Surprise!

I bet you greedy sons-of-bitches thought that I was finally gone for good. That you wouldn’t have to answer to me ever again. I bet you thought that the rumors that I’d had myself frozen were ridiculous fallacies composed by bored conspiracy theorists.

Well you couldn’t have been more wrong! I did have myself frozen – from top to bottom – and I’ve finally been brought back to life with a little help from the ol’ “Disney Magic”. (And a space heater.) It didn’t work perfectly, but it worked. And now that my brain is almost running at 30%, I’ve got a couple of things to get off the hollow cavity that is my chest.

First off, why the heck is Donald Duck stabbing all these Negros with a giant wand?

Listen, I don’t know what the darn heck a “video game” is. And frankly, I don’t care. What I do know is what a Disney product looks like. And this “Kingdom Hearts” thing is no Disney product, my friend. It’s the abortion of a beautiful dream. My dream.

Freddy, the scientist that’s been spoon-feeding me apple sauce and antifreeze, told me that a video game is an “interactive movie.” They’re a “big thing,” I guess. Help me understand this: you sorry sons-of-bitches have been throwing away all my hard-earned profits on an interactive movie where a Donald Duck beats up Negros with a giant key, but you still haven’t cured cancer?

Bravo. I’d clap my hands if that wouldn’t make them shatter.

“Disney Magic”. Remember that? I sure do. It was only yesterday that I was making motion picture history with every new release and overseeing the production of a state-of-the-art ride about pirates who plunder a city and rape the womenfolk.

There was magic in the air when I died. You could smell it. And now, with my nostrils reattached and working once more, you know what I smell? Shit!

I thought when I died that I had made my vision very clear. I even went on national television and broadcast live to all of America what my vision was. And still you dumb bastards screwed it up. Allow me to restate two key facts:

1)    Disney characters do not beat up on Negros.
2)    Disney singers do not coat their audiences with white foam that comes out of their cock rockets.

I could go on about point number two for a week, but I only have a few hours before they dip me back in the cooler for another fifty years of winter. So I’m going to make the most of my time and stick to only one of your many trainwrecks.

While Freddy was chiseling the ice off my brow, he mentioned that the Japs made this “Kingdom Hearts” game. I tell you, when I heard that, I got so red that I almost didn’t need anyone blowing hot air on my neck with a hairdryer!

The JAPS? Why the hell would you let those GI-killing bastards take my babies? You can’t trust them! Have you all forgotten already? Aren’t there no “video games” about World War II? If there aren’t, I think you ought to make one. Remind the world of the countless atrocities those soulless sons-of-bitches visited upon my brothers. Use Goofy in it. Maybe he gets sliced in half by a samurai sword. I don’t give a shit. He never was my favorite.

Here comes Freddy. Looks like my time is up.

Hell, I’ve been dipped in liquid hydrogen for fifty years. Maybe my views are a bit old fashioned. Maybe the Japs have turned their nation around, I don’t know. Maybe it’s okay these days for young girls to parade around town with their bellybuttons out like harlots. I sure hope not. Maybe these video games about keying Negros to death are acceptable forms of entertainment. Maybe all that is true.

But Kingdom Hearts is not approved by me, no matter what the slanties tell you. Got it? Disney sells wholesomeness and always has. Doesn’t that have a place in any of your “video games”?

Down I go. I’ll see you morons in another fifty years. I better not wake up to Mickey shooting the faggots with a laser cannon or something. I’ll be so pissed.

As told to Hardcasual’s own Filipe Salgado.