As Seinfeld says his goodbyes to "Must See TV", a foul-mouthed eight year-old is crafting his take-over of the small screen. Though he may not have Jerry's comic genius, receding hair line, or outrageous salary, he's got the word "Jewish" stamped across his resume and he's ready to make it big. From flaming farts to gay pets, Kyle and his pals will push TV's boundaries just as far as they damn well please. Welcome to South Park, where alien visitors may cause you to wind up with an anal probe, and Jesus' advice show is just a phone call away. Nestled in the Colorado Rockies, South Park is home to Kyle, Kenny, Cartman, and Stan, four potty-mouthed third graders for whom the supernatural, extraordinary, unusual and insane are just part of growing up.
A backlash against political correctness, South Park is what can be called an equal opportunity offender. Between Kyle (the smart kid who's easily persuaded), Cartman (the fat kid who insists he's just "big-boned"), Stan (the leader of the group), and Kenny (the poor kid who dies in nearly every episode), everyone and everything is a target for mockery. When not ripping on each other and those who cross their paths, the rascals are forced to deal with some real-life issues like euthanasia, environmental concerns, world hunger, American gluttony, and homophobia. But on a typical day in South Park, they spend time with each other and interact with mal-adjusted adults including Mr. Garrison, their mentally unbalanced teacher who speaks through a hand puppet called Mr. Hat; Chef, (voiced by Isaac Hayes) the lovable cafeteria worker and UFO fanatic who breaks into songs with nearly pornographic lyrics at every opportunity; and their parents, each of whom is ineffective, neurotic, and warped.
Their boyhood exploits have created a national phenomenon and earned instant cult status for South Park, particularly on college campuses. With 4.5 million viewers tuning in each week, South Park is the most popular series in the history of Comedy Central, the only all-comedy cable network. South Park began in 1995 when Brian Graden, then an executive at Fox, commissioned Matt Stone, 26, and Trey Parker, 28, to create a holiday video for him to send to friends and colleagues. The two former University of Colorado film students took on the project, and used construction paper cut-outs and stop-action animation to produce "The Spirit of Christmas." Their five minute film, in which gutter-mouthed kids watch Jesus and Santa try to kill each other in a wrestling match, was passed around in Hollywood circles and ignited a buzz that made its way across the country. Before long, the word of mouth explosion landed Parker and Stone's material in a bidding war between the networks, and they signed a deal for thirteen episodes of South Park with Comedy Central.
While the third-grade characters harass each other for practically any reason at all, Kyle is the only one whose ethnic background is not only defined but is also the source of ridicule. Despite his father who wears a kippah, and his pushy mother who calls him "bubbe," Kyle is not totally in touch with his Jewishness. In fact, he's not really sure what being Jewish even means. When his friends ask him, "Aren't you Jewish Kyle?" he responds, "Yeah, I think so." And when a school counselor says, "I understand you're Jewish," he answers, "Not on purpose!" As far as Kyle knows, being a Jew is simply grounds for mockery, a trait that sets him apart from his friends. Though eight nights of presents during Hanukkah is appealing, Kyle feels particularly like an outcast during the holiday season. The South Park Christmas Special, which was the fourth highest rated cable program of the year, takes a closer look at the real-life issues he confronts as the only Jewish kid at South Park Elementary School.
Kyle's embarrassment and isolation begin when his mother raises a raucous about his role in the school Christmas play's nativity scene. Never mind the on-stage depiction of the actual birth of Jesus from between the legs of an eight year old (who is criticized for not making her labor pains sounds more believable); Kyle's mother is outraged that her son is playing Joseph of Aramatheus. "My family doesn't celebrate Christmas. We're Jewish," she shouts in front of Kyle's entire class, leaving him mortified by her embarrassing outburst. When he can't go to the mall to see Santa and he's deprived of the small pleasure of catching snowflakes on his tongue (the local cop confirms that he cannot catch "Christmas" snowflakes because he's Jewish), the loneliness becomes unbearable. He breaks into song: "It's hard to be a Jew on Christmas. My friends won't let me join in any games. And I can't sing Christmas songs or decorate a Christmas tree. . . I'm a Jew, a lonely Jew. I'd be merry, but I'm Hebrew. . ."
The bitter holiday stand-off sparked by Kyle's mother (in whose honor Cartman later sings his now-famous "big fat bitch" song) results in a town-wide effort to make Christmas non-offensive to any religious or minority group. After a p.c. crazed purge of Christmas trees (offensive to "tree hugging" environmentalists), lights (at the request of epileptics), and all Christmas symbols (for non-Christians), the mayor asks for suggestions of a new holiday icon. Kyle suggests "Mr. Hanky"‹a talking piece of pooh that he claims "comes out of the toilet every year and gives gifts to everyone with high fiber in his diet." While others can't see Mr. Hanky, there's no doubt this little creature not only exists, but also plays a crucial role in Kyle's life. Feeling terribly rejected, Kyle's toilet pal seems like his most loyal and understanding friend. "I may not have Santa," Kyle defends himself, "but I do have Mr. Hanky the Christmas pooh!" Indeed, Kyle's sole companion is animated and eager to keep him company. With timing that is not always well-planned, Mr. Hanky leaps out of the toilet with a high pitched cry, "Howdy ho!" While his own hygiene may be questionable, Mr. Hanky acknowledges that the real-life people who recognize him "smell like flowers." Wearing a festive Christmas hat, Mr. Hanky bounces from place to place, leaving his brownish mark (with a hint of green) wherever he lands.
