating to one another. CAUTION: Do not suggest the Wiggles if you want to continue living. Actually, that’s not true. Our impending infant daughter, Evelyn, will be a Whoopi Cushion, courtesy of our friend Angela. It’s a warm bunting outfit, very funny. But we may just hire a sitter and go by ourselves, so it’s anyone’s game. I really want Philip to be a garden gnome.

This is what I’ve come up with so far:

• Black Snake Moan: Since I will have given birth less than a month before, I would opt for the Samuel L. wife-beater t-shirt and jeans, making James wear the cropped flag t-shirt and undies, complete with chain.
• Mr. Heat-Miser and Mr. Freeze: This could be really funny to do, and pretty easy to create cheaply on a sewing machine.
• Kermit and Miss Piggy: I would love for James and Philip to do this for the ratio of size. How funny would that be for Philip to be a tiny frog and James to go as Piggy, especially since there is a large chance I’ll be stuck at home with the baby. Comedian David Wain went as Piggy last year and it was brilliant. Also cheap and easy to create.

See, I suck at Halloween. I need Nerdy help. Please suggest all you can and help me not embarrass myself this year at the Halloween party. Or I’ll end up with Dick Cheney at my side, and I’m not sure I can cope with people nudging me in the arm all night saying, “Man, that guy’s such a prick.”

 
You know a show is good when you’re already laughing just from the opening credits. HBO’s Flight of the Conchords has steadily become one of my favorite shows for the odd, unusual humor of duo Jemaine Clement and Bret McKenzie, New Zealand’s fourth-rated folk duo. Intelligent humor is always the best kind, and this nerdy pair makes you work to get all the laughs buried in each episode. Case in point: Bret leaves the band in one episode and Jemaine and Murray hold auditions. The sign on the door lists the qualifications to fill Bret’s spot. You’ll miss them if you don’t pause. They include “Have curly hair,” and “Play guitar, but not very well.” There are also the slogans for the New Zealand posters on Murray’s office walls. Some are blatant and some I’ve missed while my husband was nearly on the floor from the limitations of Murray’s Commodore Vic 20 computer, and Bret’s 1983 Casio DG electric guitar set to electric mandolin and drums.

(On a side note, you also know you are officially out of the cultural loop when your seventy year old Mother calls to ask if you watch the show and fills you in on what it is.)

 
Every episode features the bumbling adventures of the New Zealanders as they settle in New York City and try to make it big on the music scene with aid from an officer of the New Zealand Consulate. They have one über-fan, Mel, whose tongue often begins moving out of her mouth ready to French Kiss the two while speaking to them outside their apartment and they often have to repeat things more than ten times for people to decipher their accents. The genres of music have spanned from French pop, a tribute to David Bowie, Reggae, and bow-chic-a-bow-bow booty songs. Their talents are amazing.  

Aside from the show, there are several snippets from their live performances on YouTube that are often much better than the renditions on the television show. Case in point: “Business Time.” Worked into the show, it’s funny, but slow and full of quirky filming. The live version is all about the facial expressions of Jemaine and a little more revved up. It’s also interesting to watch Bret perform “She’s So Hot – BOOM!” live as opposed to the animation-fueled version in the show. Both are wonderful, but seeing it in one shot in the live performance makes you appreciate his talent even more. On the flip side, there is “Rhymnoserous vs. Hiphopapotomus.” This is much funnier in the show than on the stage, because you are able to hear all the lyrics better, and again, the facial expressions of Jemaine are priceless. Yes, I love Jemaine. My husband knows. He’s okay with it. But I’m okay with his Nicole Kidman fascination…

There is little I can say of the show without spoiling the episodes if you have not yet had the pleasure of their unique, boyish company bestowed upon you in your living room. Go to YouTube and indulge a little. You won’t be disappointed.
 

