I own a copy of this poster, framed, and signed by Kirs Kristofferson, Ernest Borgnine, and C.W. McCall. I am very proud of this.

On my bookshelf, there’s an old VHS tape with a faded, hand-written label. It says, “Convoy, 1st Gen.” This is because in 2000, when I tracked down and rented a copy of the 1978 Sam Peckinpah movie, after years of searching, I was so excited that I made two copies of it. Then I made another six copies off of those two copies, and gave them away to friends. (I am blessed with the sort of friends for whom a bootleg copy of Convoy is a great gift.) Anyway, the “1st Gen” on the copy I’m looking at indicates that this one was dubbed right from the original. I’ve lugged it from apartment to apartment over the last ten years, even though I haven’t always had access to a VCR.

But I probably won’t ever watch it again. If I wanted to see Convoy now (and I kind of do, after writing the last paragraph), I could just put it on the top of my Netflix queue. They’d send me a nice new DVD that would look ten times better than my old videotape. Actually, I don’t even have to wait for the DVD. Convoy is currently a “Watch It Now” movie on Netflix, so I can stream it right to my computer. Or I can use my XBox to watch it on my TV. And if I wanted to buy it, the DVD is $13 via Amazon.

This is simultaneously awesome, and a teeny bit sad.

It’s easy to forget that only 15 years ago, finding a movie was a very different experience.

Here were your options:

• You went to Blockbuster. If they didn’t have the movie you wanted, too bad.
• You went to Suncoast, Tower Records, or another then-thriving-now-bankrupt movie store. If they didn’t have what you wanted, maybe they could order it for you. But probably not.

Internet killed the video store.

And that’s it. I know this seems unthinkable to those of you under 20, but as recently as the late 90s you only had access to the movies you could drive and pick up. In those dark days, a well-stocked video store was a geek’s best friend. I will always have a deep fondness for Best Video, located in Hamden, CT. At Best Video, you stand little chance of finding anything without one of the clerks to help you. For instance, the Comedy section is divided into “Comedy” and “Best Comedy.” But there are also comedies in “Best of the Best,” and certain directors have their own shelves. I preferred to wander aimlessly, discovering movies I had never heard of but couldn’t wait to see. There were days when I’d rent ten tapes, watch five of them, and dub the other five to watch later. I was a kid in a candy store.

My favorite find there was a horror movie from the Philippines, called The Killing of Satan. The cover asked one of my favorite questions of all time: “What power should a man possess to challenge the Prince of Darkness?” It’s the word “should” that really makes it work for me.

He's gonna need a sturdier shirt.

Back in its heyday, Best Video would rent movies by mail as well. You could literally have them mail you a single VHS tape, which you’d watch and mail back in a week. Geeks all over the country happily took advantage of this. In the days when watching anything more bandwidth-intensive than the Hampster Dance seemed impossible, Best Video was the only way to see some of these rare imports and limited editions. The video store is still around, but they’ve shut down the mail order rental business. Between eBay, Amazon, iTunes, Netflix, and BitTorrent, almost anything ever made can be yours to watch, in days if not instantly, at little cost. For instance, The Killing of Satan can be had for under $10.

Once again, let me make it clear that this is a good thing. I love movies, and I love having them at my fingertips. But something has been lost. Part of being a movie geek is priding yourself on seeing the obscure stuff that lesser geeks and mere mortals don’t bother with. This used to be challenging. Today, a movie can have cult status because only a small group of people like it… but not because only a small group of people have access. Finding the movies is never a challenge (finding the time to watch them is another story).

But what I really miss is the sense of community. Back in the day, the best way to expand your movie-going horizons was to find friends with the same passion, and borrow, trade, and share each other’s collections. There’s even an episode of The Simpsons where Bart and Milhouse discover Comic Book Guy’s secret room of bootleg videotapes, and make serious money by charging admission to screenings. I have totally been to parties like that. The episode aired in 2001. Less than five years later, it was completely obsolete. Nowadays, Comic Book Guy’s random clips wouldn’t be on VHS tapes--they’d be all over YouTube. And the people of Springfield would watch them at home, alone.

In 1999, I got a copy of Peter Jackson’s Meet the Feebles off of eBay. This is a spoof of the Muppets that he made at the tender age of 28. An early scene features a puppet cat performing oral sex on a puppet walrus. The whole thing is very funny and strange and wonderful. When it arrived in the mail, I watched it with 20 people, and again the next week with 20 other people. Now, you can see the whole thing on YouTube:

Cartoon All-Stars To The Rescue is a half-hour special produced in 1993, in which a dream team of Saturday morning cartoon characters join forces to help a teen give up drugs. My favorite part is when Alf threatens to eat Garfield. When I got a copy of that one, I had to reserve my dorm’s common room for a giant screening. Once again, it’s on YouTube now:

And then there’s the Star Wars Holiday Special. This was George Lucas’ fantastically ill-advised 1978 variety show, in which Harrison Ford tries to get Chewbacca home to his family in time for “Life Day.” The most jaw-dropping of many painful moments is probably Bea Arthur, singing a song in the Mos Eisley cantina. The Special was aired exactly once, and (unsurprisingly) never released on VHS. For years, it was a kind of geek legend. No one I knew had ever seen it, but everyone had heard stories from friends of friends. “One day,” us young geeks told each other, “we will get our hands on a copy of that!”

And now, it’s on YouTube:

This all applies to more than movies. When I was a kid, my brother was a giant Phish fan. And any real Phish fan knows their commercial CDs aren’t where the special sauce is--you need to listen to live performances, where they could spend 45 minutes playing one song.

Because you can never have too many versions of Golgi Apparatus.

So Danny would hit up the tape trading websites. While he was doing his homework, he’d be running off dubs of his collection, to exchange with fellow Phishermen. And when a new tape arrived in the mail, he’d put aside whatever he was doing, run into his room, and emerge two hours later humming meandering guitar riffs to himself. He even had a special rack for storing his carefully organized Phish bootlegs.

Nowadays, you can get all your concert recordings online, no communication with other human beings required. TapeTrading.com is actually for sale. I doubt anyone will buy it.

Overnight, we’ve come to expect any movie ever made to be available at the click of a button, and we usually get our wish. It’s an amazing embarrassment of riches. But when entertainment flows as freely as water from a faucet, we start to take it for granted. We don’t get the pleasure of seeking it out, and we don’t bother sharing it with friends. Part of the fun of watching obscure movies used to be the thrill of finding something rare… but in the Internet Age, no movie is rare. And like I said before, that’s a good thing that makes me a little sad.

[Update: We took up the question of what makes a movie a "cult" movie on a recent episode of the Overthinking It Podcast [iTunes link]. Download Episode 89: Wang-Free Zone. —Ed.]

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Anyone with a sixth grade education should probably already know who Joseph Campbell is. An American mythologist, anthropologist, and author, Campbell was the first to define the perameters of the “Hero’s Journey“, a basic plot outline that most epic tales passed down through history follow. If you are not yet familiar with the “Hero’s Journey”, do not despair. This post will educate you.

The “Hero’s Journey” is a well-accepted phenomenon, an equation that applies to such disparate tales as The Epic of Gilgamesh, Star Wars, Conan The Barbarian, and… a cat food commercial?

Indeed. And not just an example. One of the BEST examples.

Trippy, yes, but adhering to the standards of the Hero’s Journey? Absolutely. Allow me to elaborate:
We will start with the first phase of Campbell’s mythical Journey:

PHASE 1 -- DEPARTURE

1) The Call to Adventure: The point in a person’s life when they are first given notice that everything is going to change, whether they know it or not.

The Cat/Protagonist (from here on out to be known simply as “Kitty”) approaches the can of Friskies, unaware of the powers it possesses. A journey of epic proportions is in Kitty’s near future, although the hero remains ignorant of its approach.

2) Refusal of the Call: Often when the call is given, the future hero refuses to heed it. This may be from a sense of duty or obligation, fear, insecurity, a sense of inadequacy, or any of a range of reasons that work to hold the person in his or her current circumstances.

