John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt,
his name is my name too.
Whenever we go out,
the people always shout,
there goes John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.
Na, na, na, na, na, na, na.

I find myself singing this song even after putting my son to sleep. I hum it in the shower, mutter it while I drive and sing it repeatedly to my little guy, but I'm still not tired of it.

Strange—I guess I've never appreciated the infectiousness of children's songs until now.

I guess it could be worse for people who get stuck listening to me—I could be constantly repeating “This is the song that never ends” instead.

So I've been watching and listening to a lot of Dora the Explorer recently. What started out as an attempt to learn why the adventures of a little Mexican girl and her monkey are so appealing to my neice, has also provided me with some strange observations to chew on:

• Is Dora short for Isadora or Pandora?
• Why does the backpack sound like Nathan Lane?
• Why hasn't somebody put two bullets into the back of Swiper's head?
• Who would win in a caged deathmatch, Dora or Caillou
• Why hasn't Jerry Falwell outed Boots yet?

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