Disney is trying to KILL US!

              “When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are…” Admit it. You’re singing the song in your head right now. I can’t blame you, so am I. These words have been so indelibly inserted into our brains by Walt Disney and his magical company that we cannot remove them from hour childhood psyche. Their animated movies were, and still are, a touching reminder of the innocence of being a child and that magic still exists in a world full of harsh realities such as death, taxes, Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus.  Their movies were, and still are, the invitation for children to be killed in horrible and disgusting ways.

              Harsh? Well yeah, but come with me on this little journey down Disney movie memory lane, shall we? Let’s start with Bambi, the cute deer that somehow overcomes the murder of his mother by human hunters and grows up to be the Prince of the Forest. Touching story, really. But have you ever been really close to a deer? You know…with antlers and hooves? I’ve been kicked by a deer and it hurts…a lot.  And antlers? They hurt when they combine with force and are applied to genitalia.  So go ahead and approach the kindly Bambi…but bring a cup.

              While we’re talking about older Disney movies, how about Robin Hood? Remember? The one with the adorable fox that stops the antics of Prince John?  Well foxes, the true animals and not the ones on a typical cheerleading squad, are incredible susceptible to diseases including diseases that completely alter the mind to the point that they are incredibly mean, very aggressive and will snap at anything and everyone in their path…so okay, they are like a fox on a typical cheerleading squad, but regardless, foxes can be dangerous.  

              And Disney’s Dumbo? Sure, try walking up to a typical African Elephant and see what it’s reaction is. Remember the old joke about what’s the gunk between an elephant’s toes? Slow tourists.  Walt was outright asking for your precious little angel to be crushed to a pulp.  While we’re at it, how about more modern movies? Disney didn’t just declare war on your children when he was alive, no sir! This even occurs in hit movies in the more modern times.

              Lion King? I won’t even talk about a lion. If you go grabbing at a lion, you get what you deserve. But how about Rafiki? He’s the cute monkey that dances around being all philosophical and mentor-like.  But a monkey will rip your face off. Remember that it happened to a lady not too long ago. Do you want a monkey capable of facial mutilation to be holding your bundle of joy up for all the world see? No, thank you Mr. Disney person.  

              And Bears? Oh bears. Winnie the Pooh will rip your intestines out and hang you with them before eating the rest of you.  The momma from Brave? Go for a heartfelt hug with a bear and you’ll see what your spleen looks like on the outside. And speaking of Winnie the Pooh, what about Tigger? How do you spell his name? T…I…Double Grrrowl as I bounce on your chest and sever your Jugular vain…Er.

              How about the king of them all, Mickey Mouse? Two words…black plague.  Oh yes, he and his Rescuer friends along with the rats from Ratatouille had fleas on them that allowed for the greatest outbreak of sickness and death in history. Oh, Mr. Disney your heart was as cold as…a snowman.

           OR          

Okay, okay…I’ll “Let it go.”  Just be sure to tell your little bundle of joys that you need to avoid Disney Animals at all costs. They are potentially dangerous, after all…like the cheerleaders.

So keep on keeping on, folks and…

Be Good or Be Good At It!

Now THIS is Art Appreciation!

  

              For those of you who have read from the very beginning (and if you have, you need to get on heavy psychological medication), you’ll probably realize that I’m not the most refined human being on our fine rock here.  I’ve never looked at a piece of art and had it change my life, nor have I ever been brought to tears after looking at a painting of a soda can.  I had always just sort of assumed that those who did appreciate those sort of things had spent too much time at art museums or attended too many poetry readings (heard one the other day about the Easter bunny origin though…now THAT was a classic). So imagine my genuine surprise when I found myself truly moved (and not in a bowel sort of way) at a recent trip to appreciate an art form.

              My wife had been trying to get me to go see a movie with her and our daughter. I had come up with ways of avoiding it, from having stomachaches and headaches to believing I had a collapsed uterus (which as a guy, was exceptionally difficult to pull off), but finally I had run out of excuses.  She decided that we were going to go see the new Lego movie (about blocks of plastic that stack on each other, presumably). I remained quiet and simply practiced being in a vegetative state as we travelled to the theater.  I was not thrilled with the current status of things.

              My wife bought the tickets and asked me where I wanted to sit. We were still standing at the ticket counter and I began to wonder if perhaps she was a little too excited to see a movie since we were not even in the theater and she was asking where we were going to sit…Silly girl.  But of course, I was wrong. On a screen right in front of the ticket counter was now displayed a seating chart and I was asked to select my seat.  I just shrugged and pushed a series of buttons in an attempt to get some sort of video game to start.  My wife, having come to her senses, stopped me from pressing buttons and selected the seats.  I handed over my credit card and the ownership papers to my left kidney (the prices of movie theater tickets seems to have increased dramatically in ten years).  My attitude towards the situation had not changed.

              So I sell my right kidney at the concession stand in exchange for popcorn, a hotdog and drinks and we march into the movie theater. It was at that moment, ladies and gentlemen, that I fell in love with art. For we arrived at our seats and there, like seeing the image of the holy grail on a piece of toast, I collapsed and wept. The seat upon which my unworthy but was about to rest was, in fact, a recliner.  All the seats were. And a small table that moved and adjusted location depending on your every table-moving whim! I had seen my salvation…and it was good.

              The movie itself, was inconsequential.  It was some story about everything being awesome and a Lego construction worker having the hots for the same girl as Batman and a super duper sofa or something.  But the chair…oh the chair, was the single piece of architectural advancement that allowed this cynical, old, and warped-minded fool to appreciate art in all its faux leather and wooden glory.  I now am excited to go to movies…well, not driven to immediate fits of “I don’t wanna”-ness. Yes, friends, movies are art and I am now an Art-Lover! Bring on the paintings of tin cans and ugly people screaming. I will appreciate it…providing I can sit in similar chairs, maybe with cup holders and perhaps heat and a massage button. Dare I dream?

Well, off to the movies.  I heard they have a new movie about some kid who can use magic while attending some wizard school.  I wonder if he’ll…

Be Good or Be Good At It!