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Strange Correspondence
Hollywood Cocaine
Not For Hire
The Gay Bear Epidemic
I Hate You!
Retox
Rap Songs That Never Get Played Out
VP Mulligan, Please
Accidental Raver
Movies That Ruined My Childhood
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Hangover Hungries
Written Word
A Day in the Life
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We took America’s condemnation of Tinky Winky as a homosexual ten years ago extremely seriously. We simply couldn’t believe that a network of rogues like the ones at PBS would conspire to warp the minds of children with the abomination of a homosexual character who is nurturing and likeable. Since then, we’ve been monitoring America’s kids shows, and we’ve noticed a disturbing trend: your bears are fucking gay. All of them, across the board. The most concerning aspect of this is that it isn’t a recent development, but a longstanding tendency towards grizzled faggotry. Don’t believe us? Time for roll call.
Winnie the Pooh is so gay I feel guilty articulating how gay he actually is. His theme song centers on him being stuffed with fluff. He wears a faggy belly shirt. He’s got that soft-spoken voice and decidedly feminine mannerisms – that honey-scooping wrist is awfully flexible. His trademark phrase is “oh, bother.” His first name alone is gender ambiguous, and why is he called “the Pooh”? Why not Winnie the Bear? Wikipedia does not offer a satisfying explanation for this, so I’m going with that the culture of Pooh’s time wasn’t ready for an openly gay, honey-obsessed bear, so A.A. Milne thought it funny to make a poo allusion in a kids book in the twenties. And Pooh Sticks? Fucking Pooh Sticks? Not only is that game totally gay on its own, but it’s also a disgustingly obvious entendre for post-anal penises. Gross. Pooh lives in the 100 Acre Woods with only male friends (except for Kanga, who’s clearly a fag hag). Really, the 100 Acre Woods is practically a gay resort. Christopher Robin’s prancing around in tights and frilly shirts, Tigger has obviously gone a little heavy on the amyl poppers, Rabbit is the high-strung neat-freak neurotic queer, and Owl is watching over them in his grandma glasses, teaching them the ways of it all. And then there’s nervous, naïve Piglet, always clinging to Pooh for guidance. If he’s not the epitome of a bottom, I don’t know who is. Pooh just happens to be the king of this giant fag fest. Poor Eeyore, no wonder his tail won’t stay on. “Oh bother, is my bear cock too big for you Eeyore?”
Yogi and Boo Boo are supposed to be two smartly dressed hetero bears sharing a cave and dallying about in the woods? Unlikely. Also, let’s go ahead and assume there’s a little pedophilia going on here. I mean, c’mon, the two sleep in the same bed! Yogi, he’s full on with it, no doubt. You can tell by his fedora. I’m not so sure about Boo Boo though. Listen to his slow, drawled speech. Sounds stoned as shit to me. I’m not dismissing the notion that Yogi is force-feeding Boo Boo cough medicine around the clock to keep him docile and willing. Ranger Smith is probably running around trying to slap Yogi with some heavy child molestation charges. The pic-a-nic basket theft investigation – that’s just the Ranger’s cover.
Of all the gay bears we’ve come upon, Fozzy is the most conflicted. Still, closet-case that he is, his homosexuality is blindingly obvious. Look, the comedy routine is just a mask Fozzy hides behind because he’s afraid that if the conversation turned serious for even a single moment that Kermit would start talking up his friend of Piggy’s who’d just gotten out of a relationship and is looking for some new meat. Fozzy can’t lie to Kermit, but he also doesn’t want the truth to come out and make things awkward between them. That’s why Fozzy spends every waking moment telling awful jokes like, “What has 1,000 legs but can’t walk? 500 pairs of pants!” He’s always obviously covering something up, but his gayness is most apparent in the Muppet masterpiece The Great Muppet Caper. After Kermit, Fozzy and Gonzo drop into England to try to catch a jewel thief (it’s a long story), Kermit scores a date with Piggy, who he thinks is a famous fashion designer (an even longer story). As Kermit preps for his date, Fozzy comes to him hat in hand, tears in his eyes, unable to bear the thought of Kermit spending some alone time with a special lady friend. After singing a song about putting on a tie, Fozzy is able to get Kermit to agree to let him tag along. How long must this go on, Fozzy? Admit it, to yourself and to Kermit, and maybe the two of you can start having the relationship that you’ve been pining for all along.
