TV is getting fruity

Recently, I’ve noticed that children’s television is… evolving. I don’t know exactly what the impetus behind the change might be – I suspect that it might have something to do with making kid-related programming as non-threatening and nightmare-free as possible – but it is definitely there. For while I grew up on a steady diet of She-Ra, the Fraggles, the Smurfs, and so on, today’s children have something quite different.

They have anthropomorphized fruit.

First came the Bananas in Pajamas – remember them? Honestly, I don’t know if these guys even fit the “non-threatening, kid-friendly” model. Look at them; they’re terrifying.

Also, there’s always been something deeply disturbing to me about the beginning of the show, in which the Bananas emerge from a dark room and flail their way down the stairs like a pair of surprised home invaders. You know that classic urban legend, where the babysitter keeps getting a series of creepy phone calls and finally discovers that they’re coming from inside the house? How much do you want to bet that somewhere off-camera, a phone is dangling off the hook and a terrified teenager is screaming from a basement window?

And then – not as sinister, but no less disturbing – we have the Veggie Tales.

This is where I confess that I have been moderately curious about these talking vegetables ever since they released a movie last year called “The Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything”. I mean, loquacious pickle (or is he a cucumber?) aside, that is one intriguing title. And the vegetables don’t look like serial killers.

However, being as I was not about to go see the do-nothing pirate movie in theaters, I had to just remain curious… until the other night, when the movie suddenly showed up on HBO Family.

I watched it for fifteen minutes, and I can now say without hesitation that the entire franchise is MADNESS. By way of proof, I offer the following: The movie contains a scene in which a cucumber, a gourd, and a grape are all aboard a pirate ship, a reggae song is playing, and they are hoisting the sails and waving swords around despite the fact that none of them have hands. Eyes, noses, mouths, and facial hair, yes – but no hands. Which means that the ropes and swords and such simply float alongside their bodies as though by magic.

What the hell, animators? What, were hands just too weird? Was there a point at which one of you stood up and said, “Look, I was fine with giving the cucumber buck-teeth and putting a beard on that grape, but hands? Come on, you guys! That’s just CRAZY!”

After a lot of hysterical screeching in the direction of the television, I went on Wikipedia to get some answers – at the very least, I thought, there would be some explanation as to why this motley crew of foodstuffs was spending so much time together and why none of them ever get overripe, even in the sun. But instead, what I found there nearly made my head explode.

Rationally, I can surmise that this show’s concept stemmed from the desire to make children more… I don’t know, amenable to vegetables? Because watching an animated tomato singing reggaeton in a pirate outfit is an essential cornerstone of proper nutrition! But despite this, it has to be said: the entire thing reeks of somebody’s acid flashback fantasy. The vegetables have backstories. Let me say that again: The VEGETABLES. Have BACKSTORIES.

The following gems are but a taste of the rich mythology which apparently surrounds the Veggie Tales:

• Mr. Lunt is a decorative Spanish Gourd who grew up in New Jersey and speaks with a Mexican-Spanish accent. A notable feature is his lack of eyes.
  
• Frankencelery (as he is generally referred to) is a mild-mannered, high-voiced celery stalk (although in The Yodeling Veterinarian of the Alps Frankencelery sings the low bass part in a quartet with the rapscallions).
• Art Bigotti is an African-American broccoli bowling champion.

An African-American broccoli, you guys. Who bowls. Who bowls really well, in fact, which is quite an accomplishment considering that he does not have any hands.

I’ll just leave it at that, okay? I am off to watch my tired VHS of "The Last Unicorn" and pray that television’s anthropomorphic fruit trend dies out before I have children, because I do not relish the idea of explaining the dangers of psychotropic drugs to a three year-old.