Monday, April 22, 2013

Where the Wild Things Are Not

Maurice Sendak's luscious and enchanting story of 48 pages is quite lovely for two reasons:

1. Distincitve color palette with memorable monsters
2. Story of imagination taking you away -- but not too far away. There is tasty dinner after. You can always go home again.

This is a story written in the 60s for the parents of the 70s and 80s drunk on pop-science telling  you to coddle your children.

You want a real story? Go read Peter Pan. Peter Pan is not for bitches. Peter Pan is for the people who know they could go home, but home would never be the same,  they are too big for home, and they choose to go back to their innocently murderous ways.

Peter Pan raised The Greatest Generation. Where The Wild(e) Things Are raised the sissy whiners who actually buy the footy pjs from the pages as 24 yr olds. And they protest Wall Street. With zero comprehension.

Finally, who would win in a cage fight between Peter Pan and Max?



Babe
Swords
Pixie
  
No big.


Vs,


defeat
um... yea...