Pioneer Valley Days

Joe's TV List Chugs the Caf-Pow

#31: NCIS
(CBS, 2003-present)

NCIS (or, as Jenn and I pronounce it, "nickis") is a perfect example of strong cast chemistry lifting a series. But more than that, I've increasingly come to appreciate the high-wire difficulty of what NCIS manages to pull off, tone-wise. Specifically, it's a crime procedural (set loosely in the Navy) with some pretty grim subject matter and hard-hitting emotions. But it's also funny, packed with playful banter and character quirks. I'm frankly awed at how the writers and cast maintain the balance. Lose the nuttiness, and you have CSI. Tilt the balance too far the other way, and ... well, you have Scrubs when you were shooting for ER. Yeah, some of it doesn't work; Ziva's mixups with American idioms always take me out of the moment. But that's hardly a problem when the character is Mossad-trained in the art of kicking bad-guy ass. Mark Harmon's the perfect anchor for all the focused chaos, and Pauley Perrette's Abby, fueled by intellect, caffeine, and salty snacks, is one of the great comic creations in any crime drama. Considering how good this show has become, Sasha Alexander might want to reconsider that bullet in the head.

Joe's TV List Gets a Speeding Ticket

#32: Late Night with David Letterman
and The Late Show with David Letterman
(NBC, 1982-1993; CBS, 1993-present)

David Letterman probably realized the power he wields long before Meg Parsont's birthday in 1992, when he had a Manhattan street closed off so that a marching band could spell out her name below her window at Simon & Schuster. His move to CBS the following year effectively spelled the end of his cheerful intrusions on Meg's life. But a new location offered new friends, like Mujibur & Sirajul and Rupert Gee, and Dave just kept on cementing his place as our generation's Steve Allen, mixing irony, self-deprecation, and man-on-the-street charm for what is now more than a quarter-century. Of course, Allen never donned a velcro suit and threw himself against a wall or had himself dunked in a tank of water wearing thousands of Alka-Seltzer tablets, to name just two of Dave's early stunts, not to mention the venerable Top 10 Lists, Stupid Pet Tricks, or live feeds to Mom. He may be the most unpredictable of late-night interviewers -- I mean, Leno typically doesn't get cursed out or flashed (as Letterman did by Cher and Drew Barrymore, respectively) -- but Dave balances the smarm with genuine feeling (the post-9/11 show, the return from heart surgery). I don't stay up late enough to watch him anymore, but hopefully a new generation of college students is tuning in. Even if it's just to see what Dave throws off his roof next.

Make Sure It's Deep ... We Have Dogs

If I should suddenly disappear one of these days, you might want to check the backyard.

Joe's TV List Rocks on the Front Porch

#33: Evening Shade
(CBS, 1990-1994)

I've never been a Burt Reynolds fan, per se, but I've always admired the way, especially in the second half of his career, he'll take on anything, jumping gleefully from Boogie Nights to a cameo as God (or the devil?) in a wonderfully quirky X-Files episode. He just seems to enjoy himself, and the best evidence is Evening Shade, for which he basically gathered a bunch of his close friends -- Marilu Henner, Charles Durning, Michael Jeter, Hal Holbrook, Ossie Davis, the list goes on -- and, for the most part, played it straight and let the other nuts cavort in the spotlight. The result was one of the deepest, most chemistry-laden casts in TV history, in the service of something truly rare: a comedy series of genuine warmth that was also terrifically funny. I'm still quite fond of Evening Shade even though today we can recognize the diabolical motives of its creators, Linda and Harry Thomason, who clearly were softening up America for the ascendance of their pals, Bill and Hillary. "Hell, I'll vote for him," many probably said. "Those two are from Arkansas, and by golly, if they're anything like Wood Newton and the gang, it'll be a great time for everyone!" Of course, when scandals began to emerge early in Bill's presidency, supporters just said, "aw, I still like 'em. And anyway, what's the harm? It's not like they'll ever cause trouble for us Democrats!"

