What would T.S. Eliot make of SpongeBob?
December 12, 2004 | 12:00am
Whenever I think about today’s pop culture, I always end up feeling like a cantankerous old crank. Whether it is today’s pop music, movies, reading matter or cartoon choices, I feel a wave of complaints bubbling up inside me, then that inner voice kicks in with the hushed thought: Could it simply be that I’m just too old to appreciate SpongeBob SquarePants?
Maybe. But when I watch so much of what passes for entertainment nowadays, I can’t help feeling it’s all been said and done before, and much better. This is the mark of a true crank.
If I happen to mention that, hey, the truly subversive Ren & Stimpy cartoon was there way before SpongeBob, and that maybe people should check out that cartoon for, like, historical reference, all I ever get from this generation is blank stares. That’s okay, too.
The fight to preserve tradition, to give things an historical context, was also a concern of T.S. Eliot’s. In his essay "Tradition and the Individual Talent," he argued that poets and artists have to at least grapple with the weight of previous accomplishments, whether it’s the Western canon or multicultural works, before they can even think about creating anything new. Nothing comes from nothing. You can only reject what came before after you’ve absorbed it. Artists ignore this at their own peril.
This is not just some stodgy argument penned by a bitter academic. If we extend Eliot’s reference to "poetry" to encompass music, movies, books, graphic fiction, cartoons – basically everything that passes for pop culture – then we have to allow that this generation has no great respect for history or tradition.
Sure, they/we play a good game of pop trivia, believing we have absorbed history if we can draw at least one line back to some other Antecedent – say, knowing that Puff Daddy’s I’ll Be Missing You is a direct lift from the earlier Police song, Every Breath You Take. We think we’re hip if we can spot a reference or two in a Quentin Tarantino film to some older film classic that we haven’t really seen, but still know it’s in there. But this is a shallow grasp of history at best.
I’ll give an example. I’m surrounded by music nowadays: It blares from people’s computers, from their MP3 players, even from their cellphones. Limewire and iPod playlists mix genres and styles, shuffling downloads at random so that nothing has historical context. Everything exists simultaneously, old and new. We pride ourselves on our ability to suck it all in, without mediation. A reggae version of Baby, I Love Your Way is followed by a technofied resurrection of American Pie by Madonna. Neither song asks for or demands any knowledge of its antecedent; they’re just cash-in remakes. But isn’t it more interesting to note that the former is a remake of a song by (John Mayer predecessor) Peter Frampton, and that the latter is based on Don McLean’s 10-minute opus about Buddy Holly? No? Well, then you’re missing out on a lot of history.
With our shuffled playlist lifestyle, everything gets tossed into the cultural washer/dryer, losing all grounding and context. There’s no history. No sense of tradition.
This wouldn’t matter much if pop culture were actually getting any better. But it’s not. We’ve sucked up so many past decades in our efforts to go retro that there’s literally nothing left to suck. Note the lame remakes mentioned above. Notice that movie sequels are the safe bet that keeps the Hollywood wheels churning, not independent scripts or films. Notice that hits from the ‘60s, 70s and ‘80s tend to get re-recorded and re-packaged in endless movie soundtracks. That’s because the music was better.
Movies were better, too, as was literature in general. This is not just crankiness talking. It’s just true.
And while we’re at it, cartoons were also better. I’ve only watched an episode or two of SpongeBob SquarePants, and I confess to not laughing much. Realizing that the show is aimed at tickling our idiot funnybone, and that one is supposed to laugh because of the moronic aesthetic at hand, I still find it to be a pale imitation of the brilliant and uniquely bizarre Ren & Stimpy (still shown in nightly reruns on Cartoon Network). Debuting in 1993, Ren & Stimpy set a standard for anarchic retro adult animation that is unlikely to be equaled, let alone surpassed. Sixties animation styles are parodied, childhood TV ads, as well as modern standards of taste. A sample episode, "Jiminy Lummox," finds Ren Hoek, the dog, embarking on a series of practical jokes, including filling a platoon of beavers with lemonade and then releasing them into a lake, so that they relieve themselves, thus contaminating the local water supply. His gags go noticed by pal Stimpy, the cat, who offers to lend his conscience to Ren ("It’s your inner voice that tells you when you’re doing wrong"). The conscience is personified by a moronic, overweight, derby-wearing lummox, the one from the title. All references to "Jiminy Cricket" are completely intentional, and there for our viewer enjoyment. Jiminy does Ren bodily harm whenever he thinks about misbehaving – clobbering him with a large monkey wrench or dropping a Cadillac from above when Ren thinks bad thoughts. Astute viewers will also catch shades of A Clockwork Orange in this typically brilliant, twisted episode.
Meanwhile Stimpy, freed from his conscience, becomes atypically mischievous. Ren wakes in horror to find that his enshrined collection of Used Celebrity Underwear is gone – worse, Stimpy has washed it all! "Now I can’t tell Jerry Lewis’ socks from June Allison’s underwear!" wails Ren in desperation. "Why did you do it? Why?!!!???"
This is cultural mind warp at its finest, worthy of vintage David Lynch or John Waters.
SpongeBob, in comparison, borrows some of its gross-out moves from Ren & Stimpy (there are horribly detailed close-ups of abscesses, bloody-red eyeballs, butt hair) but there’s no sense of… history. Or meaning. Again, there’s no context. SpongeBob is simply a doofus. Yet his image sells more merchandise (mostly, I suspect, to adults) than Ren & Stimpy ever could. Even the title of this article snuck in a reference to SpongeBob, just to get some name recognition. Would people read it if it were simply about T.S. Eliot?
