After years of straining my brain, I have had an epiphany: eating glitter make your poop magical. Try it, send me the pictures… but that was not the epiphany.
At the age of 16ish months, my daughter could blumble anywhere and get into anything. I say “blumble” because it looked like a continuous stumble, but she never fell. I thought at any moment she would crash into the ground, yet, like some sort of magically enchanted drunk dwarf, she always managed to stay upright.
Now, at this age she did not watch much TV. I tell you this so that you feel like you are a terrible parent. Just kidding. But the truth of the matter was that at that time she had very little exposure to the regular demons that assault all children before the age of 6. Or so I thought.
She staggered into our bathroom cabinet, and, after consuming two boxes of rat poison, she started pulling every container out of the drawers. She then pulled out some kid band-aids my wife had purchased. This box had a red fuzzy monster on it. “ELMO!” she said triumphantly. I would have bet anything she did not know that fuzzy red bastard. Oh no, she not only knew him, she loved him! She wanted anything and everything with him on it. “Please daddy, buy me any cheap plastic piece of crap with this on it, ’cause if you don’t, I’m going to wail in the aisle and make everyone else in the supermarket think you are some sort of horrible parent,” she said with big pleading eyes.
How? How did she learn of this without being exposed?
Time for my theory.
All of us have seen the minions of children’s TV.
I have an acronym for them. They are the BEPCY. Fear the BEPCY. You know the BEPCY. They stand for Barbie, Elmo, Princesses, Caillou, and Yo Gabba Gabba.
They are the pentaverate of evil children’s shows.
You don’t know about the original pentaverate? Watch.
This group is similar, but more sinister. The colonel might have a secret ingredient that makes you crave his chicken fortnightly, but the children’s pentaverate claims your child’s mind before you even have a chance.
They pooled their mighty collective forces and bribed every ultrasound manufacturer in the world. Thus, whenever you received an ultrasound, the sound waves that bombarded your still developing fetus was not a simple harmless tone. Oh no sir! You see, what the ultrasounds do is channel ultrasonic Disney, Elmo, and other annoying songs directly into the developing brain of your child.
Ever wonder how your child who can hardly eep out a pseudo “mama” can recite “Elmo’s song” verbatim?
Ultrasound waves cemented these songs in his/her brain long before you even saw a baby’s face. Before you saw 10 fingers and 10 toes your child’s brain got washed with 10 Yo Gabba Gabba songs followed by 10 episodes of mermaid Barbie. These ingrained feelings surge in every child’s core by the mind altering ultrasound waves.
You know my feeling on Caillou. That bald scumbag’s whining makes me want cut off my ears with safety scissors. But they all love him. You might say “we don’t watch that at our house.” Well, maybe not, but if it was up to them, you know you would.
Stay strong, their brainwashing only lasts till they are four.
Now, if you’ll give me some time, I’m going to go listen to “Let it Go” for the 43,000th time. Oh crap.
If you are not brainwashed, please click like and also scroll up on the right and follow on Facebook, it is the only way to prove you have not become one of them.