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Weekend Edition: 3-27

Interesting Reading in the Interweb Tubes

Nonbookish Linkage

  • Can religion give you PTSD?

Bookish Linkage

  • Some evangelicals are using book clubs to concerns about conservative politics

All you have to do to educate a child is leave him alone and teach him to read.

Ellen Gilchrist, Falling Through Space

Loco Lawsuits: Quit Creating Fantasies

Appealing to consumer emotion is part and parcel of advertising in America. Even back in 1962, Don Draper was saying, “You, feeling something — that’s what sells.” But some television ads can create adverse reactions. That seems to have been the case when a Michigan man sued Anheuser-Busch in 1991.

Richard Overton claimed that some Bud Light commercials were “untrue, deceptive, and/or misleading.” His pro se complaint said the ads led him “and the public at large” to purchase “inherently dangerous” products that were “likely to cause serious health problems, temporary and/or permanent impairment to the consumers’ mental abilities, serious addictions, and possibly death.”

Why were the ads so deceptive? Simple. In one, a beer truck was “shown to be the source of fantasies coming to life, involving otherwise impossible manifestations of scenic tropical settings, beautiful women and men engaged in endless and unrestricted merriment.” Such representations were “grossly misleading,” he alleged. He asked the court to issue a permanent injunction against Anheuser-Busch. He also sought damages for “personal injury to his health both physical and mental, emotional distress, and financial loss in excess of $10,000.”

The state court judge dismissed the suit, agreeing with Anheuser-Busch’s argument that it didn’t have a duty to warn of commonly known dangers. The Michigan Court of appeals agreed. It also observed that claims that Bud Light “is the source of fantasies come to life” was “grandiose.” Rather, any such suggestions were puffery.

Overton’s lawsuit was wrapped up more than a decade before Spuds MacKenzie became the face of Bud Light’s commercials. That’s when we all had a claim against Anheuser-Busch for intentional infliction of emotional distress.


Our Supreme Court has long recognized that the dangers inherent in alcohol consumption are well known to the public.

Overton v. Anheuser-Busch, 517 N.W.2d 308 (Mich. Ct. App. 1994)

When psychiatry came to the Hundred Acre Wood

Twenty years ago five Canadian specialists in pediatric neurodevelopment explored Winnie the Pooh’s Hundred Acre Wood. They discovered “Seriously Troubled Individuals,” many meeting the criteria for significant mental disorders.

Christopher Robin, Winnie the Pooh, and friends first appeared in stories by A.A. Milne in the late 1920s. In 1961, five years after Milne’s death, Walt Disney Productions purchased the rights to the characters. It released Pooh’s first animated film in 1966. Since then, Disney’s marketed Pooh in hundreds of ways and released short films, feature-length films, and television series and specials.

Pooh’s worldwide popularity was bolstered by animation and marketing. It wasn’t surprising then that “Pathology in the Hundred Acre Wood” drew international attention when it appeared in the Canadian Medical Association Journal in mid-December 2000. This was particularly when the authors said psychiatric diagnoses of the characters revealed “a Dark Underside” to the Hundred Acre Wood.

Using the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, their diagnosis of Pooh was the most extensive. They concluded he has attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). His excessive focus on food and repetitive counting suggest he might also have obsessive-compulsive disorder. Moreover, Pooh’s self-description as “a bear of very little brain” indicates borderline intellectual functioning. Their suggestion? “We feel drugs are in order,” they wrote. “We cannot but wonder how much richer Pooh’s life might be were he to have a trial of low-dose stimulant medication.”

As many others might, they found Eeyore suffers from chronic depression. “What a sad life this donkey lives,” they observed. They were unsure whether Eeyore’s condition was inherited or due to some early trauma but felt he “would benefit greatly from an antidepressant, perhaps combined with individual therapy.” Piglet, they said, “clearly” has a generalized anxiety disorder. They believed diagnosis earlier in life may have helped by putting him on an anti-panic medication. Owl, in turn, is “obviously bright, but dyslexic.” Rabbit, meanwhile, has narcissistic personality disorder, due to his “overriding need to organize others, often against their will, into new groupings, with himself always at the top of the reporting structure.”

