Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: THURSDAY, May 10, 1990                   TAG: 9005090293
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: E-1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: Ben Beagle
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

WHERE IS SNOW WHITE NOW THAT WE NEED HER

If I had invented these turtles, I would now be making big bucks on movies, socks, underwear, sandals, belts and maybe even diapers.

They are big stuff.

I tell you now, boys, that the day will come when small boys will have Ninja Turtle tattoos on their chests.

There are some things about these turtles - very violent suckers at times - that make me fear for the younger generation.

They live in a sewer, for example. With an educated rat.

(What are you going to do when your kid starts bugging you for a Ninja Turtle hat shaped like a manhole cover?)

There is this strange-looking villain, whose name escapes me, and there is a girl reporter in there somewhere.

She may be named Buffy, but I don't think so. Except for keeping company with these turtles and that rat, she appears normal.

You have to ask yourself about the symbolism that goes with four turtles that live in a sewer and say things like "Cowabunga," which I understand to be a California expression.

They are named for Italian Renaissance artists, for Pete's sake.

The heroes of my generation were clear-eyed cowboys who rode the unpolluted plains and had names like Buck and Ken and Hoot and Red.

They did not appear on underwear or socks and they would have drawn down on anybody who said "Cowabunga."

These guys slept under the stars, not in a sewer.

Nevertheless, I have tried to learn a lot about these turtles because I have this grandson who wants to go into Ninja Turtle basic training when he gets old enough to sign up.

But I can't keep them straight in my mind.

I have never been very big on Italian artists.

The other day he showed me his genuine Ninja Turtle belt.

"Aha, That's old Rembrandt on there, right?" I said, which is not to suggest I am very big on Dutch artists either.

"Naw," the kid said, rolling his eyes at raw ignorance. "That's Donatello."

"Oh, right," I said. "And the one on your socks is Matisse, right?"

"Naw," the kid said, "That's Michaelangelo."

Where are Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs now that we need them?

Snow White was an airheaded simp when it came to apples, but she didn't endorse underwear or live in a sewer.