Creepy Children’s Programming Reviews: DINO SQUAD

vlcsnap-2011-08-29-23h37m58s59Oh, Dino Squad.  How much do I hate thee?   I hate thee a whole damn lot.  In general, I am very much pro-dinosaur and pro-dinosaur programming, but this show is edging closer and closer to the “Oh, sorry, Netflix is broken” level of I can’t watch this shit anymore right now.  It’s getting the kid interested in dinosaurs, and he’s learning a few things, but it’s making me insane, and it’s all about me and we can’t have that.

We will start with the theme song:

You didn’t click that, so here are the lyrics:

I’m in
I’m in
I’m in
in the dino squad
on a beautiful beach not far away
I went to visit for a day
got covered with some gooey ooze
that changed my DNA
Now I’m trying to act normal
Keep my cool
While other kids play after school
I turn into a prehistoric hero
I’m in
I’m in
I’m in
in the Dino Squad!

Okay.

I understand that complaining about suspension of disbelief and scientific inaccuracy in a kids’ show is a mug’s game.  I’m a superhero guy.  There are expensive superhero statues in the room with me and action figures on my desk.  My disbelief is suspended from the firmament itself most of the time, but this show still breaks the hell out of it.  So let me just lay this show out for you, and you tell me exactly when it gets to be too much.  Here is what Dino Squad is about:

  • A bunch of kids (high school students, old enough to drive motorcycles) go to the beach and get covered in ooze.  They discover it has given them the ability to turn into dinosaurs.  So far, I’m OK!  This is basically Daredevil’s origin, right?  Spider-Man got bitten by a radioactive spider.  Gooey ooze.  I’m good.
  • They meet this old lady, whose name I can never remember, and she tells them they can turn into dinosaurs.  She’s in this picture:

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So, all right, still okay.

  • The lady tells them that she is, herself, a dinosaur.  She is, in fact, a velociraptor!  A velociraptor who somehow avoided dying in the Chicxulub impact and “evolved” to be able to turn into a human being.  You literally see the two velociraptors diving into a cave during the meteor strike.
  • This is not how evolution works.
  • Velociraptors were the size of turkeys and had feathers.  If you saw one today, you’d think “Ooh, what a weird-looking bird!”.  Cassowaries are considerably scarier-looking.
  • Velociraptors died out ten million years before the Chicxulub impact.
  • This means that she was already somehow ten million years old before that explosion, and therefore the oldest living thing on Earth, exceeded possibly only by the other immortal velociraptor, and is therefore…
  • …currently 75 million years old.

But that’s Science Luther talking.  Shut up, Science Luther!  It’s a kid’s show!  Okay. Like I said, eventually that line gets crossed.  Maybe this is what does it:

  • The other velociraptor is also still around, and is therefore also 75 million years old.  He calls himself… wait for it… Victor Veloci.
  • Victor Veloci’s evil plan is to occasionally turn rodents and fish into dinosaurs, but only a couple at a time.  He’s insanely incompetent for a 75 million year old immortal dino-person.  The two of them should literally rule the planet by now.
  • You turn Victor Veloci’s dino-rodents or whatever back into regular rodents via a two-step process:  1) shooting them with a sprayer that causes the “dino DNA” to be sweated out of their skin, and 2) then– I am not joking– sucking the dino DNA up with a vacuum cleaner.  This makes them better.

Has the suspension of disbelief gotten harder yet?  Still need more?  Okay.  Here’s the kicker, then.  This is Victor Veloci’s hair:

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And, lest you think “Oh, he’s just long-haired, what’s the big deal?” let me show you another picture of Victor Veloci:

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No, he only has long hair on one side.  And that is an honest-to-God red streak dyed into his hair.  His haircut, somehow, is the most ridiculous thing about the show.

Note also his minions, who are dressed like COBRA applicants who got rejected for dressing too ridiculously.

So, yeah.  The show is about how this 75-million year old supervillain is routinely outwitted by a bunch of teenagers who can turn into dinosaurs.  Note that Veloci himself can regain his velociraptor form at any time.  (So can the old lady, presumably, although I don’t know if I’ve seen an episode where she does.)  

