BrokenJPG

A Copywriter’s Blog

lion-os

I had intended to write a review of the Thundercats reboot last week. But watching the premiere was a near coitus-like experience, and as soon as it was over I fell into a contented sleep and only just woke up.

(That means I liked it.)

Warning: if anyone reading this is concerned about minor spoilers or preposterous sexual metaphors, you shouldn’t keep reading.

I said before that I was cautiously optimistic about this reboot, but I didn’t expect this. This… was like an orgasm accompanied by the trumpets of angels. An angelgasm, if you will.

Artist's conception of an Angelgasm

Artist's conception of an Angelgasm

The best reboots update a nostalgic memory with something awesome enough to please your adult palette as well. Like being able to smell your mom’s chocolate chip cookies baking during an orgy.

The trick of course, is that you obviously don’t want your mom to be the one doing the baking, cause that’ll ruin the sex. And you can’t just buy cookies from the store, because there’s nothing nostalgic about that at all.

That’s what’s making me so happy about this reboot- these are definitely my Thundercats. They look similar, sound similar, and behave similarly to the Thundercats of my youth. Lion-O is an overconfident child, Cheetara rescues him in the knick of time, and WileyKit and Kat cause trouble.

In other words, the cookies smell just like I remember them.

And to compliment the cookies, the sex I mean plot: A brilliant explanation of why Cheetara runs impossibly fast and hits people with sticks. Snarf as blessedly mute comic relief. A backstory setting up technology as a semi-mythical thing no one believes in until a group of mechs show up and knock down the walls.

Having just included robots and pokemon rejects in my orgy, I confess the metaphor breaks down slightly at this point. Consider it proof of how difficult it is to get a reboot right.

thundercats-2011-remake-anime

There were one or two things that I missed. Jagga’s sacrifice didn’t seem anywhere near as emotional as it did the first time, and I really miss the origin story of the 80s version. Not that this one is bad. I just consider that one high art.

But these are my Thundercats. And when the Sword of Omens is held on high, the smile on my face is best described as “shit-eating”, and my ecstasy reaches a peak best described as… as… as…

……zzzzzzzzzzz.

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I’m not posting this to get political. I’m posting this because it’s a beautiful example of how to win a “debate” without stooping to your opponent’s level. Politicians and news anchors seem to think they have to act like bloggers- they scream and curse and wind up looking like children wearing a suit. They’re incapable of demonstrating their feelings on an issue without devolving to the level of a two year old.

But once upon a time there was an art to this sort of thing. A kind of polite verbal fencing, in which each side attempted to outdo the other with wit and metaphorical venom. It was the old white politician guy equivalent of a rap battle. The loser was the one who lost their temper or couldn’t think of a witty response. Barney Frank is clearly of the “old school”. He’s also Jewish.

The lady never had a chance.

Game: Barney Frank.

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