Smokey the Firefighting Bear has a certain masculinity that the ladies usually go for, but he seems uninterested in their advances. No, he’d rather hang out in the woods all the time with his shirt off. “Smokey Bear” is trucker speak for state troopers, and everyone knows state troopers who lurk around at night are super gay. Also, Smokey is way too concerned with the status of men’s wood while they’re sleeping around a fire out in a desolate forest for some eyebrows not to be raised. But hey, at least Smokey is a romantic.
Disney’s always been a company that loves cross-promotion, which is the only reason it made sense to take characters from The Jungle Book and place them in a reimagining of the airborne shipping trade circa 1930. In Tailspin, Baloo is for some reason a pilot with a decidedly underage sidekick, Kit, and a boss (and obvious beard) named Rebecca. If Baloo’s relationship with Mowgli was suspect, his relationship with “lil’ britches” Kit leaves nothing to the imagination. The two spend long, womanless plane trips together, often complaining about Rebecca’s constant snideness. Their fierce loyalty to each other belies a partnership no female can interrupt. The two also often frequent Louie’s Bar, owned by the swinging King Louie. With its Hawaiian décor, flamboyant music, and nautical theme, Louie’s is obviously an after-hours fag joint. Baloo also resorts to drag on several occasions, which doesn’t always mean gay for cartoon characters if donned for deceptive purposes, but one look and you can tell that Baloo’s completely and totally into it. He probably even dresses like that when he’s just hanging out at home, waiting for Kit to sneak in through the back door.
In a lot of ways, Paddington represents the best that the gay bear community has to offer society. He’s a soft-spoken fellow in a tasteful, unassuming raincoat, strolling the London streets leisurely, doing his best to help his neighbors, though hilarity inevitably ensues. Sure, Paddington dresses like Mary Tyler Moore, but he doesn’t let his homosexuality define him. Paddington straddles the line perfectly. He isn’t a cloest-case, but he also isn’t running up and down the streets announcing his sexual preference. He’s comfortable with who he is, goes about his day, and leaves it at that. He’s not out doing crystal meth in the bathrooms of gay bars with a new stud every night. No, Paddington’s picking up lovers in bookstores and coffeehouses, a true gentleman all the way. Even though he’s ridiculously incompetent, it only makes him more endearingly cuddly. All things considered, if I were a gay bear I’d want Paddington to be my boyfriend.
Then you have the Care Bears, who couldn’t differ more from Paddington’s dignified dandyism. Shit, the Care Bears entire lives are practically a sustained twink parade. They’re rainbow colored, have heart tattoos on their chests, live together in a commune on some cloud, and, goddammit, they care. Even the dude ones are always wanting to talk about feelings. Ugh. What’s even more disturbing is that the Care Bears are constantly bringing children up to their cloud city so they can show the kids how peacefully they live. Uh, that’s called recruiting and that’s what the gays do to trick youngsters into becoming like them. I know. Pat Robertson told me that’s how it works.
Corduroy Bear spends all day and night trolling the mall looking for a fag hag to have sleepovers with. Really, Corduroy Bear is just an annoyingly scruffy version of Paddington. As far as the overalls go… maybe if he’d gone home with this guy instead, he’d have picked up a little better fashion sense.
Also, what the fuck is up with the Charmin Bears? I’ve never seen anyone so poop-obsessed, though I guess I’d be compulsively searching out the most cushiony toilet paper too if my anus was as sore as theirs must be from all the butt-sex.
In stark comparison to their cartoon counterparts, actual gay bears – gay men who are frequently fat and almost always hairy – are just as insidious in their veiled subterfuge of traditional culture. As every real American knows, the only truly attractive person is one who is thin and hairless. In rejecting the obvious axiom, gay bears threaten not only the undeniable greatness of the international fashion industry, but in addition make an attempt to lure our virgin sons into the lifestyle of the sodomite by impersonating responsible heterosexual members of society such as lumberjacks and firemen. Gay bears can be identified by their mating displays: calls of “woof”, a word that remains a mystery to non-bears (with the possible exception of dogs, who have somehow retained the image of straightness despite all the indiscriminate ass sniffing), the wearing of leather, and flagrant piercings. If you see an actual gay bear, due to its inherent quickness towards aggression as well as surprise butt-sex, the best way to emerge unharmed is to play dead. If you try to make it look like you’re bigger than they are, well, at least you’ll never be lonely again.