And those teenagers?  They’re… weird.  Especially this one:

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Now, again, these kids are in late high school, because they’re driving, but this one particularly– he turns into a pteranodon– keeps getting storylines that imply he is nine.  This particular image is from an episode where he’s having problems with bullies.  The bully’s name is McFinn, which is somehow much more ridiculous than it should be; it sounds really dumb anytime anyone says “McFinn” on the show, especially when they imply that this “McFinn” person is scary or tough.  He’s just not.  Plus, dude, you’re a dinosaur.  Drop him off a cliff.  There’s one right there by that lighthouse y’all are based in for some reason.

Now, I know, high school kids do have problems with bullies, and I’m not trying to minimize that.  But the way they handle it is weirdly infantilizing, especially since they really do try to treat pteranodude like he’s a lot younger than the rest of them.  He also gets an episode where Victor Veloci pretends to be a pretty girl in an MMORPG (75 million years old, people) and tries to get him to “break Internet safety rules” and tell her where he is so that Veloci can… do… something.  I dunno.  Underpants gnomes, profit.  The high school students have technology sophisticated enough to detect two mutated dinosaurs three states over and this dude is trynna catfish over Xbox Live.  I don’t get it.  And mohawk dude is the only one who gets these storylines.

(Oh, and remember that “play after school” line from the theme song?  Is that what high school kids do after school?  They play?)

Here’s the transformation video.  It plays six times an episode.  If your kid watches this show, expect him to spend a lot of time yelling “65 million years back!” and “going into dino mode” when you need him to put on his shoes:

One (1) point is awarded to the show because the big black kid, who would be a football player on any other program, is actually the computer nerd.  Other than that, I hate this show.

#WeekendCoffeeShare: Spring Break Edition

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If– if— we were having coffee, I would be ever so glad to be having coffee with you.  So.  Very.  Glad.  Because, presumably, having a weekend cup of coffee would mean that I was out in public and having a Conversation with an Adult, which is a thing that has been incredibly rare lately.  Don’t get me wrong– I love my wife and my parents, but other than the three of them I think the last time I had a conversation with another grown-up who wasn’t some sort of employee at a place where I was buying something was last Saturday.  If I restrict it to specifically social settings, I might have to go back to C2E2, which was, what, two weeks ago?

In other news, I’ve survived the first week of my son’s Spring Break, and there’s another week to go, and then a four-day period where my wife is in Boston for work stuff and I don’t even have her around.  I’ve never been to Boston, and I’m insanely jealous.  If I’m still remotely human come April 13, I want some sort of award.  Also, I have jury duty on the 12th.  So … yeah.

Anyway.  Have you been watching Daredevil?  I’ve liked the second season a hell of a lot more than the first, mostly because replacing the show’s terrible rendition of the Kingpin with Elektra and the Punisher has been an impressive upgrade.  I won’t spoil anything just yet, but I am very much in the minority in that I think D’Onofrio’s portrayal of the Kingpin was/is awful, and the less of him around the better.  We’ve watched through to the final episode, which we’ll watch tonight, and then I somehow have to spend the next 24 hours avoiding Walking Dead spoilers until we can watch the finale of that Monday night.

I’m showing signs of finally moving out of the Lexapro haze, too, which is good; I’m currently about six days ahead on the A to Z Challenge, and I hope to get much farther ahead today.  It’s been about a month since I started taking it, which is supposedly about as long as you need to get used to the side effects.  I’m very ready to be done with being unmotivated and exhausted all the time, so that’s all sorts of good news.

So, yeah.  That’s me.  How’re you?

Oh right this needs a title

bored-kitty.jpgSo far, Spring Break has consisted of a lot of Transformers cartoons interspersed with occasional attempts to teach the boy to read and preparing a neverending succession of grilled cheese sandwiches.  He’s actually getting pretty decent with a list of basic sight words; we’ll see if I can get him up to Dostoyevsky in the week and a half remaining before school starts again.  Probably not, but goals are a good thing.

Outside of that and stressing the fuck out about the job market, though, there’s not been much else.  I’m growing rather unpleasantly tired of my own bullshit, and am in that stage of bored where I can think of a dozen things I ought to be doing (not least among which would be getting something done on the A to Z challenge, which starts Friday) but being so unmotivated that I’m simply noting that they’re still out there and moving on with continuing to do not a whole lot.  Last year my A to Z posts were completely done by now.  I have them all scheduled but not a single one written yet.

I am sure that this is at least as exciting to read about as it is to live through.

