Teletubbies appeals to a wide, ecstatic audience

They're not Barney, though they share the same large furry characteristics. A main difference: Barney never played with "e."

Perhaps this is why the television show "Teletubbies" has become a club-kid/college student fetish, and popular outside of the preschool-aged group the four television-tummied creatures were created for. Since the show first aired one-and-a-half years ago in England, us shameless Americans have fallen prey to another British fad. Forget the Spice Girls turmoil, they're about to publish a recipe for TubbyCustard. Haro, Teletubbies.

A brief character synopsis and vocabulary guide for the uninitiated:

Teletubbies are creatures about five feet tall, give or take a couple inches, who have television monitors in their torsos. When the big windmill sprinkles pink sparkling dust over Teletubbyland, the antennae on top receive signals and start to glow. The lucky Tubby transmits short videos, shown twice for that short preschool attention span, of real live children doing interesting things like picking oranges with Grampa or blowing bubbles.

TinkyWinky is the largest Teletubby. He is purple and carries a red handbag. Some sources report that TinkyWinky cares for Teletubbies of his own gender.

Dipsy is the green Teletubby who dances hellishly well for a five-foot tall creature with a large ass. Dipsy sports a fashionable cow-patterned top hat.

LaaLaa has a magic ball that she loves. LaaLaa is yellow and the second smallest. LaaLaa's ball can change shapes-once when she was throwing it up in the air it changed into a big red lowercase "e." A big red floating "e." It could make someone happy, ecstatic almost.

Po is the littlest, the red one. She speaks Cantonese and plays on her scooter, which she calls her "cooter."

NooNoo is the Teletubbies' pet vaccuum cleaner. They love NooNoo because it cleans up spilled clouds and TubbyCustard. Eh-Oh.

The BabySun is a yellow baby's face in a sun. It laughs and coos at the Tubbie's antics.

The Tubbies live in Teletubby land, and can never leave. Their home is called either Home Hill or the Tubbytronic Superdome. There are remarkably tame bunnies who sit around and occasionally hop through the astroturf and flowers as the Tubbies dance and sing.

The British Broadcasting Company's Teletubbies webpage has quotes from parents whose children have caught the TubbyBug. John Ridley wrote in that his son "plays with Hoovers and points out NooNoos wherever we go! (He checks the cupboards!)"

The appeal of Teletubbies to parents is understandable. They're multicultural, I suppose: all colors and apparel preferences. BBC has even designed "Tubbytronic Technology" so that Teletubbies can speak many languages of the world.

BBC also cites nine reasons why the Teletubbies are educational to preschoolers. BBC claims the show promotes a sense of humor, reinforces speech (uh... haro?), encourages listening, teaches through repetition, promotes affection, increases confidence, encourages movement (especially when one is on the couch watching the show) and lastly, the Teletubbies celebrate individuality. Unfortunately most post-preschoolers think they don't need to learn all this. So if the Tubbies are actually successful in promoting any of the above to anyone of any age, more power to them.

Then there are other reasons why old folk-ages 16 and up-watch the show religiously. Why, for example, the dolls are in the front window of the Oberlin College Bookstore. As one faceless nameless person put it, "they're so...trippy."

That person could have been referring to the "e" episode, or maybe the "Blue" episode where the Tubbies learned about the color blue by staring at the sky, at puddles, and singing "blue blue blue sky blue" over and over. Perfect viewing at 8:30 a.m. when you haven't yet gone to bed.

When the Teletubby television show first aired in the States this spring, there was a premiere party at the Roselands in New York. Lucky guests were treated to TubbyCustard, TubbyToast, and free Tubby merchandise such as furry neon plush backpacks, dolls and CD-roms.

And why shouldn't the Teletubbies be hellishly appealing? It's generally sunny in Teletubbyland, the Tubbies listen to nice music and dance by rubbing butts, and they don't work. There's no proper grammar to know in Tubbyspeak other than "Laa Laa be loving playing widda ball inside-oh so nicey."

It's open for interpretation. Perhaps the appeal is in the endless party conversation possibilities, such as the socialist thread that runs through the show. Or it could lie in Po, who is little and red, loves her cooter and has an antenna with a round hole at the top. She likes to blow other Teletubbies up the slide. Anyone can try and rhyme Po with... something else, or discuss the ingredients in Tubbycustard.

Teletubbyland may not present reality to preschoolers. Their NooNoo cleans up their Tubbymess and they live in a kickass dome with shiny silver blankets on their beds. They're lauded for watching television. But for people who aren't yet resigned to paying bills and actually working, there's a dreamlike quality to the show that, unlike most other children's shows, is computerscapey and not dated. We are in the technological era. Why not embrace it, baby, while you're young. Over the hills and far away, the Teletubbies come out to play...