"Can you hear me now?"

   It's always amused me in this country how, if something is deficient or problematic, that the solution always seems to hinge on 'more' of whatever.

   Years ago I was in a Frisch's restaurant taking in a breakfast buffet when I noticed the  sausage gravy tasted as though someone had dumped an ashtray into the mix. When I informed a waitress of the situation she replied, "Oh, well, we're about to bring out some more in a minute." More lousy food is not the solution. This concept, of course, was captured in the movie Annie Hall, where Woody Allen recounts one of his favorite jokes: Two women are sitting in a Catskill resort having lunch and the first one says, "The food here is terrible." The second one responds with, "I know, and such small portions."

   So it was no surprise really when wireless companies heard the wails from shell-shocked parents regarding their little heathens running up additional minutes on calling plans. From a marketing viewpoint the worst thing the companies wanted was to lose customers. Armed with the knowledge that American parents are loathe to rein in the children's' bad habits, gradually went to extended plans and finally "unlimited" plans.

   Is it me or is there something wrong with handing an adolescent a cell phone that has "unlimited" minutes?

  When have the words "children" and "unlimited" ever meant anything good?

   And let's not let scientific study get in the way of the temporary mollification of kids (Study Links Brain Cancer to Children Using Cell Phones) as long as 'more is better' in this country everybody feels they are getting a deal.

Twitter? Twitcher is more like it

  Amazing to me how little media attention was paid to this; perhaps the Information Biggies quietly backed out of the room when this item came across the desk.

  But to my surprise, it was the last story of Wednesday's ABC World News Tonight [now with Diane Sawyer {and I dunno, she seems a bit too cloying to the camera for me, I think the network is going to lose some viewers}].

   But the story in question regards the screamer from a Kaiser Family Foundation study entitled "Daily media use among children and teens up dramatically from five years ago."

  Here is the summary of what they found, under the subheading — Most Youth Say They Have No Rules About How Much Time They Can Spend With TV, Video Games, or Computers.

   "With technology allowing nearly 24-hour media access as children and teens go about their daily lives, the amount of time young people spend with entertainment media has risen dramatically, especially among minority youth ... 8-18 year-olds devote an average of 7 hours and 38 minutes (7:38) to using entertainment media across a typical day (more than 53 hours a week). And because they spend so much of that time ‘media multitasking’ (using more than one medium at a time), they actually manage to pack a total of 10 hours and 45 minutes (10:45) worth of media content into those 7½ hours.

  The amount of time spent with media increased by an hour and seventeen minutes a day over the past five years, from 6:21 in 2004 to 7:38 today. And because of media multitasking, the total amount of media content consumed during that period has increased from 8:33 in 2004 to 10:45 today."

   That's TEN HOURS AND 45 MINUTES in an instantaneous, unlimited technological whirlwind of consumption: constant stimulation which doesn't allow the mind to settle on one focused, uncluttered train of thought because it's crammed into 7½ hours.

  Okay, that leaves 16½ hours left in the cycle and let's be optimistic and say the child gets 8 hours of sleep, which leaves 8½ hours.

   Eight and one-half hours a day.

   Eight and one-half hours a day that needs to include: time in a classroom (and maybe I'm wrong, but doesn't a child in an American public school spend at least five hours a day in a classroom?); time for homework; time for meals; time for bathing and going to the bathroom; time for exercise (perhaps they are running with their iPods and watching TV at the same time); time for after-school activities such as sports or music lessons, etc.; time for housework, or cutting the lawn, or reintroducing themselves to their parents.

   This should have been the lead story for every news outlet, but then again, they're part of the problem.

A moving experience

   Being the first-time parents of a toddler presents all manner of thresholds to conquer and potty-training could possibly be the most-prized achievement.

   As the little one has stuck with us through a number of household moves to differing climates — not to mention the varied day-care that accompanies the migration — it's not really a surprise to have a bit of a struggle 'taking to the pot,' as it were.

   This past week we have indeed climbed that mountain, I'm speaking, of course, of my daughter's first 'poop in the pot,' a glorious achievement I had never thought to be as ... well ... moving.

   Such momentous was the occasion that a photo documenting the excretion had to be snapped. Exhorting the toddler not to 'touch anything,' I exited the room to snatch the camera and quickly return.

   As I composed the frame to capture the essence of the occasion, my daughter — in her infinite wisdom — peered into the pot and shouted "Say 'cheese,' poop!"

   {Given the literal nature of the achievement, you can understand the rather banal illustration that accompanies today's post as opposed to, well, you know ...}

   The child's thrill of achievement was surpassed only by mine (I mean, this is real progress) and we celebrated with the only at-hand snack for the triumphant: Nonni's Chocolate Decadence biscotti and some milk.

   I can't wait until the first time she kicks some boy's ass. Jeez, what a meal that's going to be.

God save the Queen (and the jam)

   For those unaware of the childrens' television industry, believe me when I tout the universal popularity of The Backyardigans.

   Hatched from the mind of a near-Pittsburgh native, The Backyardigans appeals to both parent and child (not like that relentless shoutfest Yo Gabba Gabba {even though DJ Lance is quite the dude}).

   The animations of suburban animals with urban names is witty and instructive, multicultural without the usual cloying PC preachiness and cranks out music you can dance to.

   The Backyardigans are so popular, in fact, that BBC editors in the United Kingdom only make minor changes to the dialogue in order to make it more palatable for the average snot-nosed Crumpet-Stuffer.

   [Okay. Fair enough. I mean {for instance} coming around to "knock you up" means totally different things in Britain than it does in the U.S.]