All parents at one time or another are going to be subjected to the world of toddler television. It’s a painful, song-filled world of creepy adults dressed in horrifying costumes, singing dinosaurs, cross-dressing rapping grannies and baby-voiced animated four-year olds who can’t wipe their own bottoms. It’s awful.

I had decided before my son Philip was born I would not let him watch any television aside from Sesame Street, but a few months into my stay at home, I realized my entertainment value wasn’t as much as I had thought and my creativity was running dry. So, reluctantly, I turned on Disney.

We all know They Might Be Giants have contributed to the world of children’s music, and are responsible for the great theme song, “Boss of Me,” from Malcolm In The Middle. What I did not know is that they are slowly becoming a big name on the Disney circuit, creating theme songs for a few of the shows.

The mornings on Disney are reserved for infants and toddlers, full of mini-shows and programs filled with easy to understand, colorful, basic programs. They are fun and keep the attention of even the smallest child. In between programs, they show videos or shorts, and one morning in particular was the video for the wonderful nesting-doll show, Higglytown Heros. I’d heard of the show, but you can imagine my surprise when two familiar looking figures appeared as animated nesting dolls. There were the two Johns, one with a guitar, one with an accordion, singing their hearts out along with Ubi, Wayne, Twinkle, Kip and Fran. It’s hilarious, and the song is fantastic, as always.

But here’s the reason for writing this. As Philip has grown up, we have been getting involved in play groups, meeting to let the kids get energy out, develop interpersonal skills, and have fun playing with each other. Often, lunch is involved, which always means someone in the group is eating a hotdog cut into a thousand pieces. Thanks to TMBG, a hotdog isn’t just a hotdog anymore.

The geniuses at Disney hired TMBG to rejuvenate the Mickey Mouse theme song for their newish series The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. It’s a great computer animated series with Mickey and the gang using their Mouskatools to solve problems. The theme song includes the regular spelling out of Mickey’s name, but includes a fun contribution of Flansburg calling out in one of his fun voices “ROLL CALL!!!” and shouting out each name of the characters, Mickey, Goofy, Donald, etc.

The show ends with Mickey asking the kids to dance in celebration of solving the problems, and the song “Hot Dog!” begins. This is the best song ever, and now, wherever I go and children are there, all I have to do, (and yes, I’ve tested this many times…seriously, I have), is say “HOT DOG!” and a chorus of children begin to sing “Hot Dog, Hot Dog, Hot Diggity Dog, we’re splittin’ the scene, we’re full of beans! Get up, get out, the problem’s solved! Hot Dog, Hot Dog, Hot Diggity Dog!”

A new generation of TMBG fans is forming. And they don’t even know it.

The Office opened my eyes in recent episodes. When co-workers began to scheme for who might obtain Michael Scott’s job if he went to Corporate, the strengths of Dunder-Mifflin long-timer Dwight Schrute became more evident, and I realized how much more qualified this fictional character was to be President than the actual President. Who doesn’t want to see the Oval Office painted black to show dominance?

Really. I mean, the wood paneling and Eagles are so outdated, and I think it betrays a certain submissiveness to not just take over and decorate it your own way. Clearly by not giving the office his personal touch, Dub-ya has shown he is not confident in his longevity or his place within the White House walls. Black is always the new black.

National security has been a major issue in the years since the War on Terror, and it seems information is often leaked. Dwight Schrute wouldn’t have this problem on his watch. Each security code would be password protected by a mythical creature. Think of how slim a population, (especially those who are potential terrorists and on a time budget), would be able to figure the passwords out, decode the meaning behind why a specific creature was chosen for what specific guardian duty, and how to spell them correctly.

Laura Bush is lovely, I’m sure. But she’s a candy-ass, and I don’t like that. You might say the alternative is Hillary Clinton, but even then, she was okay, just a little too obvious with her own political aspirations.