Anyway, the cultural wars are underway. The battle to preserve meaning and tradition is a difficult one. As technology paves the way for more unmediated absorption of culture, we lose a little sense of our past, and our selves, every day. When the final dust settles, we’ll know what’s worth preserving and what’s just dust in the wind. Until then, my eye is on Ren & Stimpy vs. SpongeBob.
Let the smackdown begin.
Maybe. But when I watch so much of what passes for entertainment nowadays, I can’t help feeling it’s all been said and done before, and much better. This is the mark of a true crank.
If I happen to mention that, hey, the truly subversive Ren & Stimpy cartoon was there way before SpongeBob, and that maybe people should check out that cartoon for, like, historical reference, all I ever get from this generation is blank stares. That’s okay, too.
The fight to preserve tradition, to give things an historical context, was also a concern of T.S. Eliot’s. In his essay "Tradition and the Individual Talent," he argued that poets and artists have to at least grapple with the weight of previous accomplishments, whether it’s the Western canon or multicultural works, before they can even think about creating anything new. Nothing comes from nothing. You can only reject what came before after you’ve absorbed it. Artists ignore this at their own peril.
This is not just some stodgy argument penned by a bitter academic. If we extend Eliot’s reference to "poetry" to encompass music, movies, books, graphic fiction, cartoons – basically everything that passes for pop culture – then we have to allow that this generation has no great respect for history or tradition.
Sure, they/we play a good game of pop trivia, believing we have absorbed history if we can draw at least one line back to some other Antecedent – say, knowing that Puff Daddy’s I’ll Be Missing You is a direct lift from the earlier Police song, Every Breath You Take. We think we’re hip if we can spot a reference or two in a Quentin Tarantino film to some older film classic that we haven’t really seen, but still know it’s in there. But this is a shallow grasp of history at best.
I’ll give an example. I’m surrounded by music nowadays: It blares from people’s computers, from their MP3 players, even from their cellphones. Limewire and iPod playlists mix genres and styles, shuffling downloads at random so that nothing has historical context. Everything exists simultaneously, old and new. We pride ourselves on our ability to suck it all in, without mediation. A reggae version of Baby, I Love Your Way is followed by a technofied resurrection of American Pie by Madonna. Neither song asks for or demands any knowledge of its antecedent; they’re just cash-in remakes. But isn’t it more interesting to note that the former is a remake of a song by (John Mayer predecessor) Peter Frampton, and that the latter is based on Don McLean’s 10-minute opus about Buddy Holly? No? Well, then you’re missing out on a lot of history.
With our shuffled playlist lifestyle, everything gets tossed into the cultural washer/dryer, losing all grounding and context. There’s no history. No sense of tradition.
This wouldn’t matter much if pop culture were actually getting any better. But it’s not. We’ve sucked up so many past decades in our efforts to go retro that there’s literally nothing left to suck. Note the lame remakes mentioned above. Notice that movie sequels are the safe bet that keeps the Hollywood wheels churning, not independent scripts or films. Notice that hits from the ‘60s, 70s and ‘80s tend to get re-recorded and re-packaged in endless movie soundtracks. That’s because the music was better.
Movies were better, too, as was literature in general. This is not just crankiness talking. It’s just true.
And while we’re at it, cartoons were also better. I’ve only watched an episode or two of SpongeBob SquarePants, and I confess to not laughing much. Realizing that the show is aimed at tickling our idiot funnybone, and that one is supposed to laugh because of the moronic aesthetic at hand, I still find it to be a pale imitation of the brilliant and uniquely bizarre Ren & Stimpy (still shown in nightly reruns on Cartoon Network). Debuting in 1993, Ren & Stimpy set a standard for anarchic retro adult animation that is unlikely to be equaled, let alone surpassed. Sixties animation styles are parodied, childhood TV ads, as well as modern standards of taste. A sample episode, "Jiminy Lummox," finds Ren Hoek, the dog, embarking on a series of practical jokes, including filling a platoon of beavers with lemonade and then releasing them into a lake, so that they relieve themselves, thus contaminating the local water supply. His gags go noticed by pal Stimpy, the cat, who offers to lend his conscience to Ren ("It’s your inner voice that tells you when you’re doing wrong"). The conscience is personified by a moronic, overweight, derby-wearing lummox, the one from the title. All references to "Jiminy Cricket" are completely intentional, and there for our viewer enjoyment. Jiminy does Ren bodily harm whenever he thinks about misbehaving – clobbering him with a large monkey wrench or dropping a Cadillac from above when Ren thinks bad thoughts. Astute viewers will also catch shades of A Clockwork Orange in this typically brilliant, twisted episode.
Meanwhile Stimpy, freed from his conscience, becomes atypically mischievous. Ren wakes in horror to find that his enshrined collection of Used Celebrity Underwear is gone – worse, Stimpy has washed it all! "Now I can’t tell Jerry Lewis’ socks from June Allison’s underwear!" wails Ren in desperation. "Why did you do it? Why?!!!???"
This is cultural mind warp at its finest, worthy of vintage David Lynch or John Waters.
SpongeBob, in comparison, borrows some of its gross-out moves from Ren & Stimpy (there are horribly detailed close-ups of abscesses, bloody-red eyeballs, butt hair) but there’s no sense of… history. Or meaning. Again, there’s no context. SpongeBob is simply a doofus. Yet his image sells more merchandise (mostly, I suspect, to adults) than Ren & Stimpy ever could. Even the title of this article snuck in a reference to SpongeBob, just to get some name recognition. Would people read it if it were simply about T.S. Eliot?
Anyway, the cultural wars are underway. The battle to preserve meaning and tradition is a difficult one. As technology paves the way for more unmediated absorption of culture, we lose a little sense of our past, and our selves, every day. When the final dust settles, we’ll know what’s worth preserving and what’s just dust in the wind. Until then, my eye is on Ren & Stimpy vs. SpongeBob.
Let the smackdown begin.
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