They were quite concerned about baby Roo because of his single-parent home and his best friend, Tigger. While Kanga had no diagnosed disorder, they described her as possessive and somewhat overprotective. They feared she would end up “struggling to look after several joeys conceived in casual relationships with different fathers, stuck at a dead end with inadequate financial resources.” Tigger, meanwhile, has ADHD, a “recurrent pattern of risk-taking behaviours, and “leads Roo into danger.” As a result, “We predict we will someday see a delinquent, jaded, adolescent Roo hanging out late at night at the top of the forest, the ground littered with broken bottles of extract of malt and the butts of smoked thistles.”

They were also uneasy that leadership in the Hundred Acre Wood fell to young Christopher Robin. While they found no psychiatric conditions, the authors noted that there was “a complete absence of parental supervision, not to mention the fact that this child is spending his time talking to animals.”

The medical journal received a spate of letters and the article garnered headlines worldwide. In April 2001, the journal published a response to the letters. The authors pointed out that the article was a parody with no deeper meaning. They were, they said “attempting to poke fun at ourselves as modern neurodevelopmentalists who are at risk of seeing pathology everywhere and who feel driven to apply our particular vision of the world to everyone, real or fictional, human or animal.” They also apologized “to any fictional single kangaroo mothers who have felt stereotyped.”


When you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it.”

Winnie the Pooh, The House at Pooh Corner

Weekend Edition: 3-20

Interesting Straightforward Reading in the Interweb Tubez

  • The Covid Queen of South Dakota (“‘I choose to rely on science and data and facts,’ said Noem, despite disregarding the actual science and data.”)

Nonbookish Linkage

Bookish Linkage


If forty million people say a foolish thing, it does not become a wise one.

W. Somerset Maugham, A Writer’s Notebook

Dark theories about TV cartoons

Twenty-first century America feels saturated with fringe theories, even though they have a long history. These theories start for any number of reasons, such as to explain or make sense of perceived inconsistencies in events or other matters. They need not deal with major events, almost anything will do. Even television cartoons prompt conspiracy theories

Some are quite dark, especially one involving Rugrats, which ran in spurts on Nickelodeon from 1991 to 2006. The show was about four babies, one-year-old Tommy Pickles; his two-year-old friend, Chuckie Finster, and; one-year-old twins, Phil and Lil Deville. Also prominent was Tommy’s selfish and mean three-year-old cousin, Angelica Pickles. It was so successful three feature-length films were released between 1998 and 2003.

The core of the alternate interpretation is that all the babies are dead, except Tommy’s little brother Dil, who first appeared in 1998’s The Rugrats Movie. Instead, they are figments of drug-addicted, schizophrenic Angelica’s imagination. Chuckie and his mother died in childbirth, Tommy was stillborn, Phil and Lil’s mother had an abortion before knowing the baby’s sex so Angelica imagined twins. Angelica’s mother was a heroin addict so Angelica was a crack baby. To top it off, Angelica died of an overdose at age 13.

Unsurprisingly, Arlene Klasky, one of the show’s creators, dismissed the theory. She’s admitted she wasn’t fond of Angelica, believing her too mean. But the story was inspired by her own children so the Rugrats babies were alive?-?or at least as alive as any cartoon character.

The cartoon series The Flintstones, originally broadcast from 1960 to 1966, may suggest that dark theories reflect the cartoon’s time. Airing during the height of the Cold War, there’s a theory Bedrock was “bombed back to the Stone Age.” It proposes the Flintstones and the Rubbles live in a post-apocalyptic world. Curiously, The Jetsons cartoon series may also be involved.

In a 1987 made-for-television move, Elroy Jetson’s time machine takes the Jetsons to the Stone Age, where they meet the Flintstones. Some “what if?” speculation suggests the Jetsons didn’t go back in time but to a future where a nuclear holocaust laid waste to the Earth. The society in The Flintstones arose after hundreds of years. A variation has the Jetsons and Flintstones living at the same time. While the Jetsons and other wealthy families live far above the Earth in Orbit City, Bedrock is home to those who didn’t have the resources to leave Earth.

