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All Things Considered... Disappointed

While there once was a man from Nantucket, this is not his story, nor is it the story of a boy from Boston, a lad from Laurence, or a fellow from Framingham, but a story of a kid with yellow skin, a red cap, a give-em-hell attitude, and a fourth grade education. And hell yeah, he coulda made sergeant! But he didn't. No sir he did not. You would figure that something so big, so absolutely needed in this fucked up world of pale v. brown skin, may not live up to the high standards of one B. R. Superfan but of, in the very least, the promotion of the product itself. For shame. For shame, for you have failed us.

Twenty years ago you learned how to make us laugh and how to make us feel and we too learned these things from you. But time as it is today, status quo has gone stale. The same ol' same old is old and not worth paying for to see. It was eighteen years in the making and quite frankly it may take eighteen more before I'll pay to see another. Sure I'll still watch for free, but I'm Superfan, and there aren't enough of us to keep the this Bluberpust on his toes.

Yeah, we laughed and giggled and smirked a little. But it was just another episode in the end, around the length of three. I don't know what to say, I'm horribly conflicted about this whole idea, that a cartoon family can laugh and cry and feel. And though it's worked for so many years, I've seen it and what I saw tonight, though new, I have seen before. I needed something more to make my trip worthwhile, a little suspense or drama, or a point to come down and say, we can be real too, we're not just characters on a page, lines spit profusely, vaudeville comedy of the nth bombasity. Because that's what made you real to us. That's what made eighteen years. You were real. And tonight, your movie was fake.

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