I have just noticed that the keyboard in that picture is facing the wrong way, and it’s really getting on my nerves.

…yeah, that’s what I’ve got.  Gonna take the boy to the comic shop and maybe try to get a short story finished this afternoon.  We’ll see.

SPRRIIIING BREEEAAAAAAAAAAAK!!!!!

F3GtJe2eRHWG6YBNhefY_Brick THUMB.jpgIs it a sign of something wrong with me that I Google the words “spring break” to find an image for this post and the first thing to come to mind is Jesus Christ, am I glad I never had anything to do with that?  Because that’s totally what just happened.

Anyway: I’m unemployed, so depending on how you chose to look at it I either don’t get a Spring Break or every day in March and April is Spring Break.

The boy does, though.  In fact, he gets two weeks somehow, the longest Spring Break I’ve ever heard of.  So my current jobless status actually kinda works out for us, since the next two weeks can be Daddy Time and we don’t have to scramble to figure out what to do with him.

So far, after three hours of Spring Break, he has built a fort out of couch cushions and I have taken a shower.  So we’re living it up over here.

Anybody want to give any suggestions for what to do with a four-year-old for the next two weeks?  Other than mainline superhero cartoons, I mean.

In which my brain is uncooperative

I had a line– a single line– from a story hop into my head close to bedtime Friday night and spent all day yesterday trying to track down the rest of it, to no avail.  At least yet. It’s still in there, though, banging on the walls, trying to get out.  We’ll see if I figure out what else I can do with it at some point today.

The impending baby was successfully showered, and I got a tour of Michigan State’s campus, which was pretty cool as I’d never been there before.  Then my wife and I spent approximately seventeen hours attempting to convince the boy that yes, it is possible for a human to sleep on an air mattress.

I am sleepy, is what I’m saying.

In which this was a wonderful idea

The boy’s tiny little brain has thus far proven unable to cope with the concepts “hotel room,” “big boy bed,” and “sleeping in the same room as Mommy and Daddy,” and he was up until past 11:30 last night with constant questions and running commentary.  Plus it was way too goddamn hot in here all night and because of where they put his bed turning down the temperature seemed like a bad idea to everyone because it would have meant cold air basically blowing directly on him all night.

The three of us will be a cherished addition to the ceremonies later today.

Dragostea din tei

adebisi_hat-1_186241093Yeah, the numa numa song has been running through my head all day, and so what if I’m mentally stuck in 2004.  Pbbbbbt.  

I have not been having a stunning daddy week, as I’ve had to pick my son up from day care twice this week and both times have resulted in me hauling him out of the building, his coat only precariously on his body, bawling his damn fool little head off.

Well, okay, part of that’s not true; no reasonable human being would ever call my son’s head little.  He’s clearly inherited that part of his anatomy from me.

Anyway.  Point is, there’s been something every time, and I’m pretty sure that the next time I need to pick him up I’m going to have to find a way to kill an hour before I do it.   I get off work before my wife does, so when I pick him up he’s one of the first kids to leave, and everybody’s in full play mode.  When she picks him up, other kids have left first and things are calming down for the day and he’s a little more prepared to leave.  He’s also thrown fits about putting his coat on both days; he has this genuinely obnoxious tic about his sleeves where they have to not only be just the right length but the sleeves on his shirt must also be of the proper length and visible from his coat sleeves.  When he doesn’t want to put on the coat, the sleeve obsession makes the entire process roughly four dozen times as obnoxious as it needs to be.

Today, making things worse, once I got him out to the car in his coat, I realized that we really haven’t adjusted the straps on the car seat in my car to accommodate his winter coat, so the winter coat that caused all sorts of stress and nonsense to get him into then had to be taken off of him before I could actually get him strapped in properly and brought home.  Come to think of it, we’ll have to fix that tonight, because I think tomorrow I have to take him to day care, and I’ll be damned if I’m bringing my three-year-old into day care without his coat on in the weather we’re going to be having tomorrow morning.  So… yay.

(The first time we walked out, I walked past the reception desk and said “I swear he’s mine” to them as he struggled and tried to get out of my arms and screamed.  Today it was “He’s still mine, but if this happens again this week he can be yours if you want.”  Because I am a champion as a parent.)

He lives!

Thanks to my wife, not to me. I cannot sew.

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