Saturday, January 31, 2009

Hannah Montana and the soft, warm torment

They listen to Hannah Montana at daycare. Kate sings the songs with a heartfelt sincerity and passive aggressively bemoans the fact that she owns no Hannah Montana music of her own. "Some things should just be special to daycare" I say. Meanwhile, my panicked brain searches back into my own childhood for exactly when the noxious bubblegum music held sway.

As far as I can tell, I largely avoided it. If there was a period during which I fully embraced such painful pop I would have to say the tween years. I fully expected I'd have until then before Kate and Sarah got hooked on the stuff. I loved the Go-Gos Talk Show but I'm certain I was 11 at the time. The Go-Gos were Keith's fault. For Christmas or maybe my birthday he got me that LP. Later he would make me the proud owner of my first Motels cassette. I came early to angst, though, and I recall in 1986 firmly deciding that top 40 music was no longer good. I did not accept that it had never been good and indeed, I still love much of the tripe I adored in those early years because it was the soundtrack of my childhood. In 1986 though, I noticed the suckiness of it all. Bring on The Cure, The Smiths, The Ramones, Guadalcanal Diary, New Order and an alarming quantity of black clothing...here come the teen years.

The fact that Kate's gotten started at 4 makes me wonder if I should steel myself for a much earlier sex talk, too. I don't know, but that's not what I'm here to talk about today. While I've so far managed to hold the Hannah Montana infiltration at bay ( I assume that girl got her shot at the biz when they realized she was the daughter of Billy Ray Cyrus and listened to her patiently because they thought it was likely she was mildly retarded) I was unprepared for the latest. My sister-in-law Diane mailed a late Christmas gift to the kids. Sleeping bags that LIGHT UP. One Tinker Bell and one Dora. Along with that gift came a little something for me. She'd drawn my name in our family Christmas gift drawing and meant to send this item along as a joke. I opened it. The box contained the softest pajama bottoms I've ever seen. "Hannah Montana" is inscribed all over them. Kate actually laughed and pointed at me.

Here's how I know I am old. Though horrified at the branding I wear these jammies because they are the softest, warmest things I've come into contact with in ages. Curse you Miley Cyrus. And curse your greedy producers.

10 comments:

FlapScrap said...

There is an up-side: HM fans tend also to be susceptible to the "abstinence pledge" ballyhoo that's sweeping the nation. (Don't laugh -- you were a "just say no" girl back then, I recall.) These kids -- these girls, actually; let's not pretend -- these girls protect their virginity by only doing oral and anal. So, chin up!

Sister K said...

none of OUR generations bubble gum crap i mean pop was as bad as HM...good luck w/ thatb (um and i'm not sure i'd want HM being played for my pre-schoolers in daycare? :)

Aunt So-So said...

I spent a whole week watching Hannah Montana with Abigail two summers ago and I kinda liked it. But then again I was way into hair bands in elementary school and my parents hated it. I have a soft spot for crap.

Keith said...

If you want her to get bored with HM, you have to get her the tunes. Make her earn the album, then, when she has the This Is Crap epiphany, she'll segue seamlessly into It's All A Lie So I Wear Black stage. Meanwhile, I'm a shade disturbed at how much Kevin seems to know about the abstinence pledge.

miley cyrus clothing said...

hannah montana is one of my niece's favorite celebrity coz she looks so pretty.and

Sister K said...

ok...i admit...i liked debbie gibson and our day's versions of innocent pop (but she was so inocent w/ her hats :)

Sister K said...

innocent

Brooklyn Volunteer said...

I would change preschools. Shouldn't she be singing "Wheels on the bus" or "10 little monkeys"?

I still think that my little sister owes me a big thank you. She started listening to NKOTB and I berated her viciously. I forced her to listen to Violent Femmes (they opened my ears when I was 12). My album was recorded on a tape with scotch tape over the square holes on the corner by my cool, big city friend Sarah.

Ellen P said...

I would like a picture of these jammies.

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