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My Sponge Bob epiphany

Submitted by on Sunday, 1 June 2008 No Comment

Originally published Sept. 18, 1007, thehive.modbee.com

I’m a strange person with a strange collection of interests – from baseball to cake decorating, computers to crafting. I even developed a passing appreciation for NASCAR while living in North Carolina. Not that you can help it there – you practically pick it up through osmosis.

There are a few things in life, though, that I’ve always hated no matter how hard I try. Tomato juice. Horror movies. And “SpongeBob Squarepants.”

Just my luck Big Guy would wind up a fan.

Dad started this by buying Big Guy a DVD back in January after Big Guy kept crawling in bed with him to watch the cartoon. Unfortunately, Dad’s now sick of the “absorbent and yellow and porous” cartoon character. I’d laugh, except his Sponge Bob fatigue means I’m stuck.

To make it worse, Big Guy knows SpongeBob is “on the man” on our cable system. Round the clock access!


I suppose there’s a bit of “they don’t make ‘em like when I was a kid” coming into play. I just don’t find it funny to watch SpongeBob and his sidekick Patrick bonk each other over the head with hammers. It’s certainly no Road Runner dropping the anvil on Wylie Coyote. That, my friends, was high humor.

The morals depicted bother me, too. Cranky bosses and slacker workers. Sneaking into theaters without tickets. Getting ticked and taking what you want. It’s a trifecta of envy, wrath and sloth.

It bothers Big Guy that I don’t like SpongeBob, even though I’ve softened my “I’d rather be pistol whipped than watch it” stance to a more neutral “well, not everyone likes the same things.” He’d still plead with me. “Can’t you like it just a little?” “Well, maybe a little,” I’d concede.

The past week or so, I’d concocted a way to avoid watching the cartoon at all. I’d turn it on for a half hour and pretend to listen while I worked on the computer. “Wasn’t that funny, Mommy?” “Yeah, that was great.”

Tonight, though, he busted me faster than you can say “Windows startup screen.”

“Mommy, are you going to type? Please don’t. Sit here with me.”

Arrgggggghhhhh. Dang it. How can I resist that? Besides, it only lasts 14 minutes – that probably wouldn’t kill me.

So I clicked on the first episode listed in “on the man:” “Best Day Ever.”

Cliff’s Notes: SpongeBob bounces out of bed in the morning, singing gleefully about how it’s going to be “his best day ever.” Parental warning: the link includes an obnoxiously catchy song guaranteed to stick in your head.)

SpongeBob lists five things he’s going to do on this glorious day.

First, the restaurant where he works is condemned. Then he misses out on his “kay ra tay” when a friend’s roof springs a leak. Next, his best bud steals his fishing net. Finally, he gives up a tooth so grumpy old Squidward can use it as a replacement reed on his clarinet.

SpongeBob then realizes he hasn’t done any of the fun things he wanted to do on his “perfect day.”

As SpongeBob put it, “it all went to doo-doo.”

“What’s doo-doo, Mommy?”

In the end, the folks SpongeBob spent the day helping band together to help him have his “Best Day Ever.”

So maybe I was hasty. Maybe, just maybe, there’s something here I can work with after all. SpongeBob goes all out for his friends, even though at times it’s to his detriment. In the end, he’s rewarded for helping out.

I still could quibble that helping out should be its own reward but, hey, how much can you ask of a sponge?

And perhaps I should have trusted Big Guy’s budding moral compass a little more. “Mommy, that’s not right, is it?” he asked as SpongeBob tries to get into a show without a ticket. It’s probably better that I be around for him to bounce those observations off, instead of keeping my nose buried in a computer and my ears plugged to annoying lyrics.

My list is hereby reduced to tomato juice and horror movies.

Copyright 2007 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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