The refusal is exemplified here by Kitty’s brief hesitation and confusion when encountering the next step of the journey. (Bear in mind this is only a 60-second commercial.)

3) Supernatural Aid: Once the hero has committed to the quest, consciously or unconsciously, his or her guide and magical helper appears, or becomes known.

The swirling neon colors that emerge from the can of food act as Kitty’s “Supernatural Helper”, guiding him (I will ascribe a male gender role to the feline, although one is not specifically designated in the subject matter) toward the “Threshold”. Kitty is confused (as mentioned in the last step), but also enchanted.

4) The Crossing of the First Threshold: This is the point where the person actually crosses into the field of adventure, leaving the known limits of his or her world and venturing into an unknown and dangerous realm where the rules and limits are not known.

Crossing the First Threshold

5) The Belly of the Whale: This represents the final separation from the hero’s known world and self. It is sometimes described as the person’s lowest point, but it is actually the point when the person is transitioning between worlds and selves. The separation has been made—or is being made or being fully recognized—between the old world and old self and the potential for a new world and self. The experiences that will shape the new world and self will begin shortly, or may be beginning with this experience which is often symbolized by something dark, unknown and frightening. By entering this stage, the person shows their willingness to undergo a metamorphosis, to die to him or herself.

“The Belly of the Whale”, for Kitty, is the first phase of his voyage, when he finds himself confronted by a large group of computer-generated turkey-things. This is a world like Kitty has never seen before, a place where fowl dance in unison and nothing is what it seems. It is a dark time — the portal back to Kitty’s old life has disappeared, and he has no choice but to carry on. The true Journey is at hand.

PHASE 2 -- INITIATION

1) The Road of Trials: The road of trials is a series of tests, tasks, or ordeals that the person must undergo to begin the transformation. Often the person fails one or more of these tests, which often occur in threes.

Kitty walks along a path, passing through a tunnel as a symbolic “birth” into his adventure. And remember that part about the “tests that come in threes”. We will get back to that soon.

2) The Meeting with the Goddess: The meeting with the goddess represents the point in the adventure when the person experiences a love that has the power and significance of the all-powerful, all encompassing, unconditional love that a fortunate infant may experience with his or her mother. It is also known as the “hieros gamos”, or sacred marriage, the union of opposites, and may take place entirely within the person. In other words, the person begins to see him or herself in a non-dualistic way. This is a very important step in the process and is often represented by the person finding the other person that he or she loves most completely. Although Campbell symbolizes this step as a meeting with a goddess, unconditional love or self-unification does not have to be represented by a woman.

The “Goddess” here is the pink butterfly carrying the Friskies banner. This is an advertisement, after all, so it is only fair that Friskies assert itself as the “Holy Grail” in this particular tale (another theme we will discuss in further detail later). It is undeniable that a pink butterfly carries a definite “femininity” to its aesthetic, and judging by Kitty’s fascination, her effect upon him is indeed magical. Kitty’s non-dualistic view of “Self” is confirmed.

3) Woman as the Temptress: At one level, this step is about those temptations that may lead the hero to abandon or stray from his or her quest, which as with the Meeting with the Goddess does not necessarily have to be represented by a woman. For Campbell, however, this step is about the revulsion that the usually male hero may feel about his own fleshy/earthy nature, and the subsequent attachment or projection of that revulsion to women. Woman is a metaphor for the physical or material temptations of life, since the hero-knight was often tempted by lust from his spiritual journey.

This step is symbolized by Kitty’s confrontation of the Abyss. The first in Kitty’s “three tests”, his hesitant approach to the gaping emptiness represents doubt about his own disassociation from self. Conquering the Abyss presents itself as Kitty’s first major hurdle. Consider the objects on its periphery: Feminine, milk-giving cows spot the fields in his immediate vicinity, while phallic, jutting windmills float far away on the horizon. Subtle hints at sexuality abound in this scene of fear and adversity.

4) Atonement with the Father: In this step the hero must confront and be initiated by whatever holds the ultimate power in his or her life. In many myths and stories this is the father, or a father figure who has power over life and death. This is the center point of the journey. All the previous steps have been moving in to this place, all that follow will move out from it. Although this step is most frequently symbolized by an encounter with a male entity, it does not have to be a male; just someone or thing with incredible power. For the transformation to take place, the person as he or she has been must be “killed” so that the new self can come into being. Sometime this killing is literal, and the earthly journey for that character is either over or moves into a different realm.

Water: Something with incredible power.

We all know that cats are afraid of water. And what else has “life and death giving” power like water? We drink to live; we drown. Life is given, life is taken. When Kitty boards his vessel, he begins the second of his “tests”, confrontation and atonement with his proverbial “father”, the sea. Need I even call attention to the phallic symbols present?

Consider the scene in The Empire Strikes Back where Luke, in a hallucinatory state, beheads Darth Vader with a light saber, only to find his OWN FACE within Vader’s smoking, shattered helmet. Now observe the manner in which Kitty beholds his own reflection in the water.

His second test completed, Kitty ventures onward to the third.

5) Apotheosis: To apotheosize is to deify. When someone dies a physical death, or dies to the self to live in spirit, he or she moves beyond the pairs of opposites to a state of divine knowledge, love, compassion and bliss. This is a god-like state: the person is in heaven and beyond all strife. A more mundane way of looking at this step is that it is a period of rest, peace and fulfillment before the hero begins the return.

6) The Ultimate Boon: The ultimate boon is the achievement of the goal of the quest. It is what the person went on the journey to get. All the previous steps serve to prepare and purify the person for this step, since in many myths the boon is something transcendent like the elixir of life itself, or a plant that supplies immortality, or the holy grail.

Behold the “Holy Grail” (or “boon”) in all its glory. Kitty has ascended to godhood and possesses not a care in the world. But his dish of Friskies lies back in his own world. The irony is almost palpable.

PHASE THREE -- RETURN

1) Refusal of the Return: So why, when all has been achieved, the ambrosia has been drunk, and we have conversed with the gods, why come back to normal life with all its cares and woes?

2) The Magic Flight: Sometimes the hero must escape with the boon, if it is something that the gods have been jealously guarding. It can be just as adventurous and dangerous returning from the journey as it was to go on it.

The reappearance of the magical “Threshold” that brought Kitty into this realm has returned, signalling a completion of the story cycle. In a symbolic “Heaven”, surrounded by jubilant “gods”, Kitty must now face the final “test”: Abandon godhood in further pursuit of the Grail? A return to the mundane feline existence of pre-Journey life? The “boon” beckons…

3) Rescue from Without: Just as the hero may need guides and assistants to set out on the quest, often times he or she must have powerful guides and rescuers to bring them back to everyday life, especially if the person has been wounded or weakened by the experience. Or perhaps the person doesn’t realize that it is time to return, that they can return, or that others need their boon.

Heeding the call of domestic life (but also of the Grail), Kitty approaches the portal to return home. Could it be that Campbell’s “powerful guides and rescuers” are the nameless, invisible “owners” who provide Kitty with the “boon” (Friskies cat food)?

4) The Crossing of the Return Threshold: The trick in returning is to retain the wisdom gained on the quest, to integrate that wisdom into a human life, and then maybe figure out how to share the wisdom with the rest of the world. This is usually extremely difficult.

5) Master of the Two Worlds: In myth, this step is usually represented by a transcendental hero like Jesus or Buddha. For a human hero, it may mean achieving a balance between the material and spiritual. The person has become comfortable and competent in both the inner and outer worlds.

Kitty has proved himself a master of both the “inner” (domestic) and “outer” (fantasy) worlds. Finally, he is allowed to partake of the “Holy Grail” (delicious, Friskies brand cat food). All is well as the curtain falls on the Kitty Epic.

6) Freedom to Live: Mastery leads to freedom from the fear of death, which is the freedom to live. This is sometimes referred to as living in the moment, neither anticipating the future nor regretting the past.

