The Greatest Generation? Bah.
Would somebody please tell me what the hell is up with the so-called Greatest Generation and its penchant for terrorizing children?
Mini was watching Frosty the Snowman for the first time the other night, and I mean — I get it — they had to live through the Great Depression and the War and everything, and life is transitory — yes, yes, I get it, gramps, but can we cool it with the life and death lessons in the holiday specials already? You’ve taken the trouble of imbuing a snowman with 1) life and 2) the voice of Jackie Vernon, and now you’re going to force him to melt on a fucking hothouse floor? What the fuck is that?
Listen: it’s not about whether or not the kid can take it. The kid can take it. It’s just, why does the kid need to take it? What is the point? Let’s juxtapose this with Frosty Returns the sequel made in the nineties with John Goodman in the title role. Now, don’t get me wrong: that version is totally awful for totally separate reasons (it forces us to endure John Goodman singing, for example), but at least the boomers making that cartoon went a little easier on us when it was time to say goodbye to Frosty. They just had him whirl off into another town in cloud of snow. Yeah. And far be it from me to use the boomers as good examples of anything, believe me, but it seems like whirling off into another town in a cloud of snow seems like a good plot twist for Frosty, given that he’s a snowman, and everything. Why add the deus ex machina of “Christmas snow” and the magical rabbit, a stowaway criminal villain in a zoot suit, and then bring in Santa to explain it all.