Dear King Friday

Dear King Friday,
At the risk of beheading (which could be fun, as along as it's not me losing my skullcap), I must point out your obvious and egregious prejudice against Sir/Miss Piglet, who, in my opinion, is, like Master Pooh, one of the greatest philosophers ever to grace not only the Hundred and One Acre Wood with his/her presence, but also many lands well beyond the Wood's fluid borders. For, you see, Sir/Miss Piglet offers each of us the hope that, with tenacity, confidence, careful attention to every little detail, and a little help from our friends, each of us lowly beings can overcome such things as a speech impediment, unfounded judgements concerning our intelligence, even our unseemly pink nose and large, wholly unpig-like ears, which set us apart from the mainstream and make us a target of schoolyard bullies. Additionally, Sir/Miss Piglet is confident enough in his/her sexlessness to run around the Wood in a leotard. This, above all, demonstrates a knack for survival (and a bit of rebellion) in this potentially dangerous Wood, especially that dark and lonely extra acre with the black rain cloud hovering perpetually above it. There's tell of howls of delight and agony that periodically spill out of this particular area like blood cascading from a goblet. (Goblet was Piglet's plump cousin. He tasted a lot like chicken). I ask you, King Friday, can you ride a terrifying storm in a honey pot and gamely outwit Heffalumps, wearing nothing but a leotard and possessing zero natural camouflage? I dare you to try, Friday, but I believe your lack of legs (aside: Ariel has no legs either) will impede your efforts and, as we all learned from the Incredibles, a cape is just poor planning when you're trying to do battle with a raging Heffalump. (They kill more people annually than do hippopotami, you know).

Now, concerning this Little Mermaid business… do you really want to flop around in the hot sand, helpless, voiceless, waiting for a man to rescue you? I didn't think so.

The little black rain cloud has spoken.

Oh, fuck all y'all. I'm Morgana. Morgana le Fay. And I ain't afraid to zap your asses, so I leave you for now with this tiny, pink-hued bit of profundity… "Well, even if I'm in the moon, I needn't be face downwards all the time."

Words to live by, courtesy of our very own Sir/Miss Piglet.