Couch potatoes au gratin by Rupert Bottenberg, The Montreal Mirror >> 2 Skinnee Js and Dimitri From Paris prove that too much TV is good for kids The following, I kid you not, is part of a conversation between two (theoretically) adult men. An expensive, precisely timed transatlantic discussion of serious professional matters: "I've got a huge collection of plastic robots and things. I'm crazy about that kind of stuff, so I'm wondering about your collection..." "I'm doing Japanese die-casts." "Oh, yeah! You mean the little wind-up ones!" "Not too much the wind-ups... they're tin. They're older, they started in the '40s..." "Oh, so mean like Gundam and Robotech and stuff..." "Well, yeah, Gundam is just after what I'm doing, which is right between Gundam and the tins. It started in '72 and ended when plastic replaced die-cast steel because it was too dangerous for children. It ended around '85 or so. And they're based on a Japanese animation series, a bit older than Gundam and Robotech. That first series that spawned the toys, uh..." "Albator. No, not Albator..." "It was called Mazinger..." "Yeah, Mazinger. It was called Goldorak over here." "Well, Goldorak... you had that in Canada? Goldorak was the first show we had in French, and the only show, really. Other countries, like Italy, had most of these shows, but here they were judged too violent for children. But anyway, Goldorak is the last part of a trilogy that had Mazinger before it. There are not one, but many great toys of Goldorak..." The guilty parties in this display of arrested pubescence are no less than Dimitri From Paris -- world-reknowned DJ/producer and grandfather of the art of remixing in France -- and, I'm sad to say, myself. We're not alone, though. There are others who will also testify to the inaccuracy of your parents' sermons on the boob tube rotting your brain, and have exciting and productive careers to show as proof. Take one J. Guevara, now of Brooklyn, New York. The former Me Mom & Morgentaler accordionist (once known as Noah Green) now rocks the mic with "rap 'n' rock" unit 2 Skinnee Js. He too shamelessly extols the virtues of TV Guide and Toys 'R' Us. TV, it seems, has always been good to Guevara. "Remember those 'I Like the Sprite in You' ads, for different cities?" he asks. "I was in high school in Ottawa at the time, and I was in one where I was jumping around in a patch of tulips, piggybacking a girl. Everyone sells out to the Coca-Cola corporation sooner or later, I just got a head start." Likewise, 2 Skinnee J's credit an appearance on ABC's Battle of the Bands, hosted by eternal teenager Dick Clark, as a pivotal moment in their evolution. "I wasn't in the band yet," notes Guevara. "It was funny, because the first time Morgentaler played with the J's, (sax machine) John Jordan said, 'Oh, yeah! I saw these guys on Battle of the Bands, they're a kinda rap-rock band... kinda like us! You know, with hats and stuff." Oh, yeah, right. The Dr. Seuss hats... Asinine headgear aside, it seems Uncle Dick can be credited with getting the Js rolling. "We're not an overnight success band. I've been here for more than one night, and we're not huge rock stars yet. But we've got a good East Coast following, and the touring's getting better, like this crazy Sugar Ray/Everlast thing." Never to mention gigs with A Tribe Called Quest, George Clinton, the Urge and Guevara's high school heroes Fishbone. Oh, and check this out: Ya Kid K (remember "Pump Up the Jams"?) made a guest appearance on one of their tracks. Graduates of TVU In the case of 2 Skinnee Js, the educational benefits of severe cathode exposure are blatantly obvious in their reference-riddled rhymes and scientifically selected samples. "Kids from the late '60s and early '70s are often pop culture junkies," says dimestore sociologist Guevara, "so all that shit just ends up in there. Star Wars, Saturday morning cartoons, Wonder Twin powers and Scooby-Doo, video games..." "If you think about it, what we're really doing is celebrating the stuff we loved as kids. I looked around my room, and it's nothing but a temple to my childhood at this point. A lonesome Curious George animal, some action figures, a Star Wars statuette. About a year ago, I said, 'This looks like the room of a fucking teenager. I'm sick of this shit.' So I tore down all the band posters and started slowly redecorating. But all I did was buy toys. So now instead of an adolescent, it looks like the room of a six year old." The most conclusive evidence I've found, though, to support my premise that regression can be fun and profitable, lies in the career choices made by members of Guevara's band upon bailing from that wacky little merry-go-round. "We're the biggest nerd band," Guevara says sadly. "The former guitar player now sends computer technology to Third World countries, and the J I replaced now makes CD-ROMs for the Childrens' Television Workshop. He doesn't talk to us anymore, though. Man, the guy's making CDs for Sesame Street and we're too immature. I don't know..." <====