A Modest Proposal . . . for the treatment of books written by “Celebrity” “Authors”

According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, the total estimated cost to raise a child to age 18, based on a report filed in 2004 is $269k, and that does not include college. According to me, in a 2006 realization- too many celebrities are publishing children’s books. So, using this line of deductive reasoning- I’ve concluded that all infant spiders love vanilla ice cream. Ok, just kidding.

But Seriously: Katie Couric, John Travolta, John Lithgow, Jerry Seinfeld, Jayne Seymour and Jamie Lee Curtis are all “authors” of children’s books. The phenomenon of celebrities writing books for children isn’t a new one- as Karen Macpherson, writing for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, cited the Hollywood heavyweight names of Roy Rogers, Frank Sinatra, Shirley Temple and Elizabeth Taylor as famous people who have added the term child’s book “author” to their list of accomplishments. Just this past year- Terrell Owens wrote a book that boasted the title- “Little T Learns to Share”, quite a lesson in morality I’m sure. I would rather have my life depend on my ability to teach a cricket to dress seductively enough to land a tiger shark, than to be forced to read a book written by Owens. He has a better chance of becoming a participant in a dog orgy than to participate in an activity that might resemble moral behavior. Thankfully however, only one children’s book “written” by a celebrity has made it into my house and I’m considering burning that one when I start up the annual Super Bowl day fire this afternoon.

The Magically Mysterious Adventures: When my son goes to the shelf to select a book for me to read to him and unwittingly decides upon Gloria Estefan’s book- “Noelle the Bulldog” a part of me dies inside. I cringe and convulse and sweat as if I’ve been told I have fish odor syndrome and feel as if I am being treated like the guy from "A Clockwork Orange" in order to suffer through my son’s take on aversion therapy. I must answer to my son’s demand of being read to while sardonically delivering near-rhymes Estefan’s tarot card reader probably came up with. As I’m weeping uncontrollably after reading such couplets as:
Then they swam close together and, lifting her high,
Put her back on dry land and at once they all cried,
AND
We thought everyone everywhere knew how to swim.
So did I, said Noelle. That’s why I jumped in.

I can also almost feel my ears bleeding. Dreaming at once that I should be thankful for not being able to hear such worthless crap, while thinking how I must sound to my son if I cannot hear my own words (hey, my ears are bleeding- I’m a realist). I would sound as if I had taken too much of Seymour Correctly’s heart medication.*

Father, son, and holy cow: I read the books my son wants me to read, or doesn’t yet know he wants me to read, and I’ve started doing the same for my daughter. The two of them are so darn cute and precious you want to do something as integral and fun as read to them. What else am I going to do- BLOG? Just two weeks ago I got my four-month-old daughter to giggle for the first time without cheating. Meaning- I was being a dork without tickling her. My son has taken to consecrating bovines with his familiar- "holy cow"- hilarious. As a parent you have to: keep your kids from throwing food on the floor, be prepared to change their diaper 8 times a day, keep them from drinking their own bath water, keep them from eating books (more on this below), and watch Johnny and the Sprites. Yuck! Sometimes I think I would rather give a chihuahua a prostate exam.

The joys of parenting: Trying to put socks on a baby is more difficult than getting a night-crawler on a hook on a windy day when you’re fishing on Lake Mille Lacs. The frenzied or happy kicking is the equivalent to rock-em sock-em robots . Kids say things like “fun” when you ask them how their hot dog is or how their nap was- this is priceless. It would be interesting to know the etymology of the word “saw” when it is used by a toddler as a synonym for any type of fan- (even the one that keeps the big boar cool at the Minnesota State Fair). Between their cooing and how it feels to hold them as they squirm as infants to cleaning up their #2s that are “five wipe jobs” and q-tipping French toast vomit from a heat register, you can’t help but love them; to slightly alter a line from “Apocalypse Now”- “there’s nothing like the smell”** of heated vomit in the afternoon. The other life I might have lived had I not been married and been fortunate enough to have kids, I miss in my mind every day, but it is hard to equal the innocence and dependence of a little child who depends on you, or the woman you love who is much more adept at being depended upon.

The subjection of children . . . and adults: The fact that you love your kids so much makes it hard to subject them- and you, to the reality of published books that bear the name of someone whose fame was initially derived from acting, or singing, or just general notoriety. Case in point- if Madonna can publish a book for children- what’s next? Courtney Love’s ode to virginity for little girls. My son is fast approaching his second birthday and we have repeatedly STOPPED him from consuming books. The floor of our house is blanketed with frayed Disney, Sesame Street, and Sandra Boynton books because of my son's teething. These are respected, legitimate page-turners, that kids have grown up with for years. It would be sad to know that respected children's books such as “Goodnight Moon” or “Where the Wild Things Are” were written by someone whose only reason for getting published was because they thought they were qualified, were disillusioned by the mundane nature of their hollywood lives or because people know they are celebrities. I first became aware of this unfortunate success of the unworthy authors in the entertainment business when I heard Jimmy Stewart recite a poem he wrote about cats on the Johnny Carson show. Jimmy Stewart- American icon, marginal actor- not a poet.

Another modest proposal: in 1729 Jonathon Swift published a revolutionary satirical essay he called- “A Modest Proposal”. In 2007 I plan to gather my notes and write a children’s book that contains much of the material contained in the Joys of parenting paragraph above- as I am not a celebrity and actually have a talent for writing and have never been famous- I don't imagine it will be published- lest I publish it myself. My advice for all parents out there, to combat this onslaught of unqualified “authors” is somewhat akin to what Swift proposed in his essay so many years ago- he tongue in cheek advocated the poor of Ireland sell their children to be used as food as a way of earning money. All I’m doing is urging people to not buy books “written” by “celebrities” so that those who have great ideas and have yet to lead interesting lives can do so by getting their child’s book or novel published. Jealous? Yes, and mindful that publishers may use some of the money gained from celebrity authors to attempt to push books written by non celebrities, I am indeed disgusted by an untalented person, in any field, rewarded for something they have not earned. Celebrity "authors" should feel the way the Pittsburgh Steelers should have felt after "winning" last year's Super Bowl- because of all the blown calls by the officials- they should feel as if they had not earned their "achievement". My idea- what to tell your child if you see a book written by LL Cool J, Tyra Banks, Eminem or Reese Witherspoon come into your house and your aural-staged infant on their way to toddler-dum acquires a "taste" for it- hmmm . . . what to tell them . . . bon appetit!

Postscript- 1) Synchronicity at its finest- Gloria Estefan introduced the opening act at the Super Bowl; 2) My son has the flu- don't have time for a fire- guess I'll have to burn her book next weekend.

* See Seymour’s two part guest column on racism from January 3rd and 12th. A side effect of heart medication is a thick tongue.
** The rest of the line is- “napalm in the morning.”