Few kids' TV shows creep me out as much as Yo Gabba Gabba does. Give me the penile Boobahs or the Teletubbies' sun baby any day -- both are less disturbing than DJ Lance and his freaky little toys. Heck, I'd even spend 15 minutes alone with a clown before I'd subject myself to Yo Gabba Gabba.
Which seems to put me in the minority in Strollerderbyland. It also strips me of any shreds of hipster cred I might have had. I'm OK with this. Anything that puts me in the camp that Neal Pollack isn't in is a good thing.
The New York Times' Rob Walker took on the YGG phenomenon in his Consumed column in the Sunday magazine. Walker's piece is sharply written, as usual. I thought it might help me put my finger on exactly what it is about the show that trips my cognitive dissonance into puree mode. I know it has something to do with the idea of "cross-platform marketing," "high-end toys" and "equal parts Jimmie Walker and Bootsy Collins."
I can't seem to get the argument pinned down, however. When I start to come up with a thesis for why this show is just so flippin' wrong, the images of Elijah Wood doing the "Puppet Master" dance chase any coherent thoughts plumb out of my head.
Which it just did again. I need to go sit in the corner and shudder for the rest of the morning.
