The Following Column Has Been Rated “R” for Cynicism,Suggesting of Sexual Congress between Scotsman and Sheep and Blatant Use of theWord “Allegory.”
Ifyou read my column weeks ago, then you may have concluded that we Americansare, shall we say, delicate in approaching topics like sex. But I insisted thatwe’re still perfectly willing to confront them. Well, I’ve changed my mind, andso should you, especially after what I saw and heard over Thanksgiving weekend.
Thefact is, Americans are an amazingly squeamish bunch when it comes to, well,anything that even be potentially mildly controversial. They’re so squeamishthey don’t even dare state what the controversial material is, lest it offend ahypothetical someone somewhere at some undetermined point in the future. Weshow hypothetically offensive films, but it’s clear that impressionable mindswill inevitably be corrupted. Here’s the answer: wholesale censorship.
Ideduced this while shopping at Target this holiday weekend. I idly perused thecheap DVDs to see if anything sufficiently warmed my heart enough to make mepry open my wallet, which is generally shut up tighter than a clam with achastity belt on (assuming clams even have chastity to begin with). I foundmyself struck by the rating that a seemingly wholesome Christmas-time movie hadgarnered. “This movie is rated PG,” said the back of the box, “due tolanguage.” Not “strong language,” or “slur-filled language,” or even “the mostvile fucking language we’ve ever heard.” Just “language.”
Iasked myself, “Are they speaking Swahili in the movie?” We certainly shouldn’tallow the children’s poor little minds to be inundated with such a blatantattempt to portray culture! Other movies I looked at were rated more harshlyfor things like “mayhem,” “sexual suggestiveness” or “intense sequences.” Theonly movies our children should see on their own are ones that won’t get theirlittle hearts racing any more than a trip to the fresh produce section at yourlocal supermarket would.
Ilike this idea. Lord knows our children are already overexcited little ADHD monstersthanks to video games, sugar and Hillary Duff’s midsection. The last thing theyneed is any more stimulation. Anything of that sort may damage their malleable,putty-like minds irreversibly, and that’s something we should not stand for,especially not while our public schools are doing a much better job.
Indonesiahas the right idea and simply keeps these satanic materials out from theget-go. You may recall, back in “the day” (“the day” being sometime after the“days of yore” but before “the time”) a little movie called Babe. It’s an uplifting taleabout a pre-processed sausage link who saves his own hide by performingsheepdog tricks to please his cruel Scottish owner, all while weakening ourhearts with his cute little digitally-added voice.
Well,the Indonesian film board, in its infinite wisdom, would have none of that! Asit turns out, pigs suffer from a less than sterling reputation in Islam and assuch the idea of a talking pig was a blasphemous one. Also, they didn’t likethe way those sheep were always hanging around each other, avoiding thepenetrating, longing gaze of the Scotsman. So, that was right out. Indonesiapromptly banned Babe from ever being shown, joining such deviant works as TheYear of Living Dangerously and the television show Family Guy.
Iwasn’t in town when Charlotte’s Web came out, but I’m willing to wager that talkingspiders in cahoots with talking pigs didn’t exactly win the film board over.Heaven forbid, somebody in Indonesia might start keeping spiders and pigstogether, and if you’ve ever read Animal Farm you know that puttinganimals together means trouble. (Also, it may mean political allegory.)
Iapplaud Indonesia’s efforts in this matter. There is already far too much mayhemin the United States. I know, for I am a victim of its horrendouseccentricities. Before I came to Grinnell, to America, I had benefitedimmensely from Indonesia’s mothering. I slept easy at night, did not touch somuch as a snifter of alcohol, routinely aided the elderly in crossing thestreet and always cleaned my plate.
Thatall changed once I set foot in an American movie theater in August of 2004. Mypoor, 18-year-old mind was simply unequipped for the maniacal depravity offilms like Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement. Damn you, JulieAndrews! You made me into the rambling mess I am now, on the verge ofalcoholism, shoving the elderly into oncoming traffic, stomping cute furryanimals into pulpy bits.
I ama monster, and it is all America’s fault.
Iwrite this as a caution to all my viewers. Lock yourselves away, shut theblinds, shoot your television. Unplug the microwave for good measure. Forgetthe outside world ever existed. Only then will your beautiful minds remainunspoiled. Trust me on this one. I’ve only your best interests at heart.