As the camera pans back, we are shown an entire planet, living in peace and harmony under the Friskies banner. The implication is obvious: There is a little Kitty in all of us, and by knowing his story, we too can live in freedom of fear for pain and death. Friskies offers freedom to all, a magical ambrosia releasing all manner of species from the constraints of self-imposed imprisonment. Courage conquers all, and Love can be found in a can.

Author’s Note: My sincere gratitude goes out to Sergeant D at Stuff You Will Hate for calling my attention to this Friskies ad in the first place. (Not that I actually read that blog.)

Shelby Cobras is the sole creator and mastermind behind the brilliantly mundane blog Illogical Contraption. Unfortunately, his cat can’t eat Friskies. It makes her fart.

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So what did I do this past week?  Well, I had a pretty good sandwich… yeah.  Okay, sandwiches.  Let’s overthink this thing.

As a general rule, food requires either quality ingredients, skilled preparation, or both.  Pulled pork barbecue and chili are way up in the top left corner because, while they both take a fair amount of skill to do well, the quality of the ingredients doesn’t matter at all.  Barbecue is quite literally a cooking technique developed in order to compensate for having terrible cuts of meat.  Have you ever seen an uncooked brisket?  It’s basically a wad of fat and gristle.  Unlocking that delicious meaty lockbox takes time, energy, and no small degree of skill.

Sashimi, on the other hand, is way out there on the lower right.  Quality of ingredients – by which I mean essentially freshness of fish – is all-important.  Not only does it determine whether it tastes good, it determines whether or not it will kill you.  But as for preparation… look, this is raw fish.  It’s not going to get any rawer.  There is a very real sense in which it has not, actually, been prepared.  Now, this doesn’t mean that the people who make it aren’t talented.  It’s one of the most elaborately presented foods in the world, and carving fish into perfect gem-like slabs is tricky business. And sushi — the difference, as I’m sure you know, is that sushi is presented on a little lozenge of rice with a thin film of wasabi paste, while sashimi is just a stack of fish slabs — is basically the Japanese equivalent of a sandwich, which we’ll be getting to later on.   But when it comes to sashimi, they are not so much chefs as sculptors whose medium is food.  The only food where preparation matters less is the apple, where the recipe consists of

1:  Open mouth
2:  Insert apple
3:  Not the whole apple, you jackass

Coffee is in the top middle.  The ingredients do matter here, some, but not nearly as much as the preparation.  It’s very easy to take some high-end small-batch free-trade shade-grown hand-roasted Ethiopia Harrar, and turn it into something that tastes like cat piss by messing up the brewing process.  Its opposite number is breakfast cereal.  This is all but impossible to screw up:  your culinary experience is determined entirely by which brand of cereal you buy… but quality of ingredients is only going to take you so far.  The most expensive cereal in the world is still going to taste like cereal, so you might be better off sticking to the Cinammon Toast Crunch, or even the Pathmark-brand knockoff thereof.  Ingredients still matter some, though… shredded wheat is pretty gross.

The lowly hotdog sits in the bottom left corner.  Now I’m no snob:  I’ll eat hotdogs and I like them.  But I have no illusions about the kind of “meat” that goes into the things.  Could you create a sort of uber-hotdog, that used no fillers and only the finest grass-raised beef?  Well you could… but it would not be a hotdog.  It would be a sausage.  The hotdog is not a distinct culinary category:  it is shorthand for the cheapest sausage available, cooked in the laziest way available. Marshmellows could go down here too.  Anything you toast on a stick over a campfire.

In the top right, on the other hand, we have eggs benedict.  To make these, you first need to make poached eggs and hollandaise sauce, and there are dozens of ways to ruin either of those.  But the quality of your english muffin, your canadian bacon, and even the egg itself is going to depend heavily on how deep your pockets are.  Which is why this foodstuff is basically never seen outside of brunch restaurants.

And finally, we have the sandwich, the origin point, the one food in which ingredients and skill are perfectly balanced.

But this is actually a radical claim.  Many people don’t think of sandwiches as taking skill at all:  you just slap some stuff between two pieces of bread and eat it, right?  Wrong.

The atrocity at left is the “Bacon Whoopee,” available at the Carnegie Deli for a mere $22.  As a bacon-delivery vector, this is superlative.  As a sandwich, it is completely incompetent.  A properly calibrated sandwich is all about balance.  It is an exquisitely tuned chord.  Allow any one element to overwhelm the others, and the sandwich is ruined.  Ruined!  You need to be able to taste every component.  At the Carnegie Deli, this is not going to happen.  This is also the problem with the sandwiches at Subway.  It doesn’t really matter what you order at subway:  they basically all taste like the bread, with a little crunchiness from the lettuce.  (This is why when I have to eat at Subway, I just get the vegetarian sub.  It tastes the same, and it’s cheaper.)

And yet these two options – giant overpowering stack of meat; giant, flabby, overpowering bread – seem to be the dominant paradigm in modern sandwich making.  So here, as a public service, I present Stokes Sandwich Algorithm.  I don’t pretend that it’s a perfect formula, but it’s better than a hell of a lot of the stuff out there.  And I think it’s proof that anything – even a sandwich – can be overthought.

Cheese:  the trick here is that the slices should be very, very thin, and no more than two layers.  The flavor won’t come out right otherwise.  If you want more cheese, don’t put the layers next to eachother.  I list cheese first because it’s  the sandwich’s limiting factor.  You can’t use too much cheese, and none of the other elements can overwhelm the cheese. Of course, if you’re not putting cheese in your sandwich, the rest of this formula is basically useless.  Sorry about that

Meat:  About two to three times the size (by thickness) of your cheese layer.  Thin slices are important here too:  this is the one thing that the standard deli sandwich gets right.  But it’s not so much because of the flavor.  It’s because a thick slice of meat is hard to bite through.  You run the risk of dragging the whole slice of meat out of the sandwich, all slimy and covered with mayonnaise, and at that point the aesthetic experience is more or less ruined.  If you can’t cut the slices thin, you’ll want to cut them lengthwise as well.  (Incidentally, this is the way that chicken salad works.)

Lettuce, Tomatoes, Pickles, Cucumbers, and the like:  What exact kind of vegetables you want to use is up to you.  The combined layer, though, should be exactly the same size as the meat layer.  Obviously if you’re using something very strongly flavored – pickles, hot peppers, raw onion – you want to use less.  One slice of cheddar, three slices of roast beef, and a single near-translucent slice of red onion makes for a very fine sandwich indeed.

Condiments:  Again, less than you think.  Nothing is more revolting than taking a bite of the sandwich and winding up with a big blob of mayonnaise in your mouth, unless it’s biting into a sandwich and having mayonnaise squirt out the sides and all over your hands.  Spread thin, using just enough to moisten the surface of both slices of bread, and let it go.  Grinding a some fresh black pepper onto the bread after you apply the condiments is often a nice touch.

Bread:  must be firm enough to hold the sandwich together, must not be so coarse as to scratch the roof of your mouth.  The two slices, together, should be about the same thickness as the meat layer, or slightly thicker.

Now, this is the formula that works for me.  Your results may vary.  But use this as your starting point.  Then maybe the next time you make a sandwich, use a little more meat.  Use a little less cheese.  Use a little less mayonnaise (but not more, because that squirting out the sides of the sandwich thing is really, really gross).  And once you’ve arrived at your own platonic sandwich ideal, remember what it is.  Do it that way every time from now on.  Life is short.  And the people reading this website (not to mention writing for it) are wasting too much time already to waste any more eating imperfectly balanced sandwiches.

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Throughout history, enterprising men and woman have taken advantage of tragedy and despair to turn a quick denarius, pound, shilling and dollar. When tragedy struck, vendors of every age pulled out their screens, dusted off a few patriotic slogans and started printing t-shirts. And for some reason there were eagles on them.

The art of patriotic eagle t-shirt printing began in the last years of the Roman Republic, when vendors near the Capitol set up their tents and started selling black and white SPQR caps and these fashionable tunics.

