I remember noticing, back when I was in secondary school, the proliferation of Simpsons folk-art. Stuck on every wall, it seemed, was a sugar paper poster with a badly-drawn Bart or Homer on it. Their wobbly but well-known forms would legitimate any kind of subject, from the Beatitudes to Kenya.
Then, after I came to London, I remember living near a playground decorated entirely in the mode. I remember thinking how ubiquitous this stuff was, how culturally important it must be, and how overlooked it remains.
This week, I discovered Lion King fan art.
It’s incredible. There’s multiple websites dedicated to the stuff.
There’s hand-drawn, computer-drawn, 3D-modeled and more. They’re heartwarming. They’re defective. They’re wonderful. So many of them are misshapen, deranged, like Mufasa after the stampede.
Next I found coolest-birthday-cakes.com — a website showcasing home-made birthday cakes featuring popular characters, including The Lion King.
Then I found THIS.
I’m not going to say a thing about the animated Little Mermaid cake.
Not one thing.
* * *
Not oooooone thiiiiiing….
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I love Alias. I love how clever it was, how fun. I love all the secondary characters. I love the human moments, the mystery.
And yet, it seems, Alias loves me back.
That’s right. Part way through series two — pre-Lost, this being the twistiest, cleverestest TV show that moved — JJ Abrams and co. hit our intellectual funny bone with Sydney Geisha.
There are no words.
And yet, Alias was no stranger to stretching the limits of either believability or decency. For the latter, we can pop back to the ass end of season one — I realise that’s a whole nine episodes away from enlightenment — where Sydney is rendered ‘unrecognisable’ by a jar of instant coffee and one brown pastel:
For the question of believability, however, we must turn to the other cheek, finding ourselves in the second half of series two. Sydney needs to infiltrate a church in Mexico City to pump a civilian for information.
Let’s just recap here:
It’s in Mexico City.
There’s no enemy presence.
The busy church is accessible to the public.
Are you there yet? That’s right.
Our disbelief — and with it our prefrontal cortex — is instantly shattered by the dark genius of Elderly Sydney.