Joe's TV List Furrows Its Brow

#34: Twin Peaks
(ABC, 1990-1991)

So, I told all my college pals, there’s this new show coming out that is going to change the face of television, and you have to watch it. At first, many did. After a few episodes, not so many. Oh, I tried to explain that what they were seeing actually made some sense, that we have to trust David Lynch, he’s brilliant, and the repeated motifs of doughnuts and owls and logs and dancing dwarfs are all very meaningful, and you just have to keep watching. And then the season ended, and we didn’t know who killed Laura Palmer, but it didn’t matter, because it was all so deep and artistic and atmospheric. I even bought the soundtrack and the Julee Cruise album to tide myself over. And then the second season began, and the murderer was revealed, but maybe not, because there was this malevolent spirit, Bob, who possessed Laura’s dad and eventually possessed Agent Cooper after kidnapping his girlfriend and taking her to the Black Lodge, which may or may not have been just a place in Cooper’s head, and my face wrinkled into a contemplative stare as I knew, just knew, that it all had to mean something, ’cause this was David Lynch, dammit, and he was going to change television. But the rest of America had already changed … the channel. Damn fine effort anyway, Mr. Lynch. Thanks for screwing with us.

Joe's TV List Has Just One Hour

#35: Iron Chef (Fuji, 1993-1999)
and Top Chef (Bravo, 2006-present)

Yup, this is cheating. But I had to include both these cookoffs, and if I listed them separately, I’d have to eliminate That’s Incredible at #50, and I’m not about to do that, because, hey, a guy ate a whole bike. Which was, sadly, never one of the featured ingredients on the original, Japanese Iron Chef, although I’m sure it received some consideration before giving way to sea urchins or natto or Fukui-san’s toenails. It was great TV, highlighted by creations like cod roe ice cream and characters like Hiroyuki Sakai, the French chef who dressed like a lobster but could never, ever properly prepare one. America tried to drop a cultural bomb on Iron Chef with an appalling, William Shatner-hosted mockery that lasted two episodes; the second attempt at a U.S. remake, truer to the original, has endured, but I’ve watched it only sporadically. Far better is Top Chef, which brews up an innovative meld of speed cooking and elimination shows like Survivor. Crankypants Tom Colicchio and the mellower ex-Mrs. Rushdie make an appealing Simon-and-Paula duo (would that make Ted Allen Randy?), while their charges walk a knife's edge between mouthwatering inspiration and laughable disaster (um, airplane broccolini, anyone?). Utensils down and fauxhawks up, the show simply cooks with adrenaline.

Joe's TV List Brings Over Some Food

#36: Everybody Loves Raymond
(CBS, 1996-2005)

Make no mistake – no matter who you are, it’s easy to call Everybody Loves Raymond one of the most pitch-perfect comedies of the past 20 years, but it’s even funnier if you’re married. I suspect it gets better the longer you’ve been married, which may explain why it’s the only show besides FOX News and American Idol that my parents in Carolina watch. One time, on a visit, I called them Frank and Marie, and my mom was all, “we’re not like that, are we?” – her tone was mildly incredulous, but it was funny because you could hear in her voice the creeping possibility that it could be true. (It’s not, seriously. Then again, we’ve only stayed for a few days at a time.) Raymond certainly boasts one of the greatest ensembles in sitcom history, but I’m pretty sure it has forever ruined my favorite X-Files case, “Clyde Bruckman’s Final Repose,” because now, whenever Peter Boyle’s on screen in that episode, all I’m going to hear in my head is Doris Roberts yelling, “Frank, it’s bad enough you go around predicting other people’s deaths, but now foreseeing your own! Have you even considered how this is affecting me? How could you be so insensitive?” And then she’ll make Mulder and Scully eat something.

Joe's TV List Just Ate, Thank You Very Much

#37: Criminal Minds
(CBS, 2005-present)

"So, what’s on the DVR?"
"Let’s see … well, we can watch Criminal Minds, with the first five minutes no doubt featuring a faceless character slowly and cheerfully torturing a crying, terrified woman before ending her life in some unthinkably horrific way, while her young child is probably forced to watch. Then there will be an hour of sharply written, character-driven drama featuring one of the most appealing, cohesive casts currently assembled on TV, whether or not you’ve fully come around to Fat Tony replacing Inigo. Of course, this narrative will be interspersed with a couple more brutal abductions, tortures, and deaths involving women, children, and occasionally cute fluffy dogs, before reaching a downbeat but ambiguously satisfying ending. Whattaya say?"
"Um, hey, look, we also taped Men in Trees."
"Yeah, let’s watch that."