More shirts through the ages after the jump.

After the fall of the western Roman empire, t-shirt printing was preserved only in Irish monasteries throughout most of the dark ages. A Celtic monk would work for years to illuminate a single patriotic t-shirt, but they imparted their wisdom to a number of royal ladies to commemorate and commercialize the Norman invasion. These ladies embroidered the famous Bayoux T-shirt.

Remember, remember!
The fifth of November,
The Gunpowder treason and plot;
I know of no reason
Why the Gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!

King James I brought back the old traditions of screen printing to celebrate the execution of Guy Fawkes, who had utterly failed to blow up Parliament. The newly established East India T-Shirt Company established a triangle trade: American cotton was traded for printed t-shirts in London, which were traded for cheap pirate memorabilia in the Carribean, which was then traded for more cheap American cotton.

The British monarchy soon had reason to regret its promotion of the t-shirt trade. When British soldiers opened fire on American civilians in Boston, Paul Revere and his associate Tom Paine created a new and incredibly popular line of Common Sense t-shirts that helped finance the American Revolution.

In the late 20th century, t-shirt popularity exploded, creating a market for patriotic eagle t-shirts that would remind consumers of somewhat less significant things.

Never forget? Already forgotten? Sound off in the comments.

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One of OTI’s favorite Perfect Gentlemen, Wyclef Jean, is already on his way to Haiti through the Dominican Republic (probably there by the time you read this) to help out people on the ground. His foundation for Haiti, Yele, is one of the many organizations gathering donations to help with relief efforts. OTI knows you can find any number of other organizations doing good work, but there’s little substitute for having the people who sound the call be people like to listen to. So, whether you give to Wyclef’s foundation or to somebody else, listen to Wyclef, and do something—however you figure out how to do it—to help these folks.

Wyclef is also soliciting donations to his foundation, which looks like it is refocused now on earthquake relief through his twitter feed. (I’m not going to recommend those text to donate things because I don’t have confidence in them; but if you do, sound off in the comments.)

Here’s Wyclef on Anderson Cooper 360. An interesting cultural moment:

And here’s a repost of Wyclef’s message from www.yele.org.

STATEMENT BY WYCLEF JEAN ON HAITI EARTHQUAKE

Wednesday, January 13, 2010 at 02:05PM

“Haiti today faced a natural disaster of unprecedented proportion, an earthquake unlike anything the country has ever experienced.

The magnitude 7.0 earthquake – and several very strong aftershocks – struck only 10 miles from Port-au-Prince.

I cannot stress enough what a human disaster this is, and idle hands will only make this tragedy worse. The over 2 million people in Port-au-Prince tonight face catastrophe alone. We must act now.

President Obama has already said that the U.S. stands ‘ready to assist’ the Haitian people. The U.S. Military is the only group trained and prepared to offer that assistance immediately. They must do so as soon as possible. The international community must also rise to the occasion and help the Haitian people in every way possible.”

Many people have already reached out to see what they can do right now. We are asking those interested to please do one of two things: Either you can use your cell phone to text “Yele” to 501501, which will automatically donate $5 to the Yele Haiti Earthquake Fund (it will be charged to your cell phone bill), or you can click here to DONATE.

Thank you,
Wyclef

The regular Yele Haiti website will resume in a couple of weeks. In the meantime our focus is on providing real-time information about the situation in Haiti.

Oh, and one more note from OTI — if you think there’s any reason why you shouldn’t do what you can to find some effective way to lend a hand or a dollar in Haiti, well, Wyclef has this much to say about whatever stands in your way (out of context, of course):

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For the first time in years, I was safe from the living dead.

This is like Hometown Buffet for the living dead.

You see, I live in Manhattan. New York has many things going for it–world-class museums, vibrant nightlife, and a subway system that you are legally allowed to pee in (I’m pretty sure). But one major disadvantage to living here is that I will most likely be devoured by flesh-eating zombies.

Think about it. All pandemics hit the major urban areas first and hardest. That was true even in the days of the Decameron, in which the frame story involves young Florentines fleeing the Bubonic Plague to a villa in the countryside. But when the zombies hit Manhattan, the odds of me getting a Metro-North ticket out of here are pretty slim. I’m probably going to end up dashing across a bridge, carrying my son and my XBox on my back, trying desperately to escape the tristate area before it becomes the DIEstate area. But I might not even get that far – in the pseudo-zombie film I Am Legend, the government quarantines Manhattan and blows up the bridges.

I could, of course, just stay put. If I lock my front door, I’m pretty sure the zombies aren’t getting in. (I live in East Harlem, where we take front doors seriously.) I’ve got plenty of canned food, and I could get plenty of clean water out of the tap before that goes kaput. I figure I could make it a month or two, no sweat. But staying put is really gambling that the government will be able to turn the tide and fight back the zombie menace, or release some sort of airborne cure, or organize some sort of massive rescue effort. And although I’m a proud Democrat, and I believe in the government’s ability to accomplish many things, I don’t have much hope that FEMA can take on a zombie horde before I run out of Easy Mac.

Actually, the zombies may never have a chance to get be. I wouldn’t be surprised if the military panicked and fire-bombed the entire city. I’ve seen Outbreak.

So living in New York, I’ve gradually come to accept my doom. The cruise ship was another story.

Should have waited an hour after eating braaaaaaains...

It is universally accepted that zombies don’t swim. I gleefully imagined the ship parked in New York harbor, with me on the deck taunting the hordes with my juicy, overthinking brain (in the fantasy, I have shaved my head for maximum taunting). I watch a seemingly endless stream of the living dead pour out of the financial district, stumble across Bowling Green, and fling themselves into the ocean, like so many decomposing lemmings. The zombies wouldn’t die underwater, but many would get tangled in the muck/industrial waste that forms the bottom of the harbor. In time, the zombies would form a massive pile at the shoreline, so that the new zombies would have to crawl over the squishy, bloated backs of the old zombies before they too rolled into the cold surf.

I suppose eventually, the zombies might potentially fill in all of New York harbor, like a writhing, moaning landfill. I can see myself standing on the Pool Deck, calmly watching their mad struggles as I sip my drink, perhaps playing an idle game of shuffleboard to pass the time. And then, finally, when the accumulated mass of a million zombies has reached the ship, so that I can hear their gray fingers clawing across my steel hull, I simply fire up the propellers and move the damn thing another hundred feet out.

Am I enjoying this fantasy too much? Is this weird?

This thing makes a Hummer look like a Volt.

But let’s get serious for a moment: there are a lot of practical problems to living on a cruise ship indefinitely. For starters, fuel. The Queen Elizabeth II probably has one of the largest tanks of any ship afloat, since it has to cross the Atlantic without running dry. According to this fact sheet, it consumes an ungodly 18.05 tons of fuel PER HOUR. One gallon will take it 49.5 feet. Amazingly, the ship holds enough gas to sail at top speed for 10 days, traveling about 7,800 miles. But after that, not only can’t the ship move anywhere, none of its mechanical systems will work. No lights. No fresh water production. No ice for the drinks, and no heat for the hot tub.

Unacceptable.

Of course, you probably wouldn’t cruise at top speed for ten days straight. You could anchor offshore, and just run the engines occasionally to make fresh water. Assuming you could pack it with nonperishable food before you cast off, you’d be set for months, if not years.

Except for one thing: pirates. You think piracy was a problem in 2009? After the zombie apocalypse, EVERYONE with a boat is going to be a buccaneer, sailing the high seas in search of booty. But in this case, “booty” means “food.” (Ironically, Pirates Booty will be more valuable than doubloons.)

A luxury cruise ship, sitting at anchor within sight of land, is going to be an irresistible target. The boat is going to be absolutely swarmed with would-be looters, like an antelope carcass in the Serengeti. You’re going to have to spend all day picking off desperate refugees trying to climb onto the Lido Deck, which is really not in the spirit of a luxury cruise.

This is the gold standard in post-zombie apocalypse living.

