January 28, 2004

Endless Elmo one scary thought

By
Herald Editor

      At this very moment, there is a monster lurking in our basement. A vexatious creature that has mesmerized our toddler.
      While he appears to be a cute, cuddly three-year-old, I know the heart of darkness beating beneath his red fur. His shrill sing-a-longs beckon like a siren from a rocky coastline. And those ping-pong ball eyes, they never blink.
      Evil - thy name is Elmo.
      They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions and bad Christmas gifts. "The Best of Elmo" DVD ranks right up there with Chia Pets and The Clapper. The worst part is that we brought this pestilent puppet upon ourselves. Elmo giggles in devilish delight as a daily (and twice a night) reminder of our parental blunder.
      We've tried to pull the plug, but Ella has Elmo on the brain. He has captured our child's heart and a sizable portion of cerebral cortex.
      In an unthinkable overthrow, Elmo has dethroned Elvis; the former undisputed king of entertainment at our house. "Jailhouse Rock" no longer reverberates from the living room, instead we're all shook up about M.C. Elmo rappin' about the number five for the fiftieth time today. Evidently there is no Graceland address on Sesame Street.
      Our child is certainly not the first to fall under the spell of this pint-size Svengali. Elmo has been pulling strings since the Christmas of 1996. Kids have thrown tantrums and parents pummeled each for a Sell-Mo doll. There is nothing this guy won't do for a buck or $24.95 plus tax. How low will he go? Try Limbo Elmo or Chicken Dance Elmo.
      Unfortunately, this 30-something father can be counted among the Elmo minion.
      Perhaps I fell prey to those furry paws because I grew up on Sesame Street. Back in the 1970s, however, the neighborhood didn't have Sell-Mo strip malls. Instead, it was the mom-and-pop store front days of Big Bird and Mr. Snuffleupagus. I tell you I was down with Bert and Ernie doing the pigeon.
      Call me crass, but I picture Elmo as a prima donna puppet. I bet when some old-school Sesame character like Cookie Monster flubs his lines, little Elmo storms off the set and smokes Virginia Slims in his dressing room. I think it's his lack of a uvula that I find so annoying.
      Despite many misgivings, the little red-headed monster has weaseled his way into our life - or at least the basement entertainment center. Truth be told, I'm afraid to go downstairs without Ella. While watching the weather report last night, I swear the lake effect snow was little laughing Elmo heads. I think he is trying to suck me into the TV set Poltergeist style.
      However, much like sweet potatoes and Elvis, this Elmo phase shall pass. Before long, Ella will be trying to invite her boyfriend over to watch television - in the basement. The proposition of a slack-jaw vexatious creature dating our mesmerized teen makes evil Elmo downright cuddly.
      Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva can be reached at 933-1416 or e-mail gleiva@gtherald.com