Joe's TV List Synchronizes Its Swatch

#38: Parker Lewis Can't Lose
(FOX, 1990-1993)

One of the earlier FOX comedies, this ripoff of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off far outlasted NBC’s actual, sanctioned Ferris Bueller spinoff. But while both featured a cocky hero, a meddlesome sister, a loyal friend or two, and a principal-as-nemesis, Parker Lewis was the superior product partly because of its conceptual hook, which was to cast a broadly surrealistic sheen over the world of Santo Domingo High School – hence, Ms. Musso’s ever-shattering door and the very existence of Larry Kubiak, a walking cartoon (played by a young Abraham Benrubi) always on the prowl for his next meal. A bunch of us at college used to cross the street for Taco Bell takeout on Sunday nights before crashing in front of FOX for Parker Lewis (followed by In Living Color and The Simpsons); our pal Ken, who never liked to miss a meal and was always knocking on our doors to gather us to the cafeteria, eventually appropriated a guttural, Kubiakesque “fooood” or “eat now” when summoning his dinner companions. Almost two decades later, that’s what still goes through my mind whenever I watch Men in Trees. Well, that and “Krycek’s a pastor?”

Joe's TV List Is Not a News Broadcast

#39: Unsolved Mysteries
(NBC, 1987-1997; CBS, 1997-1999)

You watched it for the crime stories, cheesily re-enacted by actors who lacked the talent to land any other job. You watched it for the emotional tales of long-lost loves or estranged family members suddenly meeting after decades apart. You watched it for the government conspiracy theories and supernatural tales: haunted houses, miracles, UFO sightings, and alien abductions, all related with a straight face and ultra-serious demeanor by Robert Stack, possibly the single most perfect reality-TV host, at least until the glorious arrival of Phil Keoghan. And you looked forward to the breathless update that ended each episode, telling you of how your phone calls (yes, yours!) led to the capture of another crazed killer, putting Unsolved Mysteries only 132 captures behind America’s Most Wanted, which was slightly more diligent about, you know, results. But you didn’t care, because your show had something John Walsh could never dream of: that unforgettable Unsolved Mysteries music. Yes, that gently creepy, relentless, coffin-door whine that bookended every segment. Oh, you remember it. It’s in your head right now, in fact. It will remain there for some time. Good luck sleeping tonight.

Joe's TV List Turns a Can into a Cane

#40: The Electric Company
(PBS, 1971-1977)

Hey you guuuuuys! If we’re going to add new blood to the cast of Heroes, why not Letterman? By simply pulling a letter from his shirt, narrator Joan Rivers told us, the guy could turn, say, a peanut butter and jam sandwich into a peanut butter and ham sandwich. Think about it: today, he could singlehandedly stop global conflict: for example, he could turn Iran into bran, immediately redirecting that nation’s aggression toward fighting cholesterol and poor digestion. Alas, such thoughts are the residue of the mind-bending education we 1970s youngsters received from The Electric Company, sketch comedy that was, at least in its final two seasons, structured as in-the-classroom curriculum (I can vouch for the half-hour of free time this show gave my first-grade teacher). So that’s how a generation of kids wound up learning phonics and reading skills from the likes of Morgan Freeman, Rita Moreno, and Spiderman. Yes, Spidey was somehow involved. I don’t think Miss Tufano cared, as long as we all made like silent E and just watched the damn TV.

Joe's TV List Saves the World

#41: Heroes
(NBC, 2006-present)

Sort of like X-Men without a training school, Heroes posits a similar next-step-in-evolution concept, tossing a bunch of engaging-but-clueless folks into a brave new world of genetic hardwiring, and stirring in a supervillian who collects powers by mentally sawing off people’s scalps. And you know what? Despite its occasional pretentiousness, it’s great TV. (Extra points for being the only serialized show that foresaw the writer’s strike by shortening and wrapping up its plot in season 2.) But when it comes to powers, why stop at flying, teleportation, regeneration, invisibility, walking through walls, and the like? How about some powers for us everyday shmoes? Super line-cutting would be awesome at the DMV. And what about super metabolism? All the burgers and nachos you want, and never gain a pound! Of course, you might eventually need a super stent followed by a regimen of super statins, but hey, you’d look great on the gurney! Complacent Heroes, we’d call this brand-new cast. But the kid who talks to machines can stay -- because there’s no friend like an obedient ATM.

