All Hail SpongeBob!
I’ve heard tell that there are some grownups who don’t get why other grownups might want to watch a cartoon. I guess those grownups have forgotten how good it feels when you’re braying like a hyena for 90 minutes straight. Maybe if we told them, I dunno, that nonstop laughter is good for the abs or something, they might see the value in it.
I mean, where else are you gonna find endless absurdity that’s meant to be absurd, that isn’t incidentally ridiculous — like, say, the evening news — that makes you want to laugh without always wanting to crawl up in a fetal ball and cry? You have to turn to a story about a sponge named Bob. Who wears pants. Who lives in a pineapple under the sea. It simply is a must for retaining one’s sanity in our insane times: a deliberate dose of deliberate insanity. War is peace. Ignorance is strength. Freedom is slavery. SpongeBob is God.
Where else can you turn except to The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie, which is kinda like Super Size Me meets The Lord of the Rings for lunch in the dining car of the Crazy Train. The placid world of Bikini Bottom has been taken over, like Sauron wishes he could have done to the Shire, by the evil little Plankton (the voice of Mr. Lawrence, who does “painful squealing such as occurs when one has been squashed underfoot” really well), who is controlling the citizens through fast-
And that’s not even the truly nutty stuff. This guy Stephen Hillenburg, who invented SpongeBob and his TV show and this movie, is clearly insane, in a wonderful way that makes a gal like me want to have his baby. The topography of David Hasselhoff (David Hasselhoff) on a way more intimate scale than I had ever hoped to experience? Disgusting! SpongeBob in the throes of an ice-
I fall at the spindly little feet of this man, this sponge, this SpongeBob, and worship his joie de vivre, his spirit, his square pants. Even though I am not worthy to do so.
*I kid, I kid! Please don’t hurt me.