THAT’S HOW THE COOKIE CRUMBLES

BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL

For someone who has voluntarily kept her DNA out of the gene pool, I watch a lot of kid-targeted television. It’s my not-so-guilty viewing pleasure and a source of bemusement for my friends who have young’uns and wistfully dream of someday discovering if other stations exist besides Disney and Nickelodeon.

Call me developmentally arrested, but I’ll watch four consecutive episodes of “iCarly,” and I’ll laugh loudly, shamelessly, and frequently. Call me a bored escapist who should get out more, but I’ll vehemently debate the social relevance of “SpongeBob SquarePants” (it has none). Call me a kid at heart, but I get a nostalgic thrill when I happen upon oldies but goodies like the “ZOOM” video I found in a thrift store, the revival of “Schoolhouse Rock” and a show I watched since its inception, “Sesame Street.”

I hadn’t visited “Da Street” in the three or so years since my twin nephew and niece outgrew the program, so I decided to catch up with my Sesame peeps. I saw several new kids on the block, as well as all the old homeys. Ernie and Bert – still kickin’ it bachelor-style; the Count – his same number-lovin’ self; and Cookie Monster was stuffing his gullet full of … fruits and vegetables?

I felt boondoggled, mind-boggled and hornswoggled, like I’d stepped into “Sesame Street: The Bizarro World Edition.” I’d always been confident in the knowledge that three things in life are certain: Death, taxes and the fact that “C is for cookie.” But my faith faltered upon hearing Cookie Monster’s new anthem, “Cookies Are a Sometimes Food.”

Being a seasoned newshound, I consulted the Internet to investigate this unsettling turn of events. I learned that the program’s producers, noting the national rise in childhood obesity, restructured the show to teach kids about exercise and healthy eating. I also found out I’m four years late discovering this, but that’s beside the point.

What kind of cockamamie world are we living in where a Cookie Monster munches on mangos instead of macaroons, tomatoes instead of Trefoils, squash instead of snickerdoodles, lentils instead of … well, you get the picture. It’s radicchio … er, ridiculous! What’s next, Oscar becoming a compulsive bather? Grover achieving calmness through yoga and Ritalin? If they want to create a Broccoli Beast or a Veggie Varmint, fine, but gimme back my cookie-chomping critter!

Certainly, I don’t take health matters lightly; I realize obesity is a problem in our nation … heck, it’s a problem in my mirror! But what harm is there in keeping Cookie Monster true to his name? Obviously, he’s suffered no ill effects from eating nothing but sweets the first 36 years of his life – he hasn’t aged a day, his fur has a healthy glow and he doesn’t have to worry about sugar rotting his teeth, for he has none!

I say they can the veggies, boot the fruit and let him eat Cakesters. After all, C isn’t for carrot, it’s for cookie. And that’s good enough for me.