Joe's TV List Makes a Plea

#42: Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?
(ABC, 1999-2002; syndicated, 2002-present)

Dear Meredith:

I can't deny the truth: we've drifted apart. Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm just boring. All I know is, your show should be much higher on this list. Maybe in the 20s, even. It probably would have ranked that high back in 2006, when I was still a bright-eyed kid dreaming of raking in a bunch of dough playing a trivia game. I traveled to New York, aced your test, and smiled cheerfully when one of your production assistants asked me about my interests and my life as a stay-at-home dad. I thought I was impressive, but still I found, in my mailbox two weeks later, the postcard of despair. Why didn't you want me? I wondered, while Millionaire, still a much-watched show in our house, quietly slipped into the 30s on a wave of disillusionment. I went back later that season and even sat in the studio audience before taking the test again. This time, I failed outright. I was devastated -- you never even got to read my scintillating answers to the application questionnaire, which were so much more incisive and witty than the first time. I was clearly doubting myself at this point, and my ability to make our relationship work.

But I kept trying, kept struggling to bridge the gulf that had come between us. I went back to the city in 2007, passed the test again, and had a great chat with the interviewer about the dream Jenn and I have of opening up a dog agility training center. I thought it was gold; who in your audience doesn't like dogs? Yet, two weeks later, an0ther bad p0stcard. I thought we were done. Millionaire had clearly slipped into the 40s on my mental list by now, but I kept watching, kept dreaming. Yet, it could never be the same. Could it?

Anyway, Meredith, I thought of you again when I started preparing my top-50 list for public viewing, and I despaired at how far you had fallen. So I made a decision. I would try again. And yesterday, I went back to ABC, sat down, and retook the darn test. I aced it, and once again brought my dog dreams before your production assistant. I even included in my application a picture of Mavi and me running a course. Your interviewer said she has a lab. We kind of bonded. Didn't we? And could it ever be ... right between us again?

Tell you what. Send the happy postcard this time, and I will move you up the list. Call me for the hot seat, and you're positively hurtling up the list. You might even push Happy Days out of the top 10. As for now, you're way, way too close to Silver Spoons. You're better than that, Meredith. I'm better than that. The world can be better than that. So, can we make this work? As Barack -- or, actually, Bob the Builder -- would say, yes, we can.

Love, Joe

Soccer. Soccer! SOCCER!

With apologies to the "Monster Detectives" episode of The Backyardigans:

"I am a soccer monster--
I cannot get my fill.
And when I get bored at practice,
I just roll down the hill.
I'm faster than a springer,
more annoying than a cocker,
and my green shirt shimmers
as I rock the field in soccer.

Soccer! It's a clear blue sky.
Soccer! My Pull-Up is dry.
Soccer! Can you handle some more?
Soccer! Pass, shoot, score!
Pass, shoot, score!"

Now can I get a cheeseburger, Mommy?

Joe's TV List Shows No Mercy

#43: South Park
(Comedy Central, 1997-present)

OK, say you're easily offended. Then say you're a Christian. Or a Jew. Or a Muslim. Or a Mormon. Or a Scientologist. Or say you're a woman. Or a man. Or perhaps you're black. Or white. Or Asian. Maybe you're gay. Or straight. Or liberal. Or conservative. Or just minding your own business and flipping channels. Well, flip right by South Park, which is merrily celebrating its 11th year of pissing you off for no good reason except that you take yourself too seriously. Trey Parker and Matt Stone continue to write, direct, and edit every episode -- occasionally with three- or four-day turnaround times, allowing them to respond quickly to any real-world headline -- and they don't particularly care who gets caught in the satirical crossfire. Which makes this perhaps the most intellectually honest, least agenda-driven show on TV, and certainly the only series ever to (a) use the s-word 162 times in one half-hour, (b) use the n-word 42 times in another episode, (c) feature a talking stool sample, and (d) win a Peabody Award. That's right, a Peabody. Of course, the South Park movie lost a Best Song Oscar to Phil Collins, so take all awards with a grain of salt.

