Phil Elmore: Individual Authoring Services

Animal Planet
27 June 2003

What an adorable creature!

That, of course, is the thought going through your mind every time you tune in to Animal Planet. Animal Planet is the April Fool's joke of cable television programming. It is the joy buzzer in the palm of the obnoxious friend who tells you he's got a business opportunity for you. It is the severed plastic arm of a Happy Meal action figure toy underneath your lettuce and tomato but on top of your extra cheese. It is rain after you've washed your car. It is e-mail from your boss canceling the project on which you spent all night working.

You see, the sadists at Animal Planet never met a cute, fuzzy, cuddly animal they could not show you being eaten. They lure you in with images of otters swimming on their backs, possums curling over tree limbs, groundhogs and prairie dogs standing on their hind legs like people, and a variety of benign and cute-looking rodentia capering across grass-covered fields. Then, just as you are telling yourself that you'd keep one of these creatures as a pet if you could, something eats them.

Alligators. Tigers. Snakes. Birds of prey. Steve Irwin. The specific evil beast may vary, but the result is always the same: huggable woodland creatures being greedily devoured by the less-cute, following the endless cycle of Nature in which the homely make lunch of the less so.

Why do we do this to ourselves? More specifically, why do the executives at Animal Planet hate us, hate children, and hate all that is good in the world? Why do they kick puppies and pop children's carnival balloons? Why do they worship Satan? Granted, where television executives are concerned, these are rhetorical questions at best. Consider, however, how we might better channel this need to see things devoured. Rather than committing to celluloid the lunchability of adorable animals, why don't we put this television tactic to good use?

You are watching a fashion show. Bored and heroin-addicted models strut up and down the runway. Suddenly, angry pumas charge in, mauling them and devouring their emaciated frames. Sequins fly everywhere. Shrill cries fill the air. You smile and make yourself more comfortable on the couch.

Colin Quinn, television's least funny male, delivers another joke with his usual lack of timing and delivery. Suddenly, several million Army Ants swarm over his body, stripping the flesh from his bones as he screams in agony. You make sure to record the episode so you can watch it again and again.

The staffs of 60 Minutes and 20/20 are maimed by enraged orangutans. Dan Rather, Tom Brokaw, and Peter Jennings are swallowed by large constricting snakes. Carrot Top falls into a pit of angry piranha. Steve Irwin pokes Mike Tyson with a stick until Tyson crushes Irwin's head and is gunned down by his shotgun-toting handlers.

The possibilities are endless.