However, there’s another type of vessel that solves both these problems: a Nimitz Class aircraft carrier. The 10 Nimitz boats are nuclear powered, capable of running for 20 years without refueling. Think about that – you could stay out in deep water for two DECADES, enjoying electricity, hot water, and whatever DVDs the fine men and women of the US Navy had brought with them before the zombie apocalypse. And as for potential pirates, first of all, you can stay out in the very most remote parts of the ocean. Most would-be looters aren’t even going to be able to make it that far away from shore. And for those who do try and start something, you’re on a goddamned aircraft carrier. That thing is armored plated, and probably full of assault weapons. I’m not saying that determined pirates won’t give it the old college try, but you will be a match for pretty much anyone, short of other military craft who really really want those DVDs.

However, I have to dismiss the Nimitz plan for one simple reason. There is no way you, me, or any private citizens are going to be able to seize control of an aircraft carrier. I’m pretty sure those things are  well-defended. And when civilization starts crumbling at the seams, security is going to be of the “shoot anyone who comes within 200 feet of the pier” variety. Actually, what few carriers are actually on US soil at the time are probably going to cast off pretty quickly, sticking around just long enough to take aboard the President, Congress, and Meghan Fox.

So a cruise ship isn’t prepared to support itself for long periods of time, and an aircraft carrier is too hard to come by. Are you ready for my brilliant solution?

We prepare our own zombie survival cruise ship. Call it the HMS Romero.

F*** zombies! I'm on a BOAT, motherf**ker!

Take a look at this. In 2008, a 640-foot cruise ship was on sale for $31 million dollars. Seems like a lot of money. But the ship is designed to carry 1,279 passengers. Let’s say I played it conservative and found an even 1,000 people who were keen on surviving the zombie apocalypse. If they each paid $400 a month in “zombie insurance,” we could pay for the entire boat in only 75 months, or 6.25 years. But it gets better.

We would probably pay for this ship via a 20-year loan. That means instead of using every dollar to pay for the boat in 6.25 years, we could put only a third of the money towards the loan, leaving two thirds of the money ($266,000 a month) for modifications. What kind of modifications? Basically, we want to make this boat capable of supporting life without docking, indefinitely. We’ll pack it full of freeze-dried survival rations, vitamins, and seeds. We’ll set up every balcony and window with tiny gardens, growing fresh vegetables and grains. I suspect that a Nimitz-style nuclear reactor is going to be more than we can afford, but a combination of solar panels, wind turbines, and underwater generators that harvest the ocean current for energy should be enough to produce fresh water for a thousand people. I would hope it could also power stoves, ice-makers, and water heaters. My goal here is not just to survive the zombie apocalypse, but to do it in style. I want my hot tub.

Bring it on, Dennis Hopper. We're ready for you.

We’d also need to arm the boat to the teeth, so that we’d be ready for the pirates. In fact, part of my zombie insurance plan might include bi-annual retreats, where our thousand potential passengers would learn combat training, basic first aid, and fishing (lots of fishing). We’d also just bond – after all, if we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together on a 640-foot boat, we might as well get a head start on hooking up.

Of course, we’ll want to keep the boat’s exact location quiet. Only insurance policy holders will know, and it’s possible we’ll want to move the thing every few years for safety. Finding the right port will be tricky. You want it someplace that’s easily accessible, but remote enough so that it won’t be completely overrun in the first wave of the infection. Delaware might be a good choice.

Anyway, my plan might involve having the boat stocked and ready in the most basic way within five years. After that, the money goes towards constant upgrades. We will probably want to hide massive tanks of gasoline at various uninhabited islands around the world, so we’ll have a source of fuel far away from the population centers. Maybe we can replace the casino with a pen for chickens, to get fresh eggs and a little bit of meat. We can buy missiles on the black market, so that pirates learn that it’s suicide to come within a mile of our ship. And what about new treadmills for the gym?

Yes, John Cussack will be invited. But on everyone's birthday, he has to stand outside their stateroom and hold up a boombox playing Peter Gabriel. The first time he complains, he's overboard.

Of course, this plan has a problem – the same problem I have now. Once the zombie apocalypse hits, actually making it to the cruise ship may be next to impossible. Anybody else see 2012? To get to his ark and escape the apocalypse (water-based, not zombie-based) John Cussack is in no less than three situations where his plane just barely takes off as the runway falls into a bottomless abyss.

The folks who are particularly worried about zombies may want to live right next to where the boat is docked. The rest of us are just going to have to take our chances. Honestly, I think the ship’s designers could safely assume that of the 1,000 paying passengers, only about 500 will actually make it to the boat alive. Actually, you could probably have 2,000 paying passengers, and only assume that 500 of them will be able to make it to the boat alive. Or, if you really need the money to get this project off the ground, sell the insurance to 5,000 people, and explain that when zombies attack, ONLY the first 500 who arrive at the boat will get to escape. The rest are out of luck.

It should go without saying that everyone who gets on the boat receives a thorough inspection, to guarantee that no one is harboring the infection. Even better: every single person on the boat is locked in their staterooms for the first 72 hours, with food and water. We only let people out after we’re 100% sure they are not turning into zombies. (You doom-and-gloomers might wonder what will happen if the handful of people who are supposed to unlock everyone succumb to the zombie virus themselves, leaving hundreds of people chained in their rooms. Or what happens if pirates strike fast and hard while everyone is quarantined. But you know what? Stop being so pessimistic. We can SOLVE these problems. We can DO this.)

If it can't keep out the Orcs, it can't keep out the living dead.

Some of you might argue that for $30 million, we’d be better off building a land-based survivalist compound, probably high in the mountains where zombies are unlikely to climb to. It’s true that your money will buy you a lot more space, supplies, and comfort if you don’t have to plan for life at sea. But I highly prefer the boat – being able to TRAVEL is simply invaluable in an unpredictable situation. Consider:

1. Once word of your zombie-proof compound gets out (and SOMEBODY’S going to blab) you will be swarmed with hundreds (maybe thousands) of desperate survivors, who will stop at nothing to take your precious resources. If the zombies don’t get you, the people will. On the other hand, if the boat is attacked by pirates, you just fight them off and flee in the other direction. Everyone might know you’re out there, but they’ll never find you in the same place twice.
2. What if after a year, radio transmissions reveal that while North America is completely overrun, New Zealand has completely eliminated its zombies and fortified the coastline? If you’re stuck in a bunker in Montana, you’ll never be able to connect with this pocket of civilization. But if you’re on the zombie-proof cruise ship, you can just set a course for the safe zone. The boat gives you the mobility to find a new home, while staying safe and sound in the meantime.
3. If you’re in the mountains, you’re probably going to have to contend with freezing temperatures and brutal snowfall. But on the boat, you don’t have to worry about harsh weather. We’ll always stay where conditions are mild. And in the not unlikely event of a nuclear explosion, we can avoid the worst of the fallout.

I’m not saying the zombie-proof cruise ship will be “safe.” In a situation where 99% of the world’s population has been transformed into bloodthirsty monsters, “safe” is kind of off the table. But this solution will leave us virtually untouchable by zombies, armed to fight off any pirates, and free to travel the world in search of safety. And I promise, no matter how bad things get, I WILL keep the hot tubs working.

$400/mo.

Any takers?

Related Posts

• How to Survive the Thriller
• Dan O’Bannon, Unsung Co-Creator of the Modern Zombie
• How to Read Evil Dead and Why
• Episode 67: And Don’t Call Me Shirley
• Zombie Jamboree: Left 4 Dead’s Winning Formula

Okay, so we know that The Simpsons has hit the big time language-wise, what with words like “meh,” “yoink,” and “d’oh” entering the dictionary and sayings like “I, for one, welcome our insect overlords” and “worst episode ever” entering the popular lexicon.  These words and phrases still have power, and they’re still funny—after all, if they weren’t, the memes wouldn’t continue living on in blog posts, YouTube videos, and YTMND… things.