   The penultimate action of each Backyardigans episode is punctuated by the growling of one of the character's tummies and the ensuing invitation for a snack at somebody's house. Interestingly enough, the cultural aspect which receives the most attention from BBC editors is comestibles considering that — globally speaking — decent food is something the English seem to know very little about.

   Let's see if we can make sense of the Brits' snips.

   In the episode Horsing Around, the suggested snack of blueberry muffins is whacked from the soundtrack and changed to fresh fruit salad. [a healthier substitution. ok.]

   Jam seems a vital part of the UK diet.

   In the calypso-driven Cave Party, a snack of cinnamon toast at Pablo's house is apparently deemed too exotic for English children and thus changed to jam and toast, and in High Tea peanut butter and jelly is changed to peanut butter and jam.

   Thank God and the Queen that someone is protecting the tiny psyches of lily-livered limeys who no doubt would be irreparably scarred by the exposure to the utterance of "jelly."

   But the work is not done for the Protectors of Chinless Wonder Culture (do you suppose a committee handles this editing job?).

   In the episode entitled It's Great to Be a Ghost, the snack of apples is changed to peaches, and in Castaways applesauce is silenced for apple juice. [this is not a joke]

   I mean, does it come as any surprise that this prissy empire of Fog-Breathers has given us words like "ponce" and "pusillanimous"?

Can I get a doctor?

   I know it may seem I beat up on Toys "R" Us a bit too much, but when you overwhelm your competition to become the bully of the industry, you can expect some deficiencies to emerge.

  Let's take my most recent visit as I attempted to purchase a doctor's kit for my daughter (who had days earlier been strutting around with a make-believe thermometer declaring, "I'm a doctor").

  Mind you our nearest T"R"U establishment includes a Babies "R" Us, so the place is massive, I figured I'd need help locating the item.

  Though glad I grabbed a clerk to help locate the doctor's kit, I was disappointed (as was he) that we couldn't locate the item despite being instructed by someone {allegedly} more versed in the store's merchandising that it was located in the Imaginarium section.

   [Imaginarium used to be a great store that I used to go into before I even knew I was going to be a father: a vast array of items that made science more accessible to young minds {and dimmer one's such as mine}. Unfortunately the chain struggled and was apparently cannibalized in 1997 after a bankruptcy filing.]

   So the clerk and I searched through Project Runway designer sets; Barbie and her plethora of fashion trend accouterment; Dream Dazzlers chic salon stylist sets; Bratz dolls and their accouterment; Disney Princess dolls and their accouterment; LIV fashion dolls and their accouterment ... you get the picture, and could not find anything approaching a doctor's kit.

   I thanked him for 'helping' and continued to hunt for another product. Minutes later the clerk reappeared with another lead which proved fruitful: a few Fisher Price Doctor's kits located on the very back wall of the store!

  Thrilled to find exactly what I wanted, I still could not help but think — as I trudged past aisle after aisle of over-priced princess and World Wide Wrestling-themed junk — that it should be no surprise the as a nation we are getting our collective asses kicked by the rest of the globe.

  I guess most of the doctors' kits are in India.

Let's get cereal for a moment

   Taking another swipe at childrens' obesity, General Mills announced plans today to drastically reduce the amount of sugar in Lucky Charms, Trix and Cocoa Puffs.

   The cereal pusher appears to be bowing (thankfully) to nutritional value concerns from consumers, regulators and health groups.

   Sugar levels in Cocoa Puffs will be reduced by a quarter — from 18 to 11 grams per serving.

   My favorite cereal for myself and my daughter — Cheerios — already has only 1 gram of sugar a serving and was not a product included in the overhaul.

    General Mills said the healthier, slimmed-down products will begin appearing in 2010.

   The Minneapolis-based company follows the health-affirming move by Kellogg's who last year cut up to 3 grams of sugar from such cereals as Froot Loops, Apple Jacks and Corn Pops. Kellogg also boosted fiber content to some of its products.

   Post Foods has also sucked as much as 20 percent of the sugar from Cocoa Pebbles and Fruity Pebbles while increasing vitamin content.

   Now if we can separate the little ones from video games and get them off the couch we may start to see some wight come off as well.

Not too Glad about this ad

   The most recent Glad ForceFlex television ad leaves me wondering about Momma's attention to hygiene.

   We are presented with what appears to be the perky, 'perfect Mom' — very early thirties (possibly late 20s), white, polite, smartly dressed — encouraging her son the importance of taking out the garbage {because, of course, she has never performed such a nasty task and is in need of a male six year old to haul off a bag that's as big as he is}.

   Since there is no dad in the ad, Glad appeals to the single moms, too, provided she has a son to "do the dirty deed." [Glad would have never cast a little girl to take care of this business].

  "Think you can handle it," Mom queries the defenseless — and not too enthused — young lad.

  I'm also guessing this 'perfect Mom' is ignorant of the fact {or she doesn't care} that her wee offspring then rolls the overstuffed garbage bag on the floor, carries it on his shoulder and then rolls it down the garage {or, incredibly, the basement} steps before wrapping his arms around it to hoist the now grimy bag into the garbage can.

  The commercial ends with a big Glad logo and some crapola about their wonderful product.

   What we do not see is whether the filthy moppet gets a big slurpy hug from Mom for a 'job well done,' or whether she shrieks at the putrid sight of her now stinking, germ-laden Schlabberkinder.

   Perhaps as the Glad campaign matures Tide can piggy-back a commercial.