ZOMG THIS PAGE NOT SAFE FOR WORK OR SCHOOL!OR ELSE YOU'LL HAVE CONSEQUENCES!!!!!!!! In the years since I stopped watching television I've never forgotten the Teletubbies. Something there hung with me. Something that the digitally enhanced colors, lilty childlike music and fluffy, impish dancing couldn't wipe away. Darker than most expect. And no, I'm not haunted by the alleged "liberal agenda" of the show. I don’t care that a bunch of right wing folks feel threatened by some puffy, dancing TV people. No, it was something else that I couldn’t put my finger on. What was it that resonated so deep in the core of me about Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Lala and Po? I woke one night in a sweat. The Revelation came to me and it shook me to my marrow. It's so much more complex than any child can grasp. So thick is the subtext that it could be misinterpreted or missed completely by the adults that are watching. Maybe, those that feared the “Agenda” only had it partly right. It's not a liberal agenda... it is simply a warning.

Teletubbies is a dark, Orwellian nightmare about a genetically engineered slave class creatures being systematically trained to become part of our society. In order for you to see what I mean, you need to Tivo or tape an episode. Just check the listings of your local PBS station. Just watch one and you will see exactly what I am talking about. Then perhaps the words that follow and the evidence I provide will resonate within you as they do in me. While no backstory has ever been provided on the show about where the Tubbies are or even where they come from, one thing is clear - they are not in control of their own destiny. Three things control their day to day lives. First there is "The Voice", a tinny female voice that tells them when to eat, when to sleep and when to say goodbye. The robotic, maternal voice blasts from a speaker implanted in the ground - hinting that something larger lies underneath and is constantly vigilant. The second is "Nu Nu", a harmless looking anthropomorphic vacuum cleaner robot who wanders after them, cleaning up their messes that they made and passively scolding them for bad decisions.

NuNu is the watchdog, the controlling tool of the powers that have placed the Tubbies here. The third in the Triumvirate is the iconic, menacing Pinwheel. The Pinwheel is the true power in Tubbyland, a mystical godhead that the simple minded Tubbies worship. When the pinwheel spins, the Tubbies stop whatever they are doing and run to the top of a hill. Here they perform a ritual for the gods in the sky, trying to curry favor. They gestate and roll around, like puppies having their bellies rubbed, trying to win the ultimate prize... and only one is favored. Only one can be chosen. When that one is chosen, they are blessed by having the genetically implanted bioelectric "television" screen in their abdomen activated. The Tubby is rewarded, not only by being the Pinwheel's messenger to the other Tubbies (a mouthpiece if you will), but also apparently by a physical orgasm of joy at the activation of the screen. And what does the screen show? It shows an indoctrination film. "Here is the world of man and one of its customs.

Learn for you will soon join us, live among us and serve us." A message from The Pinwheel God (I call it Revnoku... just because it sounds cool). When the ritual of the indoctrination is done, the Tubbies return to their day, child-like and innocent. Finally, watching over it all is the Sun-Baby. The innocent, benevolent soul of humankind hangs over it all, illuminating Tubbyland. You see, we are guiltless in this. We have chosen for ourselves the form of a child, an infant. miele vacuum s6 onyx canisterWhat could be more guilt-free and benevolent than a cooing baby? vacuum cleaner spares hornchurchIt is a form that the childlike Tubbies will understand and not fear, a form used to hide the watchful, totalitarian eyes that peer out from the darkness.karcher steam vacuum cleaner sv 1902 price

The powers that control Tubbyland have made it beautiful. Green and colorful... temperature controlled... I have not determined yet if it is an island or another planet. I lean toward planet because their underground bunker they live in seems to resemble some sort of buried space craft. Wherever they are, they are cut off from outside influence. Anyone who has ever watched “The Prisoner” can make the connection quickly. Like the Eloi from “The Time Machine”, they are kept simple, stupid, sated and enslaved in a place of vibrant beauty. Lambs to the slaughter. The better to devour you with, my dear. I beg you to watch and decide for yourself. It's all there on the screen and finally, for me, all the pieces fit. Children enjoy it, as they should, for the colors and the nonsense... for adults it should be a chilling warning of times to come in future. It is a morality tale about the potential dangers of cloning and genetic manipulation abuse by those who think themselves benevolent.

The Tubbies are alerting us to a future where genetically crafted, androgynous worker beings (with entertainment centers built into them) will serve us. Slaves who will stumble and babble their way through our world, pleasing us... for we are Revnoku!! We are the soulless, immoral God of their world. We demand their obedience. We demand that they perform and dance and work for us. Teletubbies is simply a warning about the encroaching darkness. The decay of the human spirit as it ages - fat, bloated and raping not only the natural world, but the world in future(possibly). Teletubbies is about the end of the world. Creepypasta The Truth Behind TeletubbiesOver the Labor Day weekend, The Oogieloves in the Big Balloon Adventure had the worst box office opening ever. According to The Wrap, The Oogieloves made $448,000 from 2,160 screens last Friday to Sunday. That’s an average of $207 per screen for a movie that cost an estimated $60 million. My first thought: “Where did all that money go: felt?”

