I have always been a person possessed by irrational fear. Even in these trying times of "constant" terrorist threat and international conflict, nothing sends shivers down my spine like thoughts of an alien abduction or an overwhelming army of zombies.

But as a child, my fears manifested themselves in three fairly harmless entertainment icons: gap-toothed Mad Magazine cover boy Alfred E. Neuman, the Kool-Aid Man and Pee-wee Herman.

The first two are easy enough to understand: There's something intangibly creepy about Alfred E. Neuman's smile, and there are few things scarier than a giant pitcher of red liquid crashing through the walls of your home (I love Dane Cook, but will never forgive him for making a joke out of this fear before I could).

As for Pee-wee, I could never put my finger on what bothered me about him. All I can remember is that in the classic CBS Saturday morning lineup, "Pee-wee's Playhouse" came on right after "Muppet Babies," and as soon as Animal gave his "Go bye-bye" send-off, I would run at the television as fast as my 4-year-old legs could carry me to change the channel before the Claymation "Pee-wee's Playhouse" intro began (odd, because I loved and still do love Claymation).

Eventually, I learned to stop worrying and love the bombs dropped by my childhood nightmares. After all, what's more rife for ironic appreciation than the Kool-Aid Man? So when the short-lived Fox Family channel started airing "Pee-wee's Playhouse" reruns, I was intrigued. I tuned in daily, and now consider letting "Pee-wee's Playhouse" slip through my tiny little fingers to be one of the greatest blunders of childhood.

Fox Family soon morphed into ABC Family, and while the channel does allow for daily doses of "Gilmore Girls," it forced Pee-wee to ride his magical scooter off into the horizon, only to be seen on inordinately expensive DVD sets.

Enter Adult Swim, a concept I've been on board with since the inception of "Space Ghost: Coast to Coast." Just as it had resuscitated cartoons killed off by the major networks because they didn't deliver "South Park"-like ratings ("Home Movies" and "Mission Hill," anyone?), the late-night animation block has re-opened the Playhouse, and not a moment too soon.

Within the last couple of years, Adult Swim's original programming has taken a turn for the darker. Its formerly madcap-but-a-tad-dirty aesthetic has gone full-on cynical. That's not a bad thing in small doses, but with "Moral Orel," "Robot Chicken" and "Tom Goes to the Mayor" skewering the soul-crushing reality of adult life and "Minoriteam" doing the racial humor that "The Boondocks" handles far more adeptly, there's a need for something a little fluffier. Sillier. Zanier. With more puppets.

Adult Swim and its viewers need "Pee-wee's Playhouse." If my childhood experience with the show means anything, it's that this show never really functioned well as children's programming. Being slightly twisted and completely off-kilter, it fits Adult Swim just like that gray suit and bow tie fits its titular man-child.

There's so much about the show to be appreciated as an almost-adult, the least of which are the performances by Laurence "don't call me Larry" Fishburne and the late Phil Hartman. Morpheus with a Jeri Curl hairstyle and gaudy cowboy suit? Hilarious. Not to mention that Hartman's Captain Carl is clearly a predecessor to Mr. Krabs on "SpongeBob SquarePants," the inheritor of Pee-wee's not-quite-a-kid's-show throne.

"Pee-wee's Playhouse" always had a slight educational and self-esteem bend to it, but the greatest lesson it ever taught was to never take yourself too seriously. Pee-wee sure didn't. Here was a grown man with a crew cut, parading around a trippy playhouse where he interacted with talking furniture and a robot with a typewriter for a head, screaming really loudly when anyone said the secret word. Watch the reruns on Adult Swim, then work the secret word into your next 24 hours. Everyone around you will be annoyed, but I bet you'll feel great.

I'm not going to get into the arrest thing. On "Pee-wee's Playhouse," Pee-wee was credited as himself. The man arrested for flogging the dolphin in a XXX theater was Paul Reubens — totally different guy. I'm looking at the mug shot right now, and that doesn't even look like Pee-wee. The Sarasota County Sheriff must have picked up a hobo or something.

While watching Adult Swim the other night, I witnessed Moral Orel develop a drinking problem, then saw hopelessly inept mayor's pawn Tom Peters go to hell, just for being a hopelessly inept mayor's pawn.

All the while, I longed to watch a character who loved fruit salad so much, he did in fact marry it.

Do I want to avoid laughing at actual problems? Maybe. Or maybe it's just that at this point in my life, I am neither man, nor child.

Like Pee-wee, I'm stuck in between the two.

Now who's willing to sell me the land to build my playhouse on?

Erik Adams is a State News general entertainment reporter, reach him at adamser9@msu.edu.