But I think we’re due for some new* Simpsons-related bon mots, don’t you?  So I’ve scoured Simpsons episodes and episode guides for the top ten useful words and sayings that need to find their way back into our lives.

*And by “new,” of course, I mean old: all of these words and saying come from The Simpsons’ first through eighth seasons—you know, the good ones.

#10: “We’re here!  We’re queer!  We don’t want any more bears!”

From episode 3F20: Much Apu About Nothing

Context: After a bear wanders into town, Homer stages a protest.

To be used when: Protesting for gay rights; protesting bears; protesting anything, really

Example: You go to a rally to support gay marriage and you notice there are too many burly, bearded men in the vicinity.

Chosen because: As we learned from Dr. Stephen Colbert, D.F.A., there’s nothing higher on our communal threat lists than bears.  Especially if you’re gay.  I guess.

#9: “Good ol’ rock.  Nothin’ beats that!”

From episode 9F16: The Front

Context: Bart and Lisa play rock, paper, scissors.  Lisa knows that predictable Bart always chooses rock, and, naturally, he does so again.

Used in order to: Mock people who keep returning to the same old bags of tricks, especially when those tricks never work.

Example: The coach of your favorite college team has decided to run the ball straight up the middle AGAIN.  Rolling your eyes, you say, “Good ol’ rock.  Nothin’ beats that!”

Chosen because: Although most of us, like Bart, think we are brilliant tacticians, this is simply not the case.  Now we have a go-to Simpsons quote available to us so we can mock others for the faults we ourselves have.

#8: “Johnny Deformed”

From episode 9F18: Whacking Day

Context: Marge tells Bart that the eponymous Johnny Tremain is deformed while silversmithing.  He notes that perhaps more children would have chosen to read said book had it been titled “Johnny Deformed,” instead.

Part of speech: Title; proper noun

Definition: The correct name for the classic book “Johnny Tremain”

Example: “The best part of ‘Johnny Deformed’ was when he got deformed.”

Chosen because: I am an English teacher.  Hey, we have to have some reason to laugh.

#7: “Like something out of Dickens or Melrose Place.”

From episode 3F06: Mother Simpson

Context: Used by Lisa to describe Homer’s discovery of his long lost mother

Used to describe: Something that seems impossibly dramatic

Example: “Morgan Freeman is trying to marry his daughter’s adopted child?!  That’s like something out of Dickens or Melrose Place!”

Chosen because: The vortex that forms where high (Dickens) and low (Melrose Place) culture meet is where OverthinkingIt.com’s server is located.

Something out of the Simpsons or Melrose Place.

#6: “Chock full of heady goodness!”

From episode 1F01: Rosebud

Context: When Bart finds the head of Mr. Burns’s beloved stuffed bear in a bag of ice, Apu congratulates Bart for finding a “headbag” and then says this line.

To be used when: You see something with an interesting head on it.  You can also replace “heady” with another adjective.  For instance, if someone criticized your apartment for having cockroaches in it, you could say they’re “chock full of roachy goodness.”

Example: The next time you see a movie that has a severed head (or head-on-a-pike) in it, say this line to your friends for comedic effect.  For best results, shout in the middle of a crowded movie theatre during a weighty historical flick about the French Revolution or the Holocaust.

Chosen because: The line is funny enough on its own but becomes several magnitudes funnier when said in a moderately racist Indian accent.

#5: “Why must you turn my office into a house of lies?!”

From episode 9F15: Last Exit to Springfield

Context: Said after a young patient lies to the dentist about brushing.

To be used when: Someone tells a lie.  Feel free to replace “office” with other words and phrases, including “comment section,” “Gossip Girl viewing party,” or “vagina.”

Example: “Of course I don’t know all the words to the ‘Who Needs the Kwik-E-Mart?’ song.  I’m not a nerd.”  “Oh, why must you turn this overpriced tapas restaurant into a house of lies?!”

Chosen because: In this fan favorite episode, this is one of the only lines that HASN’T become a meme.  Also: Dennal plan!  Lisa needs braces!  Dennal plan…

#4: “Condition upgraded to ‘alive.’”

From episode 2F20: Who Shot Mr. Burns? Part Two

Context: Mr. Burns is declared dead until he is brought to a better hospital, where his status is changed.

To be used when: The Internet (or “respectable news outlet”) mistakenly reports a celebrity’s death.

Example: “TMZ declared Michael Jackson dead, until more respectable news outlets upgraded his condition to ‘alive.’  Five minutes later his condition was downgraded back to ‘dead.’”

To be used: The next time someone mistakenly tells you that Gary Busey choked to death on his own crazy.

#3: “Well, that’s leprosy for you.”

From episode 3F10: Team Homer

Context: Said by Mr. Burns after he loses a nail.

Used to describe: Why something physically bad happened to someone.

Example: “Ugh, Lindsay Lohan looks like a dead alien in that picture!”  “Well, that’s leprosy for you.”

To be used when: Someone starts coughing uncontrollably, when your skin is peeling off after a sunburn, when your husband can’t get an erection, etc., etc., etc…

Well, that's leprosy for you.

#2: “…or choke their rivers with our dead!”

From episode 2F22: Lemon of Troy

Context: After Shelbyville steals Springfield’s prize lemon tree, ten-year-old Bart says that he and his friends will get it back or choke their rivers with their dead.

To be used: After describing your first plan of action.  For extra punch, teach your children to say it at their soccer games.

Example: “We’ll beat those bastards in Ultimate Frisbee or choke their rivers with our dead!”

Chosen because: I’m fond of hyperbole.  In fact, I love it so much my heart bleeds for it.  Bleeds, I say!  Bleeds!!!!!

#1: “Bonerland”

From episode 8F02: Treehouse of Horror II

Context: In “The Bart Zone,” the second segment of this Halloween special, Bart gains omnipotent powers.  Besides making Homer into a sentient Jack-in-the-Box, America’s bad boy (in 1991, anyway) dubs the U.S. “Bonerland,” which was discovered in 1942 by “some guy.”

Part of speech: Proper noun

Definition: The United States of America, especially when it has done something that justifies the name

Example: “Welp, looks like Bonerland has gone and invaded Iran…”

Chosen because: It has the word “boner” in it.  Heh.  Boner.

And that’s that!  Now, sound off in the comments, people!  Which of your favorite obscure Simpsons quotes should become so overused we forget why they were funny in the first place?

Related Posts

• Springfield, USA: A State of Mind
• Purple Monkey Dishwasher: The Rising Complexity of Springfield
• The Simpsons and Musical Parody
• Episode 80: NOT A Disco Stu Episode
• Simpsonomics: Did Homer Help Cause the Financial Crisis?

But seriously. Which posts were the most highly-trafficked? Here, without any ado whatsoever, is a list of the ten posts from 2009 with the largest numer of views.

1. Marty McFly’s Grim Future
2. The Science of Back to the Future
3. Slumdog Millionaire: How much is 20 million rupees anyway?
4. Clichemageddon
5. The Ghostbusters Are Horrible People
6. I Will Always Have Been Back: Toward a Grand Unified Theory of Schwarzenegger
7. [Think Tank] Best Use of Aliens as Metaphor
8. The Smooze: Anatomy of a My Little Pony Villain
9. Pixar’s UP!: Paradise Lost at Paradise Falls
10. The Ghostbusters’ Risky Business Plan

For those keeping score, Belinkie leads the pack with four posts in the top 10, while Fenzel and Lee tie for second with two each. Perich rounds out the top 4, tied with a herd of cats. (Seriously. You should try getting our writers to do the Think Tank on time.)

Overthink Something Else

• Overthinking Cowboy Bebop: Sessions 1-5
• Final Destination: “Grease” and the Afterlife
• A Dirty Little Funny War
• Antichrist and Uncle Jesse
• Episode 32: Music You Will Never Hear

These cows almost killed Disney.

