The Pussification of Humpty Dumpty

Anyone who knows me knows I'm a fairly liberal guy. Still, driving to/from work when the music mood doesn't strike me and NPR has something terribly boring on, I sometimes switch the radio over to the talk (rant) station which is inevitably someone like Michael Savage or Bill O'Reilly or Laura Ingram. While I disagree with most of what they have to say, I can't help but be entertained by the image of them spitting into the microphone, fists clenched and brows furrowed, leaning forward or even standing as they roar their disdain at the current state of America. At how the Liberals are destroying our children and turning them into godless Sodomites who eat kittens and have little cards in their wallets that get stamped after each abortion because the tenth one is free.

I laugh, and I laugh.

Tonight I'm not laughing. I'm not laughing because tonight I'm going to turn into one of those right-wing radio wackjobs, at least in spirit.

I just read this book to my two-year-old daughter. DK Baby Fun: Humpty Dumpty.

Ahhh, the classic tragedy. Humpty Dumpty.

Who among us hasn't been enraptured by this timeless story of daring, danger, and untimely death?

It's the king of nursery rhymes.

It's the king because it exemplifies the very purpose of nursery rhymes... to allow us to introduce the harsh realities of this world in bite-sized, neatly-wrapped packages.

So let's rewind to the reading of this particular version of Humpty Dumpty.

Page one:

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.

(Already my daughter is interested. I laugh. Oh that silly Humpty Dumpty. Won't he ever learn?)

Page two:

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

(That's what you get, you stupid egg! Sitting on the edge like that. My daughter shows appropriate concern. Already I see the lesson sinking in. Don't sit on ledges! Especially if you're an egg!)


Page three:

(This page has lots of explosions and bangs. A nice touch, I think.)

Page four:

All the King's Horses and all the King's Men

(A bunch of concerned citizens rush to Humpty's rescue. A glimmer of hope appears in my daughter's eye.)

Page five:

Couldn't put Humpty together again.

(Bam! That's right! That's what you get! My daughter realizes sometimes stories don't have happy endings, so you better be careful! She clutches onto to me more tightly so she doesn't fall. Lesson properly applied and learned. Thank you Humpty Dumpty for your lesson!

...but wtf is this? There's two more pages.)

Page six:

But if we close our eyes and imagine...

(But? But?! There's no freakin' "but's" in Humpty Dumpty! Already the lesson my daughter has learned is being wiped from her subconscious hardrive. I know I should stop, but I don't. )

Page seven:

We can put Humpty Dumpty back together again!

My daughter promptly leaps off my lap, assuming we can imagine away pain. Luckily I catch her in mid-air.

All lessons are promptly forgotten. The damage is irreparable.

This is worse than that Puppy Book Incident from last year.

This is like re-writing Romeo and Juliet and having the Montagues and Capulets get together to talk out their differences over Starbucks. It's like that wolf giving Old Yeller a hug instead of rabies. This is a literary slaughter of colossal proportions.

Before

Seriously, what the hell? Any parent who picks up Humpty Dumpty knows what's in store. This is the wholesale guerilla pussification of our children!

I'm all for happy endings. (Heh.) But write your own damn story if you want one! Don't bastardize a classic so you can sneak your agenda in! (Picture me standing at my laptop and spitting.)

After. And the End!