This show is the reason people think television is bad for kids. It was meant to keep kids zombified by bright colors and twinkling music long enough for their mothers to get some housework done, and because Mom also wanted enough time after housework was done to down a few glasses of wine, the show was eight hours long. Do you know how ungifted a child has to be to watch HOURS of the same asinine puppet-beasts singing maniacal ballads about nothing? The vegetables were ALIVE. The produce at the produce stand had names, and they spoke and interacted with the same beings who intended to chop them to bits for salad. It was sick. Why would any child want to spend forever in the Victorian house so similiar to that of their great grandparents, the setting of the child's first experience with funerals? It was not intended to be educational, just appealing to small children. Putting aside the cynicism of that purpose, it simply failed to appeal to me, and I was the target age during its original run. Hearing the theme song meant it was time to find my mom so she could change it to Looney Tunes or something.
Review of Pinwheel