My second thought was: “I have to see this.” I’m not a glutton for punishment. I’m just genuinely amazed when adults spend tens of millions of dollars on concepts that I know won’t work: Let’s make a romantic comedy based on a pregnancy guide! We need to remake Straw Dogs with James Marsden! Or in the case of The Oogieloves: Let’s make an interactive children’s movie featuring three life-size puppets that resemble the offspring of the Phillie Phanatic and a circus clown! We will give them voices as soothing as a dentist’s drill! Yesterday, I attended the 11:10 a.m. showing of The Oogieloves in the Big Balloon Adventure at AMC Hamilton. 11:03 a.m.: As I enter the building, the ridiculousness of my endeavor hits me: I’m a 35-year-old bearded man with no children watching a kid’s movie on a weekday morning. 11:07 a.m.: The cashier doesn’t sense my discomfort. “Do you want a wand?” she asks cheerfully. 11:09 a.m.: Wand in hand, I get to the theater.

It seats about 230. There are five other people—two women and three little girls—in attendance. I give them a two-row buffer zone. The women, presumably moms, scramble to recall if they saw any windowless vans in the parking lot. 11:20 a.m.: Our featured presentation begins. No one else has arrived, which begs the question: Why release a kids’ movie, even if it is from the creator of the Teletubbies, right before the school year starts for millions? 11:21 a.m.: Meet the Oogieloves! The green-tinged Goobie is the scientific one. Toofie, purple, is the adventurous one and sounds like a five-year-old who chain smokes. Zoozie, the lone girl, is fluent in every language. They also introduce the movie’s concept. When we see butterflies, the audience is supposed to sing and dance along. When turtles appear, everyone sits down. Before letting loose, we should ask the “big person” with us if it’s OK. That’s great for the kids, but who the hell am I supposed to ask?

11:25 a.m.: After a song, we’re whisked away to the Oogieloves home, LovelyLoveville. The film’s website describes LovelyLoveville “as a throwback to the 1950s, [where] all of its inhabitants support and bring out the best in each other.” Ah, yes, that innocent time of segregated drinking fountains and stifling conformity. 11:27 a.m.: The Oogieloves live in a neat home featuring a talking window named, “Windy.” When prompted with the chant of “1 … 3, Windy Window what do you see?” the kindly pane offers a view of what’s outside. The movie’s great skill is bombarding us with obnoxiously repetitive, hooky songs that will override any important knowledge. I no longer know my mother-in-law’s birthday but I can hum “The Oogielove Dance.” 11:30 a.m.: Windy spots J. Edgar, an animate vacuum, heading toward the Oogieloves’ abode. He loses the magic talking balloons for Schluufy, the gibberish-speaking pillow whose surprise party is being held that day.

11:33 a.m.: I cracked the wand, which produced a green glow, about 15 minutes ago. It may have produced something else. The plot kind of makes sense. 11:36 a.m.: After a sensible breakfast and strapping on their bicycle helmets, the trio sets off to retrieve the first of five balloons, which lands on the house shared by Dotty and her granddaughter, Jubilee. Jubilee loves squares and Dotty loves circles. Cloris Leachman, God bless her, plays Dotty like a drunker, older, shape-obsessed Blanche DuBois. Jubilee is played by Kylie O’Brien. I’ll just say this: In about 12 years, scores of teenagers will be very confused about why they get aroused whenever they see a square. 11:45 a.m.: J. Edgar clearly has a thing for Windy. I spend some time figuring out how a relationship could possibly work between the two. The filmmakers really should have pursued that. 11:47 a.m.: The gang heads to Milky Marvin’s Milkshake Manor for the next balloon. As Milky Marvin, Chazz Palminteri punctuates his lines with short, breathy “oohs,” which makes it sound like he’s climaxing every two minutes.

Insert inappropriate milkshake joke here. 11:52 a.m.: The kids in front of me have barely moved at this point. And the Oogieloves barely move their lips. 11:55 a.m.: Rosalie Rosebud (Toni Braxton) has the next balloon. Braxton is actually amusing as the oblivious diva. Too bad no one will see this performance—or behold her crooning about “Scratchy Sneezy” as a band of three endomorphic puppets accompany her. 12:02 p.m.: I’m an hour into this thing, and it’s puzzling but not the worst thing I’ve seen this year. Then there’s this: I find myself singing along. “Goofy Toofie, pick up your pants!” There goes my ATM code. 12:10 p.m.: Who plays Bobby Wobbly, the bubble-loving cowboy truck driver who has the fourth balloon? Cary Elwes, the hero of The Princess Bride, and my childhood’s answer to Errol Flynn. 12:12 p.m.: With his mouth agape and a constant wobble, Elwes gives a performance that is horrifying—and positively transfixing. It’s like watching Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs hosting a children’s show.

Here I have a revelation. Forget the Oogieloves, who are simultaneously bland (good manners are their superpowers, apparently) and obnoxious, or the illusionary plot. The reason The Oogieloves tanked is that it firmly resides in the valley of the bizarre. A talking vacuum cleaner that runs the household? A goldfish patterned after Don Rickles, only without the humor? Sure, make him the comic relief. Those qualities are also why it’s kind of great. After Elwes’s face-contorting, ass-slapping performance, I was hooked for the remaining 25 minutes. What else is there for you to enjoy: How about an offensive attempt to embrace diversity by casting Jaime Pressly (with an accent inspired by Ricky Ricardo) as a flamenco dancer who travels in a flying sombrero? Or what about those magic balloons appearing in an animated musical number that I can only guess were inspired by Terry Gilliam on cold medication? And Schluufy makes Eeyore look like a game show host. The pillow mumbles his responses, has no appendages, and sleeps until the afternoon.