No, not about whether Hess was crazy or if Nureyev really knew how to fly. This concerns whether an innocent 1960s-era Rankin/Bass cartoon was produced with misogynistic and homophobic undertones in a 2018 context. Yes, boys and girls, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer has been arrested by the Thought Police. I know you’ve probably read about this already. But perhaps there are facets, bizarre facets, you have not already contemplated. Allow me to be of service.
We of an age remember when seeing Rudolph at the beginning of December tolled in earnest the advent of the Christmas season. The lamer cartoons like Frosty and Santa Claus Is Coming to Town also played their part. But Rudolph was the thing.
As such, I find it strange that today’s Bolshies have an issue, as many of us of odd temperament knew it then to be a production of such overwhelming perversion, disease, and degradation that upon seeing it moray eels would vomit with revulsion. Kind of a Gin Lane at the North Pole. Given their attachment to such things, why does the left have a problem with it?
Rudolph, as we can plainly see, is disabled. Though he has special talents. Clarice is his SJW case manager. Donner is a mansplaining sexist, Mrs. Donner a Deermaid’s Tale housefrau. Coach Comet is over-the-top butch, thus hiding his true marginalized self. Fireball is codependent. Santa is a capitalist exploiter of the worst sort and the elves are merely slaves to his rapacious profit motive. Yukon Cornelius and the Bumble are a couple who practice a certain type of alternative lifestyle, the whip being a serious indicator. And Hermey the misfit elf is, well, obvious.
On the Island of Misfit Toys? The Spotted Elephant has smallpox, the water pistol is a glaring Freudian metaphor, and the cowboy riding an ostrich is at best, unnatural.
A whole generation, namely mine, saw these characters cavort on television annually and, aside from several years of rampant cocaine addiction in the 80s, were no worse off for it. We also witnessed hours and hours of unmatched comic violence when we were at a tender age. Think of the mayhem done to Wile E. Coyote or the pain inflicted on any one of the victims of Bugs Bunny. But it is other generations, hopped up on lurid video game violence, who shoot up schools. Of course, the backstory of I Don’t Like Mondays notwithstanding.
Are Orwellian bullies satisfied with ruining Rudolph? Nope. They dare to trespass on even more sacred ground and target A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving for oblivion. His charge? The details of the seating arrangement.
Forget that Peppermint Patty is addressed as “sir” by her closest companion, our PC Obergrupenfuhrers see a Rosa Parks moment in the placement of Franklin, a friend of Patty’s, at the table. That known and vicious racist Charles Schulz no doubt planned it that way in league with the Klan and the rest of the Democratic Party. Franklin seems not too affected by the slight and all go on to have a nice feast. But can’t have that, as grievance is always the theme of the day for the left.
Not to leave out music, Baby It’s Cold Outside is now considered rapey. Though Dean’s version is imbued with martini-fueled cajoling, the definitive version is the Rod McKuen and Petula Clark duet. There he slyly employs all the lures of seduction, including some likely low-grade ganja, to convince her to stay inside. Therein lies the point: he’s not coercing, he’s making his case. We shouldn’t be surprised that many on the left are oblivious to this, as they have never been exposed to romantic seduction of a traditional variety. Which brings us back to Hermey and Patty.
Veggie Tales comes in for the treatment too, as multi-colored vegetables; they are the bloody epitome of pigmented diversity, who tell Bible stories in a whimsical fashion and are said to be bigots because Larry the Cucumber and Bob the Tomato apparently do not include an eggplant-based character amongst their associates.
So, sarcasm on hold for a moment, what to do? Ignore the lot of the screaming meemies and carry on.
For the things the leftists are truly after are not cartoons, but the innocence of American childhood as expressed through culture. They long to extinguish any remaining aspects of the Judeo-Christian ethos they haven’t already crushed. Thus, how dare Linus quote the New Testament in A Charlie Brown Christmas. The very cheek of it!
Any depictions of family themes, as in all the above-mentioned programs, must be washed clean to install the new norms prevalent in the faculty lounges of the pseudoelite poodle factories that pass for higher education. They full well realize that if they continue to weaken faith and family, then the whole structure of the West, of what was once Christendom, will come tumbling down to be replaced with the current economy of Venezuela and the raging moral integrity of Manhattan.
Come the day they reign supreme on a charnel house of the humanities, on the night of their dark triumph, what will they have gained? Childhood shorn of simple virtue, churches and shuls without a holy presence, libraries that house only the approved texts of a material and deadened society?
Before that day dawns, we would do well to recall with vigor Horatius at the Bridge by Thomas Babington Macaulay…
“Then out spake brave Horatius,
The Captain of the gate:
To every man upon this earth
Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds
For the ashes of his fathers
And the temples of his gods…”