(Dark Disney Part 1)

Today, class, we continue our original fairy tale analyses…



As in “why” didn’t evolution weed out this bitch from the population?

People with an IQ of potato shouldn’t get saved as many times as Snow White did.

In Grimm’s OG version, the Queen specifically requests for White’s liver and lungs (I suppose if writers sub in a heart, it’s easier for kids to conjure up cartoon valentine looking versions – versus viscous blobs of poison filters and breathing organs). And the evil stepmother is not much smarter than her pasty stepdaughter. You’d think with an honesty-mirror, she might put it to good use and ask it sometime “Dear Looking Glass, please help me slaughter this trick’s ass. Amen.”

In the original, she does some grade A stupid shit after Snow escapes to the dwarf domicile. She tries about three different things that all sound like the poor planning of Wiley Coyote. And much like the roadrunner, White survives each time – starting with an actual “boobie” trap – attempted death by corset. The Queen first tries to murder her by lacing a bodice too tight, whereupon she faints (and the queen thinks she’s “leaving her for dead.”) Then she tries a poison comb – and the dwarves revive her again. Finally, she feeds her the famed poison produce – and it takes a prince to revive her.

The fun ending to this story happens after the bitch queen goes to see the wedding of the new “young queen” (who she doesn’t realize is actually still-alive Snow White). And instead of partaking in a royal reception, she gets presented with burning hot heels in which she must dance until she falls dead (between this and Cinderella – definite metaphors for how we all feel about wearing heels…)

I know I usually do the “if it were me” thing – but let’s be honest – Snow White was too stupid to live. The dwarves told her not to let in strangers while they opened their home to her (reasonable). She didn’t listen. And like most pretty princesses, she didn’t win the Darwin Award she deserved – ’cause there’s always a stupid dude willing to clean up after a hot chick’s hot mess. The crazy eight, in this case (why yes, I am including the prince who fell in love with her while she was half dead). The murderous queen was also pretty dumb with her convoluted schemes.

Thus, the mirror is the only rational one I can be bothered to advise: Learn how to offer better manslaughter tips, buddy.


“My queen, seven dwarves are no match for five finger death punch…”



Whaaaat tha’ fuuuuhhh… is this Anne Sexton Rapunzel poem?! Seriously. What is with mother figures in folklore? I recalled recently a retro-rendition of Rapunzel’s Grimm version. It was taught to me during a college course on Chaucer. While disturbing, what almost bothered me more wasn’t Anne Sexton’s incestuous spin. It was how all-too-excited my professor was to share it and witness our reactions. It took me a while to find this ish online, but homegirl was dis-turbed.

Sexton’s chick on chick incestuous pedophairy tale poem explains how Mother Gothel retains her “youth” by sexing up a captured minor she’s stuck in the tower. I feel like there’s little I can say better than these few lines from the actual poem do:

A woman
who loves a woman
is forever young.
The mentor
and the student
feed off each other.
Many a girl
had an old aunt
who locked her in the study
to keep the boys away.
They would play rummy
or lie on the couch
and touch and touch.
Old breast against young breast…
Let your dress fall down your shoulder,
come touch a copy of you

(But wait! There’s more)

Give me your skin
as sheer as a cobweb,
let me open it up
and listen in and scoop out the dark.
Give me your nether lips
all puffy with their art
and I will give you angel fire in return.


They touch their delicate watches
one at a time.
They dance to the lute
two at a time.
They are as tender as bog moss.
They play mother-me-do
all day.

“Breasts on breasts”? “Netherlips?” “Mother Me Do”?


Mmmkay (*pauses to gently scrub soul with antibacterial soap*)

I kinda needed to know why this pedophilic metaphor party was coming from one lady. And, researching the actual author, I got it: Anne Sexton was purging poetically about abuse she herself had suffered in her formative years. Proving yet again that channeling darkness into art is a brilliant way to make our way through pain – and sometimes support ourselves financially in the process.

And what would chick-guyver (that’s me, duh) have done were she Rapunzel?

This one’s so easy it’s almost painful. I probably don’t even have to tell you – but I will: You cut off your hair, secure it at the window end, climb down the chopped follicles, visit your local Japanese sword maker, and then…?


Go pay Mother Gothel a motherfucking visit.

THE BOSS CHILDREN (Hansel and Gretel)


The original “Hansel and Gretel” was called “The Lost Children”.

And it kicks some serious ass.

In possibly the only OG fairytale duo to epically effing own their assailants, Hansel and Gretel show us how it’s done. The French version of this story features a devil instead of a witch – and a far more satisfying revenge scene than eyeroll-worthy inspid incineration.

The devil doesn’t just plan to fatten and eat the porky little fuckers. Rather, he has this whole sawhorse he plans to exsanguinate them upon. Because they’re just kids, Satan totally buys it when the play dumb and pretend not to know how to mount said execution machine. Thus, Lucifer’s old lady demonstrates… and the kids subsequently slay her where she lays. Right in the jugular. And then they escape.

Finally! This texas sawhorse massacre escape just might be my fave yet. Two powerless children prove you can bleed out evil…


…even if you’re unarmed.