Now Angela, Dwight’s air-tight mistress, would be an amazing First Lady. She’s a bitch. Who doesn’t want to see that? Pursed lips and lacy collars would be a very poignant addition. That kind of opinionated, non-PC gumption is just what the image of the First Lady needs. We’ve had far too many years of plastic liars and a breath of fresh, brutal reality could be nice for a change. I would be far more interested in hopping on Angela’s platform of ridding college campuses of dorm sluts than giving a crap about such things as Education and trees. Come on, people!

Dwight’s first order of business would most likely be a good house-cleaning session. You can already hear the query to his advisors. “Question: Who can I fire?” His additions would be interesting. I would imagine among many a sensei and bear tracker, there might also be a few castaways from Lost he would spend an obscene amount of taxpayers’ money to rescue from Freaky-Deaky Island in order to comprise his National Security staff. Namely Sayid Jarrah and Ben Linus. Sayid is a self-proclaimed torturer and Ben is handy with mind games, very similar to Dwight. And if you read his web log, (he does not like the term “blog”), Schrute-Space, (which I do), you would know just how important Lost really is in the world of Dwight K. Schrute.

Campaign trail theme songs and slogans have gotten a little dull in the past few years, but I imagine Dwight could add some verve with his choices. Back up his “BEET OFF WITH SCHRUTE” signs with a little White Zombie. Who wouldn’t vote for THAT guy!!

So…Forget Barack Obama, Dennis Kucinich and Hillary Clinton. Vote for Dwight K. Schrute, Assistant Regional Manager of Dunder-Mifflin, Scranton, PA.

My memories of Sesame Street-a production of the Children’s Television Workshop – are of happy times on a colorful avenue where I would have loved to live. There was always singing, everyone was happy, and jolly fun puppets roamed the Earth.

Take a look at it now. Your memories, if they are anything like mine, are not accurate. Watching Sesame Street with my son the last couple of months has been an eye-opening experience. It’s absolutely nothing like I thought, and it isn’t just the addition of several characters, including Zoe, Elmo and Rosita. It’s just a brown street with little color and the same problems as the real world.

The most alarming thing on the Street would be the adults. Most of them look exactly the same, especially Gordon. It’s their demeanor that seems to have changed. They are very unsupportive of the puppets, except a few of the younger ones. Most of the time if Big Bird, Snuffy or Oscar have a problem, they roll their eyes (not kidding), huff and seem generally put out being interrupted from their duties. The only person slightly tolerant of their antics is Alan, the Asian grocery store/restaurant owner. Luis, who was a favorite and always seemed very compassionate to the monsters, is hardly around. I fear for his marriage to fellow human Maria, but she’s still there and sometimes the episode pops up where he enlists the monsters to help him make huevos rancheros for her. But that seems to be the extent of their marriage now. Bob is seldom around, and when he did appear the other day, I have to tell you I disagree with the way he treated Fluffy, Oscar’s pet elephant. He didn’t want her to play the W Game with him and Elmo. At least she lashed back and spit water out her trunk at him-which began with W. I had no memory of Gina, an attractive blonde studying to be a veterinarian. She humors the puppets, but most of the time she tells them to stop bothering her because she’s studying.

What example does this set to children? “You’re right. Adults really are WAY too busy to bother with you. Shut up and leave them alone.” Is that the word on the Street these days?

The random times my husband is home to catch a glimpse, he is angered by a very obvious omission in these later episodes. Since the dawn of Elmo, Grover got the shaft. He is no longer flying through the air as Super Grover and only appears in old clips of him as the bumbling waiter. They even added a song about his getting older called “I Do Not Jump Around Much Anymore,” (a play on “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore.”) The absence of Cookie Monster, Count, the memorable One Two Three FOUR FIVE Six Seven Eight NINE TEN eleven twelve, and Teeny Little Super Guy are also deeply felt. Very rarely will you see any of this.