It was only five years ago that Disney ran up the white flag and did the unthinkable: it shuttered its 2D animation facilities. This is the Walt Freaking Disney Company: they invented animated movies as we know them. But a series of flops (Treasure Planet, Brother Bear, Home on the Range) at the same time as Pixar churned out a string of instant classics was too much for the Mouse House. They decided that the public clearly wanted computer animation, and that’s what Disney was going to give them.

Except that didn’t work either. 2005’s Chicken Little didn’t even make back its budget domestically. So in 2006, Disney took the if-you-can’t-beat-’em-join-’em route, purchasing Pixar for $7.4 billion (which actually seems like a steal to me). The Pixar people were suddenly in charge of Walt Disney Animation… and the first thing they did was get the 2D animation department back up and running.

John Lasseter and Co. were betting that audiences hadn’t stayed away from Home on the Range because it was 2D. They had stayed away because:

a) It was lame, but more importantly…

b) a trio of sassy cows wasn’t what audiences wanted to see from Disney.

Anyone who’s been around a little girl in the last twenty years knows that the old Disney films still resonate, maybe even more than the new Pixar stuff. In 2009, the Disney Princess line of merchandise netted over $4 billion for the company. In a way, the continuing popularity of those 2D films is what enabled Disney to buy Pixar.

So when they set out to make The Princess and the Frog, they had a tricky task: produce something that recreated what people loved about the old Disney movies (especially the early-90s triumvirate of Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin), but also something creative enough to get consumers back into the habit of reflexively going to Disney movies. It’s sort of like making a Bond movie--you need to stick to the formula, but also keep it fresh.

So how did they do it? Well, let’s go to the chart. (And by the way, bigtime Princess and the Frog spoilers begin now.)

First of all, when I say “Magical Disney Princess Chart,” I don’t mean the princesses themselves are magical. I mean the chart is magical. But then again, aren’t all charts? And by the way, this is a work in progress, so if anyone has a clear sense of how long Belle spends at the Beast’s castle, let me know.

Okay, here’s the big picture. Most of these princess movies hit the same notes. The motherless child, the dream of another life, the whirlwind courtship (usually a matter of days), and the HEA (happily ever after) in a beautiful castle. Pocohontas, however, messes with the script: no HEA. Just a sad goodbye as a wounded Mel Gibson sails back to England. Then Mulan goes completely nuts. For starters, both her parents are alive and well. Instead of dreaming of another life, she only wishes she had an easier time conforming and being a normal girl. And whoa, there’s no love. There’s a love interest, but he thinks she’s a boy for most of the movie. Don’t get me wrong, I like Mulan a lot. But Pocohontas and Mulan are the least popular of the movies on this list. Clearly, The Princess and the Frog is trying to get that early 90’s mojo back… while still doing things a little differently.

Okay, let’s take it column by column.

The Disney Mom Gets to Live!

This is big, big news people. It’s been a long time since a Disney animated character had a mother in her/his life. And that was probably Bambi.

I’m not quite sure what the Disney company has against moms. There’s an interesting theory that the death of Walt’s own mom in 1938 influenced all his later works. In any case, Disney kills off the dude this time around. Tiana’s dad, briefly voiced by Terrence Howard in an early sequence, dies in WWI. Since he was the one who taught her how to cook, his absence seems to solidify her desire to open a restaurant. Which brings us to column two…

Finally, Someone With a Specific Dream

Snow White had a vague sense that “someday my Prince will come.” Cinderella just hoped that one day she wouldn’t have to mop so much. Aurora sighed over a mysterious man she met once upon a dream. Ariel wanted to be where the people are, Belle wanted more than this provincial life, Jasmine wanted to see life outside the palace walls, and Pocohontas was always dreaming of what’s around the riverbend.

None of these girls have any actual plans for their futures--they just hope something will happen to them (and it does).

Tiana is different. She wants to open a restaurant, and she’s working two jobs and putting aside all her tips. She even knows exactly what building she wants to buy, and she can hardly wait to fix the place up all by herself. The other Disney princesses are off in the clouds. Tiana has dreams too, but she’s working her ass off to make them happen. She is the change she’s been waiting for.

But the biggest way Frog differs from its sisters comes right at the end…

Happily Ever After, American Style

I’m not sure you could make The Little Mermaid nowadays. Ariel is only sixteen years old; basically a child. And not even a very mature child—her best friend is Flounder, who’s clearly even younger than she is (he must be like 13). She runs away from home to be with a stranger who she has a crush on. And at the end of the movie, her dad actually gives permission for them to marry. (I mean, aren’t they going to even date for a while? She’s sixteen.)

Statutory rape.

Personally, I don’t have a problem with The Little Mermaid. It’s just a fairy tale, and it’s set at a time when sixteen was a totally appropriate age to get hitched. But my point is, The Little Mermaid is arguably the least feminist Disney animated film of the bunch. Just think about the climax, when the heroine flops around helplessly on a rock, while her brave prince rescues her with a pointy boat.

But as we said before, Pocahontas and Mulan are clearly the two most proactive princesses, and the two least popular. Maybe the more feminist you make the Disney film, the less little girls like it. However, correlation doesn’t equal causation. Maybe those two are less popular because they don’t wear the frilly dresses girls love. Maybe it’s because they aren’t technically princesses. Maybe little girls are filthy racists.

In any case, The Princess and the Frog is clearly doing a tricky square dance: how do you tell a story with a strong female role model, while still delivering enough princessy stuff to satisfy all those little girls? Is that even possible?

First of all, Disney left no doubt that Tiana becomes an actual princess. The love interest, Prince Naveen, really is the Prince of “Maldonia,” a fictional country where they have sexy Latin accents. But the filmmakers work really hard to demolish the idea that being royalty is inherently awesome. Prince Naveen is broke, cut off by his parents. He’s visiting New Orleans partially to marry a rich woman, so he can continue his life of sloth. But there’s a critical scene halfway through the film where Naveen tells Tiana about how he used to have servants brush his teeth for him:

Hey, I admit, it was a charmed life. Until the day my parents cut me off. And suddenly I realized I don’t know how to do anything.

He says this with a genuinely embarrassed, sad tone. For a movie that’s aimed right at the hearts of millions of princess-obsessed little girls, this is a rather remarkable statement: being royalty and living in a castle isn’t so great after all.

This does NOT actually happen.

Think about the long list of Disney movies that end with the happy couple moving into a castle. This movie is the complete opposite—the Prince happily puts aside his life of royalty to live in the her world. In the final musical montage, we see the two of them buy the dilapidated old building, and painstakingly fix it up. They open the restaurant she’s always dreamed of, and call it… wait for it… “Tiana’s Palace.”

The movie has its gumbo, and eats it too. Yes, Tiana marries a prince and becomes a princess. But she doesn’t seem to care that he’s a prince at all; there’s no indication they even visit his country. Instead, she builds her own palace. This is like if at the end of Coming to America, Eddie Murphy decided to stay in Queens and help Lisa open a whole chain of McDowell’s restaurants.

This is the first Disney princess movie since the creation of the Disney Princess brand in 2001, and it’s clear they have mixed feelings about the monster they’ve created. Tiana’s friend Charlotte is a rich white girl, absolutely smitten with all things princess. In fact, the reason they become friends is because Tiana’s mom is a seamstress, and Charlotte demands a huge collection of frilly princess dresses. When Prince Naveen comes to town, Charlotte is obsessed with marrying him, sight unseen, simply because he’s a prince. Becoming a princess is her one ambition in life… just because. Charlotte is a funny character, but she’s also a pretty biting caricaturization of this movie’s core audience. Her princess obsession, contrasted with Tiana’s complete disinterest, feels like a gentle rebuke to the girls who bring their own tiaras to the multiplex. I actually saw these people.

But of course, it’s a VERY gentle rebuke. Because even though this movie thumbs its nose at the traditional idea of princesses, it’s also very much a part of that Disney Princess brand. Visit the DP website (if you dare!) and you’ll see Tiana front and center.

