There are some really lame characters on children's television (I'm looking at you, Barney), but the only one that generates genuine homicidal ideation in my soul is Charlie, the retarded, speech-delayed crocodile from Maisy. I want him to die.
Why the venom? For starters, Charlie is an embarrassment to crocodiles everywhere. Ever watch Animal Planet? A true crocodile will fuck you up. He'll eat your head. But Charlie ain't tryin' to hear that. He's content to prance around in his red and white striped shirt and make these strange, squealy, unintelligible noises that sound nothing at all like a real crocodile. Charlie is to the crocodile population what Rip Taylor is to human beings.
Charlie's best friend is a mouse, and that's just wrong. Crocs don't even bother eating mice because they're so damn small. Why would I want to teach my children that crocodiles are friendly and respectful and are huge into tea parties with mice and squirrels? They're not. They're mean and they bite. And if I don't teach the kids that crocs eat kids, they may invite one to their tea party and end up losing an arm, tea cup and all.
As I see it, we have two options:
1. We stage an intervention with Charlie and admonish him that it's time to drop the pussy routine and start representin' for the croc nation. Don't play hopscotch with that stupid mouse. Eat that motherfucker! Keep it real, Charlie!
2. He dies. For the safety of our children, we cannot have some stupid cartoon croc behaving like a pansy and talking like a drunk two-year-old on national television. That shit ain't right.
I hope I can count on your support in my crusade against this menace.
