For many years I have been a mass consumer of their ridiculously over-priced products and a pawn in their consumer filled game of parks and entertainment. I have spent hours in the Disney Store at the mall, held hostage by own son as his eyes traversed the mounds of ingenious marketing.
By my estimate, the money that I have spent on Disney DVD's has purchased another people mover for Animal Kingdom (so, you're welcome Johnson family from Missouri. It was a pleasure moving you.).
Basically, I buy a lot of Disney shit.
It's really an imaginative marketing ploy they have going now. THE VAULT. You see the commercials, 'available for a limited time only before it is locked again in the Disney vault' and an animated picture of the DVD on the screen followed by a large, stern, impenetrable vault sealing.
And you think, 'Well, shit. This movie is going to be locked up?! For how long?! Can I buy it if it's in the vault? Do the stores stop carrying it? OMG! What if my son NEEDS this movie? What if this movie is the master key to unlocking his childhood dreams?'
So, I usually buy the damn movie. Because really who am I to impede the development of my toddler's dreams?
And then I take it home and we proceed to watch it 50 bagillion times until the point at which Brae and I can recite the entire movie.
A month ago Disney was threatening to send 101 Dalmatians to THE VAULT. You think I could let that happen?
So we've been watching 101 Dalmatians at least 5 times a week for the past few weeks and frankly, I'm ready to lock that thing away anyway. I would chuck that thing in the pool if given the opportunity and the ability to see the look on my son's face when I confessed. I have neither.
and, whoa ho ho BONUS!
If you purchased the DVD at Walmart it came with a CD for your car. Because if Rodger and Anita Darling were not enough for your home entertainment, we have them in . the . car! Joy!
Brae's favorite song is one titled, "Pluto's Waltz". A mere description of this song is simply not enough. You must be subjected to it in person to revel in it's all-encompassing annoyance. I looked for a simple audio clip and could find none, yet here is the song set to a doggie montage that I discovered on You Tube (is it just me, or is You Tube filled with these eyebrow raising, 'you spent time on this?' videos)
I told you it was horrid. Now, can you imagine this on repeat for at least an hour before I threaten to chuck it out the window of my sedan? The second song on this clip is a lesser annoying song that is also on his C.D. You know, it has actual words, so I don't mind it (as much).
Yet still I continue on my quest to pad the pockets of those Disney executives, after all they put me through.
They really should thank me.
My, son. The beatnik.
Braeden is a genius. Really, there is no arguing that.
And now an apparent poet.
I present the masterpiece he brought home from school yesterday:
Ooh, lokee there. A mention of 101 Dalmatians. Crazy he thought of that, it's been all of 6 hours since his last viewing.
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