Joe's TV List Kicks Ass at Tempest

#44: Silver Spoons
(NBC, 1982-1986; syndicated, 1986-1987)

During its first season, Silver Spoons was appointment television for a certain geeky 12-year-old. (The fact that it aired on Saturdays should tell you something about my social life.) Oh, how I marveled at my young, suddenly wealthy hero, Rick, and his many Very Special adventures, like finding a homeless family in a cave in his backyard ... and hiring Mr. T as a bodyguard to fend off bullies ... and dressing in drag so Jason Bateman could have a date to a party ... and teaming up with Arnold from Diff'rent Strokes to hack into classified military intelligence ... and taking a shower with the Maytag man ... oh, wait, that was also Diff'rent Strokes. Now I'm confused. Anyway, I'm sure Rick had many other adventures, but I eventually lost interest. So did young Mr. Bateman, who bailed after two seasons, apparently realizing that, even though he'd have to languish for 15 years with nothing but Teen Wolf 2 on his resume before reclaiming a respectable career, such a wait had to beat spending any more time with the Rickster. Even though he swears nothing happened on their date.

Joe's TV List Is Crushed by Falling Plaster

#45: The Apprentice
(NBC, 2004-present)

I almost didn't include this in my top 50, simply because it has gotten so silly in recent seasons. Then I looked at what else I was including and realized silliness isn't exactly a deal-breaker for this list. When NBC first started promoting The Apprentice, I thought, great ... a bunch of successful, ambitious, type-A wheeler-dealers running around New York. Sounds, um, charming. But when I realized these people would be set up for mockery on a weekly basis -- by a real-life cartoon character awash in self-importance and tacky gold apartment furnishings, no less -- well, sure, I thought, I'll watch that. Yeah, the show was better with George and Carolyn (although they do defrost George and wheel him out every now and then), but as long as the Donald's self-worship, throwback sexism, and queasy pandering to higher-grade celebs continue unchecked, this will always be worth a watch. A bulky, gaudy, gold watch with zirconia studs.

Joe's TV List Completely Freaks Out

#46: Jon & Kate Plus 8
(TLC, 2007-present)

Let’s get one thing out of the way: I might wash my kitchen floor once a week, and I only have one child, who takes normal naps. Kate Gosselin washes hers three times a day. On her hands and knees. So what is wrong with me as a parent? That, in a nutshell, is the core message of J&K+8: if a high-strung woman with OCD, germophobia, a chronically half-asleep husband, and a crippling fear of magic markers can raise eight well-adjusted children (well, seven, plus Mady), then why should I complain about my daily stresses? I’ll tell you why: because we have to pay to go to Disney World. So stick that in your massive, blinding ceiling lights, Kate. On a positive note, thanks for not killing Collin's teddy bear right in front of him. Um, lighten up. It’s gum, not anthrax powder. Even Aunt Jodi doesn’t have access to that.

Joe's TV List Is Called for Illegal Use of Paws

#47: Puppy Bowl
(Animal Planet, 2005-present)

Puppy Bowl is the single greatest counterprogramming idea in the history of television. Why? Because if you don't dig a bunch of puppies rolling around for three hours on a faux football field, you are ... well, you're just a bad person. So celebrate with me the bowl cam, the random penalty flags, and the year (2006) when springer spaniels dominated the field like no one since the '85 Bears. If actually watching the Super Bowl is your thing, don't worry; Animal Planet usually runs its pooch party over the pregame, too. And if you'd pass on the puppies in favor of listening to the likes of Deion Sanders or Steve Young yapping their muzzles all afternoon, you're possibly beyond help. As are the halftime kittens, after enduring a full 30 minutes of streamers, strobes, and confetti. I think my parents are caring for one of those cats in their backyard these days. If you listen carefully through the open window at night, you can hear his gutteral, feral moans: "So bright. The flashes. No place to hide. So, so, so bright..." Suddenly, he gasps, twitches, and squeezes his eyes shut. But it doesn't stop. It never stops.

Joe's TV List Gets the Hook

#48: Boston Public
(FOX, 2000-2004)

During its too-brief run, this show espoused plenty of liberal causes, but to conservative fans, every week was a brilliantly articulated advertisement for school vouchers. You want guns? Racism? Gay-bashing? Underage sex? Drugs sold out of lockers? You got ’em! Actual Boston accents? Not so much. Despite its wild mood swings and occasional outright nuttiness, it made for great TV — until FOX banished the show to the Friday night death pool and then pulled the plug altogether. Chi McBride eventually resurfaced on The Nine, playing a bank manager taken hostage by armed robbers, probably thinking throughout the entire three or four episodes, “Hey! This is just like my last job!” That’s Winslow High, all right — a place where every child gets left behind.

