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Death and Teletubbies

Nothing strikes fear into the Homedaddy's heart as much as the phrase "It's time for Teletubbies," which in case you didn't know, is the slogan and opening line of a children's program on public television featuring a quartet of roly-poly terrycloth androids with antennae on their heads and video screens set into their stomachs. And these are their more endearing qualities.

Besides being the darlings of the Under-Two Set, the Teletubbies enjoyed instant notoriety when they drew the attention of that fine arbiter of public taste, the Rev. Jerry Falwell. It seems that the largest Teletubby, who performs under the name of Tinky-Winky, was (according to Falwell) actually a homosexual role model. This attempted character assassination on a puppet made out of a purple dishrag immediately caught the attention of the American public, which correctly identified this behavior as absurd, even for Falwell.

So, naturally, he did the honorable thing and claimed he'd been misunderstood, and proved it by hooking up with Tinky-Winky himself for a publicity photo of the two of them sharing a nice cold beer at a Hooters Restaurant. It was a close call for Falwell, but as they say in the Public Relations business, it was nothing that wouldn't hose off.

When Emma was born I swore I'd never allow the Teletubbies into my house, but of course that was before she was able to express herself. She truly enjoys them, and that is enought to make me turn the other cheek even though I can feel myself dropping an IQ point for every minute that they are on my television set.

Recently, as Julia and I faced domestic pressures of various kinds, the Teletubbies became my personal scapegoats. I cursed them for invading my dreams, mocking my goals, and altering global weather patterns. I entertained private fantasies of burning them in effigy and sticking pins into them like voodoo dolls.

In the middle of my self-centered blame-fest, we received the news on Thanksgiving Day that my sister had died. She lived in Paris, France with her husband and two young children, and had been fighting cancer for about two years.

It wasn't practical for all of us to go, and I traveled to Paris alone in a state of shock, grief, and confusion. My mind swirled with thoughts and feelings both sane and otherwise, and at one point I remember thinking, at least I'll have a few days rest from those blasted Teletubbies. The ensuing realization that I was thinking of my own petty comforts at such a time only made me feel like a selfish pig.

By the time I landed I was silently screaming at myself to stop thinking about the Teletubbies and face the music, but once I left the airport, my grip on reality evaporated as I beheld giant billboards everywhere in Paris pitching the Teletubbies, complete with translated slogan: "C'est l'heur de Teletubbies!" I didn't know what to think. I still don't. I probably never will.

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© Todd Pinsky 1998-2002. All rights reserved.