The
Mike
Durrett
Show

Today's Episode:
Neighborhood Watch

Dateline: 03/09/98

Phew-fh-fh. Hi, phew-fffph-f. Welcome, to the -- phewffftfhphf-fhp -- show.

'Scuse, me, phewfff-f, I'm winded. Phew-phff-fhpfpp. Fewphwpp-phtht-hphe--ph. Phew-WHOO-Phpphf-wep-thp. Okay, I'm back to normal now. Sorry.

I've just been screaming and running berserk through the darkness, that's all. I do that whenever I get the urge to go screaming and running berserk through the darkness.

Let me tell you the story. I've been doing this Guide thang now for several weeks and I thought, Me (a name I call myself) -- you need to do something for the children. The children need guidance, too. And, as we all know, it takes a village idiot.

Ha, I kid the Me.

I'm all full of sunshine now.

So, while I was pondering what course to take, I casually clicked through this very GuideSite.  As I  punched the mouse, I saw Doug Anderson's in-depth account of the President Kennedy assassination back in 1963. You may have heard about that incident. It was in some of the papers.

This assassination story alleges -- the story, not me, The Mining Company, nor our sponsors -- Fred Rogers may have had something to do with with those bad deeds in Dallas. I'm not going to get into all that. I ain't Paul Harvey. Good............................................................................. day!

But it got me to thinking, Fred Rogers has a gig the kids dig. I figured he might also have a Web page, and I decided to mine it for possible inclusion in our Kids' Stuff links area.

I put on my new miner's hat -- gosh, I love that hat; the high beam on the bulb is phenomenal -- and searched and searched and searched and said plenty of "please" and "thank yous" until my browser bequeathed Mister Rogers' Neighborhood.

Here's my sweater. I can tie my sneakers.

Over the years, I have glimpsed snippets of Mister Rogers' television program. And, certainly, it is a wonderful oasis for the tots; however, I must say I have always wondered about a man who hangs out with puppets.

I'm not talking about puppeteers. That's a profession. Somebody's got to do that job, I guess, like somebody's got to filet the fish, somebody's got to sweep the streets, somebody's got to pressure wash Dennis Rodman. (Now, there's a petri dish waiting to culture.)

Mister Rogers, though, hangs out with puppets! I mean, he has puppets for drinking buddies.

"Sure. Sure, fellows, let's chow down on finger sandwiches and lime sweet tea. Sure. And be good to our wait-person. Sure. And drive carefully. Sure. And say our prayers. Sure. What's my deodorant? Sure."

Oooo, is that a storm cloud up ahead?

Anyway, here I am, a grown man, mining my own business, venturing where even the brave fear to tread, Mister Rogers' Neighborhood.

First stop, the Parents' Pages. Among these, designed to teach nurturing, I learned "what some families do every night:

• "...tell stories
• "sing softly
• "say goodnight to the chair, the window, the bed, and other objects in the room"

I was relieved when I read "take a bath," since things were starting to parallel the Charles Manson family.

Next, I was feeling frisky, and I invited Myself (a name I call Me) to a Sing-a-long!

Descent into Hell

Presented for your dining and dancing and rounded-scissors wielding pleasure are 15 Mister Rogers' hits, including the ever-popular "It's You I Like," "It's Such a Good Feeling," "Parents Were Little Once, Too," and "Won't You Be My Neighbor?" After performing a medley of eight or nine of these to the tune of "Take Me Now Dear Lord, Put a Stake Through My Heart" (my own composition), I took a short break to administer the home diabetes test and ponder the musical question "why can't my pussycat fly?"

That's simple. She won't sit still for the passport photo.

The Children's Corner beckoned and I entered, but not before peeking through the Venetian blinds to make sure the cops didn't have my house surrounded. I was beginning to feel quite ill at ease.

The "Neighborhood of Make-Believe!" urged me to enjoy an art project or coloring page and "start s - t - r - e - t - c- h - i - n - g  your imagination!" Too late, I was already t - h - r - o - b - b - i - n - g my migraine.

Oh, the spots. I can see spots.
I need to go potty.

Selections to be found among the exercises: "Ana Platypus and Her Toys," "Prince Tuesday Grows Up," "You Look Like a Special Person!" and "There Are Many Ways to Say 'I Love You!'" Oh, and "Fill Mr. Rogers' Aquarium," as tempting an invitation as I've ever had, but I decided to move on.

It was about this time I noticed my mumblings were growing more animated and, shall we say, filled with loathesome wrath, vituperative, monosyllabic sputterings of hate, Hell, and salted wounds, and a gala rainbow of curses, which expertly employed one of our most beloved fricatives. And then I mooned a picture of the Neighborhood Trolley. And we all know what that means, either I was becoming highly agitated by my "neighbors," or I saw cookie-selling Brownie Scouts bypass my cul-de-sac.

Since I had eleven cases of Thin Mints stocked away in my deep freezer, the little girls were not to be a sore spot this eve. Heavens, no, with that surplus, the lasses were safe until at least lunch tomorrow.

I knew why I was starting to quake. I was clicking my way into Mister Rogers' Plan and Play Activities. I had the choice of eight activities, such as : "Mad Feelings," "Everybody's Special," "Going Away and Coming Back," "Hijacking a Plane to Portland," "Tattooed Trollops on Ice," and "Uncle Fred's Sweater Moths Make Out Big Time."

Okay, there might have been some slight typos in that paragraph, I admit it.

No, thank you. No, please, no. I would not like a snack. Please, NO!

By the random process of throwing my ergonomic keyboard at the hard drive until it jumped to another page, I chose the "Banana and Peanut Butter Sandwiches" activity. In the introduction to this fascinating, rollercoaster ride, I learned "'Banana and Peanut Butter Sandwiches' can help children:

• "learn more about foods"
• develop fatal, heart clogging habits like Elvis. Just add bacon!

I also learned how to concoct these delectable treats. I will try to distill it down for you, the layperson. The good Mister sez: "Spread some peanut butter on one banana slice and put another banana slice on top. If the bananas get a little slippery and messy, you can put the peanut butter and banana slices between two pieces of bread--" WHOA! Wait a minute! You can use bread in a sandwich? My (a name I never call myself, although it is in the Rolodex), what a concept! Bread! Who would have thunk it?

Fred, give the kids some bread. Gee. You make them pick up bananas and peanut butter in their bare hands? Where exactly is this neighborhood of yours? Did you homestead the island in Lord of the Flies?

Say, isn't that my mother calling me?

In disgust and frustration, I hit the scroll bar on my computer. I discovered that this "sandwich" activity is, somehow, only a small part of a larger event called, "Making an Opera." Shudder ad infinitum.

Whenever I think about operas, I must admit, I do hear the baritone magic that is Fred Rogers. The voices in my head beseech "Out damn Pavarotti!"

Then, I saw it. The title of Mister Rogers' opera. Windstorm in Bubbleland.

I hit the door, running berserk into the darkness, screaming, "Bread! Bread! Bread!" Some hip Brownie Scouts threw cash in my direction. On my next lap, I scooped up the box of chocolate chips they dropped during their adorable, hasty exits, and had me a nice snack and "quiet" time as I raced helter-skelter, wailing my way through the night.

Sure.

---

About Your Guide: Mike Durrett has no children, although he is considering adopting a sock puppet.

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