Joe's TV List Doesn't Suck

#49: Beavis and Butt-head
(MTV, 1993-1997)

Mock if you will, but if you never actually watched Mike Judge’s first major gift to pop culture and only heard about the damage it supposedly inflicted on our nation’s youth, then you don’t realize that Judge wrote (or, in the case of the video interludes, improvised) some caustically intelligent, incisive commentary on the middle-American MTV crowd — right to their faces — but did so with a gentle fondness for his characters, a quality that he would later bring to the more mainstream but also-excellent King of the Hill. But mostly, Beavis and Butt-head was funny as heck, and surreally wise to boot. When the pair sell each other a bunch of candy-drive chocolate bars for the same $2, well, it makes no less economic sense than Hillary’s whole platform, right? Heh-heh-heh. I said ‘hole.’

By Special Request of My Sisters

Here you go. Now back to the TV list. :-)

The Revolution Will Be Blogged

No More Confusion and Delay: The April Insurrection of Sodor
Photograph, 2008

Joe's TV List Tries This at Home

#50: That's Incredible!
(ABC, 1980-1984)

"Hey, Fran Tarkenton! You've just lost your third non-competitive Super Bowl in four years! What are you going to do now?"
"Go to Disneyland?"
"Um, nope. We're sending Biletnikoff."
"Well, then, I guess I'm gonna retire and then resurface in a couple of years alongside a couple 0f B-list celebs, and we're gonna watch a guy eat a bike on TV!"
"A whole bike? That's incredible!"
"Hey, that has a nice ring to it."
"But not a Super Bowl ring, eh, Fran?"
"Go to hell."

Kill the Wabbits

I was talking to Jenn today about how many of our Christmas and Easter traditions are pagan in origin, but have become cheerful holiday customs that coexist with the Christian meaning of the holidays. Sort of.

I mean, culturally, the Santa side of Christmas meshes fairly seamlessly with the birth of Christ for no reason that I can explain. It just feels right. Generations of kids have learned about Jesus' birth while waiting anxiously for Santa, and, in most cases, the dichotomy didn't permanently screw up their heads. Easter is trickier. For one thing, most really young kids don't have the experiential maturity to deal with death as a concept (unless they've seen it close-up, which is tragic), and the core Easter message of sacrifice, death, and atonement isn't an easy one to condense into a kid-friendly package. But hopefully not too many parents are plopping their kids in front of The Passion of the Christ, so we let 'em celebrate Easter by watching fare about the staggeringly incongruous Easter bunny. I'm fine with that. Really, it's no more harmful than watching Linny squat into a bush.

Just -- and here is today's message at Pioneer Valley Days -- try to pick something a little higher-grade than Easter in Bunnyland. (What, you thought this was a religious posting?)

I really didn't mind watching this movie, the current Kidtoon Films offering at the local showcase cinema. We go to these 10 a.m. weekend shows because they give preschoolers a real moviegoing experience, complete with the big screen, popcorn, and fruit punch. We've endured two different Care Bears flicks, a Tonka truck movie with more product placement than The Apprentice and Jon & Kate combined, and a My Little Pony Christmas story that buried the holiday under an avalanche of candy and mixed messages. Jenn says the Strawberry Shortcake movie was her favorite so far, which should tell you something about how low we're setting the bar here. Most of these movies are already available on DVD, but when Nate sits there for an hour feeling like a big, important kid, well, I'd pay $3.50 a ticket for that any day.

But, Santa help us, Nate has created sculptures in his Pull-Ups that were more appealing loads of crap than Easter in Bunnyland. This movie centers around three rabbits with extremely annoying voices wandering through a plot that was probably assembled using whatever refrigerator poetry magnets were available. The pinnacle of humor is one of the cringeworthy rat villians calling the Easter bunny "Easter dummy." And can we say low-budget? I noticed footage recycled and reused, and in many scenes with multiple characters, only the character talking moved; others just stood stock-still and unblinking. Yes, Hanna-Barbera used to cut similar corners, but they made up for it with extremely sharp writing. Trust me ... I'm no great scribe, but you had more fun reading this paragraph than you could possibly have at this movie. Once I put Nate on my lap, Jenn tried to get some shuteye.

