Christopher Robin is being replaced by a "tomboy girl" in order to appeal to the youth of today.
Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but am I not the "youth of today?" I think I am a youth. I am certainly not the... what's the opposite of youth? Oldth? Of today, anyway. I am of the Winnie the Pooh generations. I recall with great clarity the original BBC/CBC cartoons. With the snow. And the charmingly stuttery animation. And Christopher Robin. With the cute girly accent.
Except, hello, Disney, and goodbye, Christopher Robin. It happened in stages. They made new cartoons. (*still reeling*) First he was "modernized," his accent gone, his cute little Mary Janes and blue duffle coat replaced with much more appropriately masculine red sneakers and jeans. But now? He's out. And not only that, but they're ousting him for a deeply-painfully-CG-six-year-old American "tomboy" in a purple bike helmet.
WTF. First an American and now a tiny lesbian? Er. Tomboy. Sorry. I guess Disney hasn't caught up with the fact that all dubious sexual identities become slash in the head of 80s babies who grew up on the Internet. (I swear I wouldn't mock, except they're actually calling her a "tomboy," a term I haven't even heard often used by LJers, let alone TV execs, since the 1990s. And for just a second my brain went somewhere else entirely and oh gods I want never to go there again ow ow ow wasn't the Full House Porn punishment enough?!) What about Christopher Robin? We love him and we miss him. Leave them alone. I mean I am all for gender equality and the evil dissemination of sexual equality throughout the ranks of the innocent uniformly-heterosexual fundamentalist-parented youth of America and the accompanying downfall of civilisation, because in the chaos following maybe you Americans could learn to just, y'know, chill, but What. The. Fuck.
I am not judging the imaginary child. Really I'm not. I like kids! Mostly. But I have this horrible feeling that the entirety of this new series will amount to one great CG-Sue fantasy, and should I ever come across it by chance I may be forced, motivated solely by the non-rational and Id-driven compulsion of my vengeful four-year-old self, who memorised every piece of dialogue from the old-series episode where Tigger got stuck up a tree and had to be rescued by the strategic application of a blanket, to drive, mail, or courier to whatever soul-dead former animator who conceived of this something large, rotting, and possibly explosive.
Probably not an animal carcass. Partly because that would be going
And now, I return to hating Ana-Lucia and slightly less silly things.
EDIT: In case this was not eminently apparent, the previous post was not intended to provoke, however well-intentioned, any of the following: serious sociological discussion, gently-chiding reminders of the cold, hard reality of television economics, the tactful revelation of the fact that there really is no Santa Claus, subtle, kindly encouragements to act my age, or any similar information that might lead to the conclusion that all my intended career goals are doomed due to their hopeless naivete and dependence on my stupidly persistent, yet fleeting, faith in the resilience of human social conscience. I am a dork. Sheesh. Wasn't it obvious by now?