O MOE, WHERE ART THOU?

If you are anything like me –- approaching middle age faster than the Japanese bullet train –- then you probably grew up watching the classics on television.

Of course, by “classics” I’m referring to “The Little Rascals”, “Three Stooges” and “Abbott and Costello”.

These shows were an after-school staple in my neighborhood. If it was cold or rainy out, we would park it in front of the nineteen-inch and check out the antics of Moe, Larry and Curly, or Spanky, Alfalfa and the beautiful Darla (Britney Spears, eat your heart out).

Now you have to remember, this was in the time before cable (the “Dark Ages”, according to my kids). In fact, there was only one channel broadcasting children’s programming during weekday afternoons (two if Venus was aligned with Mars).

Still, it didn’t matter one poke-in-the-eye that we’d seen each episode ten times before. These shows involved real people doing real things and making us really laugh.

Just thinking about Moe using the width of his hand to block Larry’s two-fingered eye poke makes me chuckle. Or, Curly slapping himself repeatedly across the face before knocking down a group of bad guys like they were bowling pins.

Things are different today. Everything is animated, and most of it is fantasy. You’ve got a group of talking babies (“Rugrats”), a boy with a football-shaped head (“Hey Arnold”) and a comic sea sponge (“SpongeBob”).

Speaking of the latter, someone please explain to me how the sea creatures populating this underwater world can visit a beach on the ocean bottom where waves lap against the shore? I’m sure I could solve such riddles if I’d only spent as much time with my physics book as I did with the Stooges.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not completely opposed to today’s children’s programming. I’ve actually found myself laughing at the Sponge. And many “Rugrat” episodes seem to contain a positive message (though calling one another “dumb babies” would not be high on my list). But I also lament the fact that my kids are not exposed to some of the classic shows of my youth.

So this summer I rented a few videos containing episodes of “The Little Rascals” and “Three Stooges” prior to taking the family on a driving vacation. Thanks to our portable tv-vcr, my children were going to enjoy some good, old-fashioned entertainment during the trip.

"You're gonna love this stuff," I promised them as they examined the videos.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"What's a stooge?"

The answer to that age-old question would arrive shortly after we hit the road.

With my wife behind the wheel, I climbed in the back to watch one of the videos with the kids. Now they’d witness some real comedy.

I probably don’t have to tell you how this ended.

My kids sat stone-faced for the better part of an hour. Not one “nyuk, nyuk” escaped from their lips (or even a slight smile, for that matter). In fact, they actually felt sorry for poor Larry when Moe abused him.

They also failed to relate in any meaningful way with the Rascals. This became quite apparent when one of them asked me why Buckwheat doesn’t comb his hair.

When I suggested that Darla was sort of “cute”, my youngest son asked me whether she had any music videos playing on MTV.

Ultimately, my experiment proved a complete dud. Maybe the lack of color or naked realism put my kids off –- I don’t really know. What I can tell you is, less than an hour after starting up the vcr, my children asked me to turn it off so they could stare out the window in peace.

I guess I should chalk it up to the fact that my kids and I are products of significantly different eras. What is funny in one era may not translate well in another. Then again, I might be missing the boat altogether.

The one thing I’m sure of? From now on I’ll be keeping my “nyuks” to myself.

(c) Marc L. Prey 2002