Roger Ebert and others have rightfully complained about some of the garbage studios put out for kids, knowing they'll make a quick buck off an undiscerning audience. That's true, but they're talking about feature films for bigger kids. As Nate grows up, we'll certainly take him to good family flicks; we already own a library of Disney, Pixar, and other classics on DVD. But right now, it's about the experience, and an hour is about right for any 2-year-old to sit still without getting bored. The truth is, Pixar, Dreamworks, and others have pushed the length of animated films ever-higher; Toy Story runs 1:20, but Cars reaches two hours, which is why Nate's never made it past the halfway point of the DVD. We'd love to check out Horton Hears a Who, but that runs 1:50. Soon, probably sometime this year, we'll take him to a real movie; he is really well-behaved in the theater. But we're not going to tax him with a two-hour running time and ruin what's supposed to be a good time until we think he's ready.

Until then, it's 10 a.m. Kidtoons for Nate, and solo forays to the movies -- and occasional dates -- for Jenn and I when we want to see something else. That's what you do when you're a parent. You do not ruin Jenn's (and everyone else's) viewing of Casino Royale by having a two-hour conversation with your gaggle of toddlers, and you certainly do not (contrary to what I experienced one night) bring your 4-year-old daughter to Apocalypto. Prick.

No, you understand that parenthood means renting movies, accepting the fact that you can't always go everywhere you want to go, and, once in a while, enduring Easter in Bunnyland. Which I hope is running on an endless loop when Apocalypto Dad gets strapped to his Lazy Boy in hell.

This Calls for Some Celery

Did you know I dig Wonder Pets? Maybe it's post-writer's-strike desperation talking (“What's on the DVR tonight, honey?” “Um, looks like Wonder Pets, Blue's Clues, Backyardigans, Thomas, and House Hunters.” “OK, whattaya got for us tonight, Suzanne?”), but I might like it even more than Nate. Heck, I'm not even sure its creator, Josh Selig, likes Wonder Pets as much as I do. So when writing a story for my magazine about a recruiting partnership between two local hospitals, I'm not going to pass up this easy opportunity:

I'm also not going to pass up a chance at a top-10 list. I've seen 49 of the 52 segments that have aired to date, but Little Airplane shows no sign of slowing down production, so I might have to revisit this someday. Until then, here are my favorites:

10. Save the Three Little Pigs
WOLF: “Little pig, little pig, let me in!”
PIG: “Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!”
TUCK: “His chin isn’t so hairy.”
LINNY: “I think it’s just an expression, Tuck.”
Yeah, they bring the snark in this episode, one of the more wink-wink adventures in the gang’s career (More Tuck: “OK, Little Pig #3, flowers are not gonna work”). But an irritable, fairly edgy wolf with a taste for guinea pig, turtle, and duckling (is that the voice of Ollie the bunny, by the way?) keeps it ever-so-slightly-threatening for the wee ones.

9. Save the Tree
Wonder Pets meets Holmes on Homes. Featuring the most distinctive music in the WP canon — a breezy, jazzy theme that would not be out of place on a ’70s urban drama, minus the singing animals — this redecoration of an abandoned big-city garden attracts a bevy of helpful critters, including two dogs, who clearly took care of their business before the opening credits (see #6). Watch for a priceless, split-second double take from Ming-Ming and Tuck when Linny initially admits she doesn’t know how to save a tree; it’s one of the series’ most subtle moments. I swear, if Linny ever kicks it, the other two will have to find new careers, because they are lost without her.

8. Save the Hermit Crab
Wonder Pets meets Design on a Dime. Sporting a less offensive Mexican accent than Bounce from Miss Spider, this cute little baby crab, suddenly shell-less, is threatening to wither and die from direct sun exposure … and Ming-Ming couldn’t give a baby rat’s ass. Because she’s on vacation. That Linny apparently paid for. The crab eventually gets a makeshift, kitschily decorated shell, and there are touching moments of gratitude and tenderness throughout … but exactly none of them from the duck.

7. Save the Sheep
Normally, I don’t mind the toybox dress-up moments on the way to the flyboat, because the animals-in-trouble-somewhere typically aren’t in seconds-to-live danger. Except these sheep, who are probably less than 50 yards from the edge of a Swiss cliff when the gang dresses up like a clock, cheese, and chocolate … and, later, about a first down away from a horrible, graphic death when Linny has everyone try on, and sing about, lederhosen. If this episode had realistic time progression, that song would have gone:
LINNY: “Let’s put on our led-er-hosen!”
TUCK AND MING-MING: “Led-er-who-sen?”
LINNY: “Led-er-ho—”
SHEEP: “BAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…” *crash*
LINNY: *vomits*
TUCK: "Um ... I need a hug."
If it were the Von Trapp family heading for the edge, I’d say, hey, by all means, keep singing and trying on clothes. But those are some pretty cute sheep, so let's step it up a bit.