Some of the more beloved characters have not aged well, in particular Ernie’s Rubber Ducky. That thing is nasty! You can see the dirt, and I am not exaggerating. It’s disgusting. You would have thought with all the money they make from merchandise, they could afford to make another damn duck. But no. It’s the same one he’s always had. Very disgusting and unhygienic. I think this point is enough to put to rest the rumors of Ernie’s sexuality, because no gay man I’ve ever been friends with would allow a skanky quacker in their house. And the only thing Bert “is” is an obsessive compulsive with a penchant for paper clips.

Big Bird, once a favorite, is now the most annoying character in the crew. Does anyone else remember him always piping out “La, la, la”? I don’t. But he does it. Often. And out of tune. He is also very nonchalant about pretty much everything, prone to outbursts of jealousy in regard for Snuffy, and is rude to several of the other characters. He is also the oldest, but the most indecisive of the bunch. The episode where he’s choosing a new food to try drives me crazy. It takes him the entire hour to pick from one of three recipes.

If you want to talk about strange relationships, dive into that of he and Snuffy. Forget Bert and Ernie. Most of the time, they sit watching each other lovingly and showering each other with compliments of deep admiration. They will do anything for each other-except share each other’s company with another person.

My new favorite character is Telly Monster. Talk about comic relief for the adults. Telly is in serious need of Prozac, and I wish they would have a “special” episode where Telly sees the Psychiatrist. They even added a vignette where it’s just him against a blank background showing the letter of the day and the announcer says, “And now, Telly has 15 seconds to find something that begins with the letter T.” It’s just him freaking out for 15 seconds, screaming, “OH MY GOSH! How am I supposed to do this???? Someone should have told me!!!!” Then he realizes he begins with a T. It’s awesome.

The new characters seem to be more well-rounded than the older characters, and a little more human. They seem to have more going on than just one gimmick and have more personal interactions with the adults, especially Maria and Alan. Rosita is Spanish. She enjoys making new friends and finding out about people she isn’t that familiar with on the street and getting to know them better, and she’s a photographer. She is also fickle, because she has named two different people her best friend, including Harry Monster and Prairie Dawn.

Zoe is your typical kid who doesn’t like to share and makes up silly excuses to get out of it. She also enjoys pretty much only one thing, like all other kids: repetition. Zoe likes to ride the Zoemobile Maria made her at The Fix-It Shop, and that’s pretty much it. She won’t share it with anyone unless they say they won’t play with her ever again.

And even then, it takes some serious deliberation on her part.

There is more to Elmo than the “Tickle Me” aspect, I promise. He’s actually hysterically funny, entertaining, and a great teaching tool for the children. They respond to him above any other character and actually start doing things he asks them to do. …Now…if he starts telling them to build a giant Cyborg to kill all adults and take over the world, I might start to get concerned, but so far, it’s just small tasks like showing where your ears are or showing him a shoe. He also features the amazing talents of Broadway vets Bill Irwin and Michael Jeeter as Mr. Noodle and Mr. Noodle’s Brother.

Sesame Street will always have a special place in my heart, I’m just surprised how boring and unentertaining it seems, with the exception of Elmo’s World. While I miss the old aspects that bring back wonderful memories, I do understand the need to keep abreast of changing times. They just aren’t doing a very good job. They are in the age of The Wiggles now – fast-paced, very well-written true entertainment with brilliant songs and animations. The Sesame Street Workshop needs to buy a new duck, give the puppets, (who are getting matted and visibly dirty themselves), a bath and move into the 21st Century. Or at least refurbish the stuff that used to make it so unmistakably great.

For no reason at all, John Denver’s classic “Annie’s Song” popped into my head last week and I haven’t been able to get it out. I couldn’t remember all the words, but had the gist of the song. The only clear thing I remembered was a very sinister-but-pleasant parody song they used to play on Dr. Demento that I loved that began, “And now, the sounds of John Denver being strangled to death.” Then the singer would begin using a very fake country accent and mess the words up with something like “You laid on my pillow…” instead of the actual lyrics, until he begins violently choking and eventually dies.

