Condemning Cookie

There he was, a miniature ball of blue fluff in yellow overalls, my very own Cookie Monster stuffed animal. As I sat mesmerized and pulled the cord to hear his voice, Cookie taught me many things. Of course, there was the traditional, “C is for Cookie,” and the more delightful moan of “Cooooooooookie.” But amidst all that cookie talk was another message, “Me love vegetables.”

The Sesame Workshop doesn’t seem to remember that Cookie always had his healthy moments, even if he couldn’t quite pronounce the word vegetable. No, apparently, Cookie’s greed must be stopped. Thus, this week the Workshop announced that Cookie Monster will be cutting down on the number of cookies he consumes, as part of Sesame Street’s “Healthy Habits for Life” initiative.

Dr. Rosemarie T. Truglio, the show’s vice president of research and education said, “We are not putting him on a diet, and we would never take the position of no sugar. We’re teaching him moderation.”

One small problem, though. Cookie…is a monster. It’s right there. In his name. Whoever heard of a monster concerned with moderation?

My own desire to preserve the Cookie Monster of my childhood aside, the recent decision to change Cookie’s gluttonous ways is not simply an outrage, but a telling moment about where the pinnacle of all children’s shows is heading. Since 2000, the Sesame Workshop has had full control of the Sesame Street characters, and I’m pretty sure that Jim Henson never meant for his creations to be bastardized in such a ridiculous way.

The Sesame Street characters are supposed to represent childhood impulses. And sometimes—if not often—children would like to eat a whole box of cookies.

I have no problem with teaching healthy living to preschoolers—though I suspect that the obesity epidemic would be combated better by parents not letting their preschoolers eat a bunch of junk food, as opposed to punishing a puppet.

The new Cookie now says things like, “Me never eat a cookie this big before in me life. Me want to eat it all up. No, no, no, me not supposed to.”

This is the same creature who eats a pencil, a typewriter, and a phone, all while trying desperately to get a letter to Santa in “Christmas Eve on Sesame Street.” Maybe little kids are getting dumber, but not only did I refrain from becoming a cookie fiend from this monster’s influence, I also never ate a typewriter.

If the Workshop is so concerned with setting a bad example, they should check out Cookie’s grammar first. Of course, they would justify this the same way they justify Elmo’s speech patterns: as the FAQ on their website claims, “Like most three-and-a-half-year-olds, [Elmo] doesn’t always have the mature skills or knowledge to speak ‘proper’ English.” Apparently this reasoning isn’t good enough to support Cookie’s snack-filled fun. To tell you the truth, I am much more scared at the prospect of teaching children to speak in the third person—as Elmo does—than promoting typical childlike behavior.

Surely this is only the beginning. I sure hope mental health is next on the agenda—we can cure Oscar’s depression and get to dealing with Bert’s Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. And the Count, clearly, is desperately in need of a psychological evaluation.

By changing Cookie Monster in this way—even slightly—you change the fundamental essence of him, the (polyester) fiber of his being, making his very name something somehow impermissible. Forcing very young children to contain their desires and to feel bad about their personality should not be the way to go. Segments on carrots and exercise are fine by me, but not at the expense of my favorite monster.

Margaret M. Rossman ’06, a Crimson associate editorial chair, is an English concentrator in Mather House.