6. Save the Puppy
Wonder Pets meets A Bunch of Uptight Parents on the Nick Jr. Internet Forum. So it turned out, anyway. I am not an uptight parent, however, so I totally dig watching a bunch of cartoon animals squat and pee — twice. And as for the “pee-pee, wee-wee, tinkle” line, it’s not gratuitious; it’s just including most of the terms that parents might use when potty-training their own kids. It’s not like they’re telling the Long Island puppy to “drain it, take a whiz, urinaaaaate.” Listen, if you're having too much trouble removing that stick, feel free to switch over to Dora. But even then, I make no promises. (“I HAVE TO PEE! WHERE IS MY TOILET? CAN YOU HELP ME FIND MY TOILET? GRACIAS!”)

5. Save the Mouse
Nate walked around for weeks imitating the mouse’s “squeeeeak, squeeeeak” when we first had this saved to the DVR. I didn’t mind watching it a lot, ’cause it’s funny. Linny’s too sick to work, but he has to provide tech support the entire time while a hilariously helpless (and bickering ... what else is new) Tuck and Ming-Ming blow mouse out of a saxophone in the schoolhouse attic. There’s a lovely meta moment for all of us Noggin parents when Ming-Ming encounters a blue cuckoo in a clock and asks, “Excuse me, is your name Pablo?”

4. Ollie to the Rescue
For my money, Ollie the bunny can make guest appearances as many times as he wants to, as long as he’s a little more brain-damaged with each visit. Not content to get sprayed by a skunk in season 1, this time he dons a cape, launches his own rescue squad, and promptly gets lodged along with a squirrel inside a bird feeder, leading to Ming-Ming’s best-ever line, “This … is … hilarious.” But what puts the episode over the top are Ollie’s inanimate rescue partners, and their own little theme song, which begins, “Ollie, Rock, and Mr. Frog too.” Of course, even that isn't enough to spoil Tuck’s non-judgmental streak (“I think Rock is cute”), which, as we know, he abandons only when Ming-Ming is cheerfully breaking his stuff.

3.  Save the Caterpillar
Kind of an odd choice, since not much happens during this trip to Greece. But this one’s a keeper for one reason, and that’s the lovely, simple song the inchworm and butterfly sing to each other when the latter emerges from her chrysalis. It goes from heartbreaking (“Want to crawl through some mud?” “Can’t crawl … sorry”) to heart-lifting (“I can’t crawl, but I can fly. Wanna go for a ride?”) in a gut-twisting flash. I have to credit whatever child actors are voicing this pair, because they turn this tentative dance of two delicate psyches into something that shimmers. Oh, shut up. I'm not made of stone.

2. Save the Chimp
This is the single funniest episode in the whole series, thanks to the sheer heights of nuttiness scaled by Ming-Ming (“It’s my spacesuit!”), in what I consider Danica Lee’s best voice performance outside of her showcase episode, “Save the Duckling.” Give yourself over to an insane world where launching chimps into space — and losing them there — is apparently a commonplace pastime for NASA, and where bananas stay edible indefinitely. And if you’re not a fan of the overconfident duck, hear your chest thump as she comes within inches of being blown to fuzzy yellow bits by a relentless asteroid. Houston, we have a very special episode. Almost.

1. Save the Pangaroo
I knew this would be high on the list after first catching it a week or two ago, but it hasn’t left our DVR since, and I can’t think of an episode I like more. In this tale of a two-dimensional children’s drawing (part parrot, part kangaroo) who gets stuck in the trashcan, the rescue happens early on, but the gang’s main task is to find the ever-so-pretentious Pangaroo a home in one of the pieces of art on the classroom walls. They eventually paint him a home and, when he’s lonely, a companion: a butterdeer (whose wings are also very delicate). The meeting of the two friends in their new home is very touching, and the music throughout, bouyant and more contemporary than usual, ranks with the most listenable scores in the Wonder Pets canon. But the episode saves the best for last: in a striking bit of animation, all the classroom artwork comes alive to serenade the squad with a lovely, mellow take on the show’s theme song. If it’s meant to evoke childlike wonder, I can vouch that it works, because Nate always stops what he’s doing to gaze softly at the screen and sing along. As for me? I like it. This will certainly do.