There’s one early scene that sums up this conflict completely. Tiana attends Charlotte’s masquerade ball, and falls into a table of food. Charlotte, who for all her ditziness is a good friend, offer her a change of clothes. And that’s how Tiana ends up in her gorgeous princess dress. It’s not her dress at all. It’s a costume, and it’s somebody else’s costume.

Bob Newhart was providing his famous voice for cartoons before it was cool.

That’s it for my chart, but I have a couple more points.

An Animated Movie WITHOUT Will Arnett??

It’s become par for the course to stock your children’s animated films with famous voices, usually comedians. Before The Princess and the Frog, there was a trailer for Despicable Me, which prominently featured a big list of names: Steve Carell, Jason Segel, Will Arnett, Danny McBride, Russell Brand, Jermaine Clement, Mindy Kaling, Jack McBrayer, etc etc. This is a sneaky way of getting parents onboard. Madagascar had Ben Stiller, Chris Rock, David Schwimmer, and Sacha Baron-Cohen. Kung Fu Panda had Jack Black, Dustin Hoffman, Angelina Jolie, Seth Rogen, and for HBO-loving parents, Deadwood’s Ian McShane.

It’s easy to forget that animated films didn’t used to lean on big names like this. The only recognizable voice in The Little Mermaid was Buddy Hackett as the seagull. Beauty and the Beast had unknowns in the major roles, but then tossed in Angela Landbury and Jerry Orbach (Did you guys not know that the singing candlestick was the gruff Law & Order detective? Surprise!). But I think it was Aladdin that changed things. Robin Williams didn’t merely play a role--he brought his own comic persona to the role, in a way all the adults would recognize. And Williams’ presence in the movie was publicized to great success. (Aladdin made way more than any animated film in history at that point.) The lesson Hollywood learned from this is that star power can sell animated movies, in the same way that it can sell other movies.

But in recent years, you could see Pixar trying to wean itself off celebrity voice talent. Cars had Owen Wilson, Paul Newman, Larry the Cable Guy, etc. But for Ratatouille, the main role of the chef who befriends a rat was actually voiced by a Pixar staffer named Lou Romano. Wall-E’s main characters didn’t even have voices.

And with the Pixar folks taking over all of Disney animation, maybe it’s not surprising that they didn’t want to anchor The Princess and the Frog with A-List talent. According to IMDB, Jennifer Hudson, Alicia Keys, and Tyra Banks all pushed hard for the lead role. Instead, it went to a relative unknown. Maybe it was because the relative unknown was head-and-shoulders above the rest. Or maybe it was because the studio didn’t want a recognizable voice that would overshadow the rest of the production. Ditto Prince Naveen—it’s a great comic role, and I’m sure they could have found a famous comedian to ham it up. Instead they picked Bruno Campos, who seems to have spent the past ten years doing TV. He’s great in this. And I’ve got to say, it’s a pleasure not to recognize the voices and just enjoy the movie. I was a little annoyed when John Goodman sailed in, doing his Oh Brother, Where Art Thou southern accent.

Revenge of the English-Accented Majordomo

It is a time-honored Disney tradition that all princes must have a royal sidekick. This person must be perpetually frazzled by the headstrong prince, and subjected to constant physical abuse. More importantly, this person must have an English accent, regardless of what nationality the prince is supposed to be.

This tradition probably started with Cinderella. In that movie, the Prince himself kept largely offscreen. But the King was always attended by the Grand Duke, a priggish monocled fellow who lived in constant fear of his master’s wrath. And with good cause—in one scene I used to rewatch constantly, the old man chases the Duke around with a sword.

No manservants in Sleeping Beauty, but The Little Mermaid brought us Grimsby. Like the Grand Duke, Grimsby was a guy whose dignity was imperiled in pretty much every scene. The first time we see him, he’s vomiting off the side of a boat. In Beauty and the Beast, Cogsworth played the same role. In The Lion King, it was Zazu. All these characters are fiercely loyal, but their pompous self-regard makes them irresistible targets. Call them the Disney Malvolios.

Prince Naveen has Lawrence, who at first seems to be the perfect stereotype. He’s English-accented, comically fat and mutton-chopped, and constantly humiliated by the Prince. Because he fits the part, we expect the guy to be doggedly loyal comic relief. The twist is, Lawrence is actually villainous comic relief.

The switcheroo is pulled off nicely. We see Naveen and Lawrence tied up and helpless as the witch doctor, Doctor Facilier, casts some sort of evil and highly musical spell. Soon after, a strangely different Prince Naveen shows up at a party. Naturally, we assume it’s Facilier. But in a later scene, we find out it’s Lawrence, who’s working with Facilier as payback for a lifetime of abuse. It’s a clever little twist that harkens all the way back to the Grand Duke dodging that sword.

(There is one other Disney movie in which the royal sidekick betrays his boss: Aladdin. But I’d argue that’s different. We know Jafar is the villain before we know he works for the sultan. Besides, Jafar doesn’t fit the Disney Malvolio stereotype.)

They Are Not Afraid to Make Little Kids Cry

Finally, I have to mention the most surprising part of The Princess and the Frog. Remember that hilarious cajan firefly from the teaser trailer?

Yeah, he dies. No, he doesn’t come back to life. He takes on a herd of ghosts in a cemetery, and the evil Facilier steps on him. He lives long enough to say goodbye to his friends, and then his light slowly fades. And I may be wrong about this, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Disney movie with an actual funeral.

If it makes you feel any better, his life-expectancy was probably about five days.

I was definitely caught off-guard by this. It seems perverse to try and sell stuffed animals of this critter to kids, and then kill him off. But I like it. It smacks of Pixar to me--those guys are convinced that children’s entertainment shouldn’t be sanitized of all of life’s unpleasant realities. And the funeral is actually really well done. All the fireflies put him on a leaf, and float him into the mist of the bayou. It’s sad. Real sad, but in a good way. The Princess and the Frog is clearly a more commercial exercise than the Pixar stuff, but it’s still got heart. And balls.

In case you couldn’t tell after 3,000 words, I like this movie a lot. I think the question you have to ask about any Disney animated film is, “Would I mind being subjected to this on DVD about 50 times?” I think by the 40th time, I’m going to relish that firefly’s death scene, but all children’s entertainment should be this good.

Sadly, America seems fairly meh towards Princess. The movie grossed about $25 million in its opening weekend. Which is… fine. But considering the marketing blitz, it’s probably a little less magical than they were hoping for. On the bright side, the movie got mostly glowing reviews, and if it counts for anything, I’m still humming the songs. If the Disney people can keep that kind of quality up, I’m looking forward to adding new rows to my chart.

Related Posts

• Belle: Princess or Not Princess?
• Wrestling with Wild Things, Part 1
• Pixar’s Up: Paradise Lost at Paradise Falls
• Episode 48: One Word… Plastics.
• The Darkest Moment in the History of Children’s Films

Every year it seems to start earlier and earlier. This year, the christmas decorations were up the morning after Halloween. The onslaught of treacly music began. The snowdrifts were painted into the corners of retail window displays. (This is particularly laughable as I live in Los Angeles, which is a coastal desert.)

And yet, the season has its pleasures as well. Great food. Time off from work. Eggnog Lattes at Starbucks. People wearing Santa hats around. Fox News’s annual sanctimonious hand-wringing about “The War on Christmas.” A court case or two over a nativity scene on public property. The release of cynical Oscar-bait films. ‘Tis the season to be jolly!

Question: What do you love or hate most about the holiday season?

And let us not forget the day just past: Thanksgiving. (American Thanksgiving for our international audience.) A time to pause, gather, imbibe immoderately, fight with your family, eat pie, and note your gratitude for things you might take for granted the other 364 days of the year.

Question: What neglected bit of pop culture are you thankful for?

These or any other topics are fair game: It’s the most wonderful open thread of the year!

Related Posts

• Open Thread for March 19, 2010
• The Overthinking Lost Open Thread: “Recon”
• The Overthinking Lost Open Thread: “Dr. Linus”
• 2010 Oscars Open Thread
• Open Thread for March 5, 2010