I am not a jerk. I love kids. I’m a good neighbor. I vote. I like puppies. So you can see I’m not a monster. But what I say next may be shocking. 

I don’t like Elmo. 

I can tolerate him in books, where I get to use my own voice. On TV, I can tolerate him in low doses, but 10 minutes of Elmo’s World at the end of “Sesame Street” is about all I can stand. 

“Elmo Live,” the 90-minute touring show that makes an annual visit to St. Louis, pushes me to my outer limits. I’ve gone the last two years with my twins, now 4. I’m hoping by next year that Elmo joins rattles, binkies and sippy cups in the “baby stuff” category they do anything to avoid.

But this year, there we were at the Scottrade Center in section 110, row Q, seats 112, 113, 114 and 115 (I dragged my 11-year-old son along to help carry concessions and with bathroom trips).

The plot seemed contrived, the acting seemed forced and the only character I really identified with was Oscar the grouch. 

Occasionally, they mixed in an old song from the pre-Elmo days when I was a big fan. Kermit the Frog, who was retired with the passing of Muppet creator Jim Henson, elevated the level of child discourse, and Elmo seems to dumb it down a bit. But if I had to sit through 90 minutes of a giant Kermit singing and dancing, I might feel differently.

Nope, I won’t be sorry when, for my kids, the proverbial curtain falls on “Elmo Live” and everything else Elmo.

I know he’s cute and educational. But he’s a little grating. And every year, there’s a new toy version of Elmo that has more tricks. The first one just laughed, vibrated and wanted to be tickled. The next fell over laughing and picked himself up off the floor. The latest moves and says all sorts of things.

So, as I sit channeling my inner Oscar and contemplating Tickle-me Elmo and his animated progeny, I offer Fisher-Price enough Elmo-innovation for years to come:

What’s that smell-mo?: Pull Elmo’s finger and see what happens.

Break-out-in-a-rash and swell-mo: Feed a variety of foods to your doll and see which one he’s allergic to.

Repel-mo: Bug spray in an Elmo-shaped doll.

Don’t-ask-don’t-tell-mo: A camouflage-clad version of our fuzzy red fellow. Comes with fabulous accessories.

Go-to-h**l-mo: The muppet with an attitude. Must be 18 or older to purchase.

Ya-don’t-hafta-yell-mo: A little less profane than previous. Suitable for preteens. 

Jell-mo: For kids who don’t like their Elmo hard and crunchy.

Padded cell-mo: Comes with straightjacket and maniacal laugh.

I-can’t-spell-mo: We often learn best when we teach. Help our buddy improve his writing skills, and maybe see if you can get him to quit referring to himself in the third person.

Wishing well-mo: Throw a coin at him, make a wish and wait for it to come true. My wish is for him to run out of batteries.

Get-out-and-sell-mo: Motivational toy for businesspeople. I know one would motivate me more than a serene nature photograph with an inspirational message underneath.

Well, toymakers, I’ve tossed these ideas out there. I’ll just sit and wait for the checks to start showing up. Maybe to kill some time, I’ll go catch Disney on Ice and see what pops into my head.

(Dave Bundy is editorial director for the Suburban Journals of Greater St. Louis. Reach him at dbundy@yourjournal.com or 314-744-5772.)

This entry was posted on Monday, April 20th, 2009 at 11:33 am and is filed under Columnist Dave Bundy. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.