After Kyle brings his buddy to school, where his classmates and administrators are disgusted by what they see as a an inanimate piece of "doo-doo," Kyle ends up in a mental institution. There, his straight jacket and solitude leaves him with little else to do besides sing the Dreydl song endlessly: "Dreydl, Dreydl, Dreydl. . . second verse same as the first!!" Half an hour and a stomach-ache of laughs later, the town ends up not only believing in Mr. Hanky, but they are so inspired by this sprightly piece of human excrement that they declare him the new non-denominational holiday symbol. And while the town sings the Mr. Hanky song, the boys learn that "Jewish people are okay and that Hanukkah can be cool too."
Out of the episodes that have aired so far, the Christmas Special is alone in its extensive exploration of Kyle's Jewish identity. But references to Kyle's Jewishness have been plentiful in other episodes. Most characters latch on to the fact that Kyle is Jewish; it is the trait that defines his character. Kyle is the Jewish kid in the same way that Cartman is the fat kid or Kenny is the poor kid. So when Cartman tells Kyle to "Go back to San Francisco with the rest of the Jews," the insult is as non-sensical as Kyle's response: "You idiot! There are no Jews in San Francisco." In episode 104, titled "Big Gay Al's Big Gay Boat Ride", the announcer at the football game makes offensive comments about anyone and everyone. Kyle is no exception, who scores the team¹s only touchdown while the announcer remarks, "I haven't seen a Jew run that fast since Poland, 1938."
The situations Kyle faces may be outrageous and unbelievable, yet viewers can, and do, relate to him. Ironically, an animated figure who was created out of construction paper, Elmer's and a pair of scissors, is accessible to all viewers because he's real. "I can totally sympathize with Kyle," explains Stone. "I mean I'm pretty much him." Stone not only does the voice-overs for Kyle, but he also chooses his story line, adventures, and is responsible for his personal profile. Though Stone did not grow up wearing a green cap with earflaps, he knows exactly where Kyle is coming from. "We're both reactionary, short-tempered, and impatient," Stone told New Voices. But the similarities don't stop there. Born in Houston and raising in the suburbs of Denver, Stone's mother is Jewish, his father Irish, and he, like Kyle, considers himself "ethnically Jewish, but that's about all. My mom is very Jewish," Stone told New Voices. "Not really a practicing Jew, but she's still really Jewish." His father, who is not Jewish, "is nothing like Kyle's [father]." It was his own annual experience during the holiday season that gave him the idea for the South Park Christmas Special. "On Christmas Day for my entire life I've had nothing to do." And Kyle would definitely agree with his creator that "It sucked."
With few Jewish experiences of his own to draw on, Stone's grandparents, who are from what he calls the "Old Country", are responsible for some of the Jewish content of the show. It was from them that he learned words like "bubbe," knows about some of the holidays, and can do a shtick on typical Jewish idiosyncrasies. Though neither his parents nor grandparents are as religious as Kyle's father, Stone made a conscious decision to portray him with a beard, kippah and the recognizably Jewish last name Broslofski. "It just creates more opportunity for comedy," he told New Voices. "It gives us more things to make fun of and we just think it's funny."
Parker identifies most closely with Stan, but he draws on his own experiences to create Kyle's character as well. Though he is not Jewish, Parker's upbringing provided a perspective clearly visible in the Christmas special. He was raised in the town of Conifer, located in the real county of South Park, an isolated part of Colorado that boasts the highest number of UFO sightings. "There was one Jewish person in my whole town and while the rest of us did Christmas stuff, she had to come out and do a Hanukkah song. She was totally just like the token Jewish person. I did not want to be her. Everyone pointed her out and stuff," Parker says.
Kyle's friends, too, are more than just a gang of rude, hilarious, foul-mouthed, spoiled little kids who are trapped in a confusing world. With their own individual quirks, the four were created using Stone and Parker's golden rule of socialization: "Everyone grows up with two best friends, a fat kid and a poor kid." A few exceptions aside, the co-writers and executive producers believe their theory to be universally true‹hence the origins of the four potty-mouthed characters. The two former slackers remember being eight years old and claim, "This is how we talked, and this his how we acted." Stone adds, "The show is so real. It's not a show with adults projecting what they think kids should be. Everyone's been a kid and everyone can relate." Parker laughs as he recalls, "you didn't get to pick who you hung out with. The bus stop dictated who your friends were."
With it's TV-M rating (mature audiences, may not be suitable for children under 17), and its 10 p.m. time slot, the program is clearly not intended for young viewers. But its foul language, violence, perversity, and outlandish subject matter attract all age brackets and appeal to both sexes. "We've done studies that if you put in a fart joke every ten seconds you've got a hit." Certainly, their theory has worked. One source claims that one in every two males age 18-24 tuned into the Christmas special along with one in three women. Bars across the country attract patrons for "South Park" night, kids are going crazy for the "Oh my God - they killed Kenny!" t-shirts, and a soundtrack is on its way. Parker and Stone are optimistic about the idea of a South Park feature film, but only if it is rated R so it could be as limitless as their series. The may be "living a dream," but they won't let marketers send their boys just anywhere. "They're like our children. We're very protective of them," says Parker. Stone also feels a strong connection with the gang. "I love the kids so much."
As for criticism of their offensive humor, Parker says, "We're not in the business of offending people‹we're in the business of making people laugh." Stone adds, "We've gotten lots of letters but no organizations have lobbied. My grandmother is kind of pissed off though," he laughs. One South Park addicts sums it up. "It's equally offensive to different races, religions, classes, everything. I can't get mad at the show because it's just funny. Even when I'm offended I still think it's hysterical." Besides, when all is said and done, Stone adds, "all the kids are good friends. Nobody is fat, Jewish, lonely, whatever‹they're just all friends."
Rebecca Raphael is a staff writer for New Voices.