But back to present day- I could not get this damn song out of my head. It drove me so crazy, I finally had to download it on iTunes. There was no other way to confront it and put it to rest. After downloading the song and paying 99 cents I knew I would regret, I hit play and began to clean off my desk, another unpleasant thing that has been plaguing me. I couldn’t clean.

John Denver was a musical genius. Dr. Demento didn’t have time to enter my mind, I was so captivated by his voice…and the REALLY bad album cover picture they have of him advertising his Greatest Hits, (you remember it: the bowl haircut, the cowboy hat and the beady eyes.) Suddenly I was flooded with memories of sitting in the living room as a kid, with my siblings singing along to that song and “Thank God I’m A Country Boy.” Our family wasn’t so flush with cash, so what we lacked in Cable TV and Coke clothing we made up for in my much older brother’s LPs that had been left behind. Though I didn’t watch V and couldn’t tell you the name of a single Fraggle, I can recite all the lyrics to The Who’s Tommy and basically any hit of The Supremes, Simon & Garfunkel and Bread.

John Denver was an artist whose joy and pure love of music rang true in his voice. You could always hear how much fun he was having, or that a particular lyric was truly felt in the way he delivered it. His music could be fun, and it could make me feel like I just wanted to hug someone. It’s especially interesting to hear John Denver with my son sitting on my lap. Always one to run around and never catch his breath or sit down…He stops for The Denver. Even sat on my lap and let me rock him to “Annie’s Theme” on more than one occasion, which has made it well worth the 99 cents. There aren’t many artists whose music you can sing along with anymore. My son will only know Karen Carpenter and the Mamas and the Papas if I provide the example.

My personal quest has begun. My children will be well-versed in their own pop culture, but I will make sure they will also be well-versed in mine and the generation before mine, too. It really pains me to think that I had to rediscover John Denver this late in the game. Nothing angers me more than to hear this American Idol generation desecrate the musical forefathers, even though back in the day, I was guilty of the same thing, (i.e. a conversation with my principal in which the song “I Saw Her Standing There” came up, and I argued that the song was not by the Beatles, but by Tiffany and was actually titled “I Saw HIM Standing There.” Yes, I feel utter shame at the thought of it.)

Last year, I remember thinking somewhere in the Heavens I heard Judy Garland’s cocktail hit the ground as I passed a teenager who said, “My favorite song is ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’ by Katherine McPhee.” Though I wanted to knock the girl down as she passed, I didn’t. It just angers me that whole generations of kids are being raised believing Constantine originated the song “I Think I Love You.” Don’t make me go Bonaduce on your ass, you crazy generation. At least know the history of where it came from and feel the beauty of David Cassidy in all his glory, not some skank who can only perfect the “power look” into the camera and not perfect a true power vocal.

One of my biggest disagreements with this problem is the bastardization of some wonderful songs from both the pop and music theatre worlds. The worst I’ve come across so far is “Feeling Good” by Michael Buble. And yes, I know it’s pronounced Boo-blay, but I still call him Bubble Boy. Anyway, his big-band, sexy, James Bond version of this song has been over-popularized to the point that again, young hopefuls on American Idol are giving him credit for the song. The actual song, written by music theatre heroes of mine, Anthonly Newley and Leslie Bricusse, is from the musical The Roar of the Greasepaint – The Smell of the Crowd, an interesting look at the Have’s vs. the Have Not’s playing an actual game of life in which you can overcome your unfortunate status if you can overthrow bureaucracy and win “the game.” The song takes place when the character of The Negro suddenly achieves freedom, and the song is his response. It is a powerful, deeply moving song that leaves people speechless when done right. However, it disgusts me that an entire generation has no idea what the song actually means, and that it isn’t supposed to sound like the theme to Perry Mason…not that they would even know who he is.

…But I digress.

Download “Annie’s Song” or the entire Greatest Hits album from John Denver. It’s worth the .99 or 9.99. Plenty of beautiful tunes, great lyrics…and a “Country Road” ready to take you home.