What’s the “evidence” for the post-apocalypse scenario? While the animals are prehistoric, the aftereffects of the nuclear catastrophe gave them intelligence and the ability to speak. Devices in the series are make-do reinventions of dimly-recalled technology. Thus, cars are foot-powered and have stone tires. In what appears to be mutually beneficial arrangements, The Flinstones has bird beak record players, dinosaur-powered heavy equipment, a mini-mastodon vacuum cleaner, and a “pigasauraus” garbage disposal. Bedrock also celebrates Christmas even though Stone Age man predates Jesus Christ by millennia. Christmas presents are bought with money, not through barter. There are also credit cards so there must be a banking system.

Maybe this does suggest The Flintstones was speaking to the repercussions of a Cold War gone hot. Or maybe the writers were just parodying modern life

That cartoons reflect the popular culture of the time is behind a theory that the Smurfs are racist, antisemitic, and part of “a totalitarian utopia, steeped in Stalinism and Nazism.” French academician Antoine Buéno suggested such in his 2011 book, Le Petit Livre Bleu (“The Little Blue Book”), a “critical and political analysis of the Smurf society.”

Image from cover of original French-language version of The Black Smurfs

Buéno pointed to a 1959 Smurfs story called “The Black Smurfs” for his white supremacist argument. In it, one of the little blue Smurfs turned black when bitten by a black fly. He, in turn, bit other Smurfs, who also turned black. Buéno told the Wall Street Journal that black Smurfs “lose all trace of intelligence. They become completely moronic. And furthermore, they can no longer speak.” The book wasn’t released in the U.S. until years later when the affected Smurfs were recolored purple.

As for Nazism, Buéno says the Smurf’s enemy, Gargamel, is a Jewish caricature. He’s “ugly, dirty, with a hooked nose (who) is fascinated by gold,” he wrote. Also, Smurfette, long the only female Smurf, exemplifies an ideal Aryan, particularly her long blonde hair. Buéno saw Communism lurking because Smurf Village rarely rewarded private initiative, all meals were communal, there was no private property, and Smurfs rarely left their country. Moreover, Papa Smurf not only was authoritarian, he resembles Karl Marx.

Buéno’s book created such an uproar that he received death threats. He said his intent was misunderstood. “I love the Smurfs,” he said. “I just wanted to explain with this book that popular works teach us a lot about the society we come from.” He said the Smurfs were far from alone in reflecting “a certain number of stereotypes particular to a given society and era.”

The Smurfs aren’t the only cartoon characters accused of Nazi sympathizers. When the first Tom and Jerry cartoon appeared in February 1940, the timing led to speculation that it was Nazi propaganda.

“Tommy” was a nickname for British soldiers dating back to the 19th century. “Jerry” became slang for a German soldier in World War I. When Tom and Jerry debuted, England and Germany were again at war and food rationing recently was introduced in Britain. The first cartoon, “Puss Gets the Boot,” established longstanding Tom and Jerry tropes. As in ensuing episodes, Tom is the inveterate blackguard, intent on tormenting, capturing, and trying to devour Jerry. Jerry, though, is peace-loving and intelligent enough to always escape or fool Tom.

So, was Jerry signifying German superiority and Tom an inept evildoer? Certainly not in the first cartoon. It didn’t use the names Tom and Jerry; the cat was called Jasper and the mouse’s name wasn’t mentioned. Tom and Jerry were first identified as such in their second cartoon, released in July 1941. By then the Battle of Britain had just ended but perhaps some believed a cartoon propaganda war had begun.

Evidently, our appetite for speculation and plots extends to seemingly innocent children’s television shows.


Life is so hard Tommy…sometimes I think it’s the hardest thing there is.

Chuckie, “Chuckie’s First Haircut,” Rugrats

(Originally published at Medium)