The Tigger Movie
The whole thing plays out like the cheap seats at a NASCAR race.
Parents and children alike should be incredibly suspicious of Winnie the Pooh. After all, this is a character who exists in a world of make believe and doesn't wear any pants. Why is this? Does he have three nipples but no penis? It's pretty obvious that Winnie the Pooh is some kind of profound sexual deviant.
Fortunately, this film isn't as much about Pooh as it is about his friend, that cocksucker Tigger. Tigger appears to be on drugs, because he bounces all over the Hundred Acre Wood like a Superball shot from a bazooka. He also has these rather offensive phrases like "TTFN," which he says stands for "tah tah for now," but sounds an awful lot like "titty fuckin'" when he says it quickly. As if this weren't enough, Tigger attempts to murder Eeyore. He accidentally rolls a big rock onto Eeyore's house, and the fat fucking donkey just barely escapes. The whole thing plays out like the cheap seats at a NASCAR race.
This near-murder compels Tigger to search for his family, which in turn compels Pooh, Piglet, Roo and Owl to deceive Tigger by writing him a letter that sounds like it's from others in the Tigger clan. Some fucking friends. They should have just shoved a goddamn skewer through Tigger's puckered bouncy butthole and barbecued him until he was extra crispy. That motherfucking Pooh is always complaining that he's hungry and his bitch Piglet is always sniveling about being cold, so it would have served a dual purpose.
To some degree, I actually sympathize with Tigger. How he stands living with these mentally challenged animals is anybody's guess. Pooh, Piglet and Eeyore form sentences slower than George W. Bush before his morning eight-ball. And that little kiss-ass, Roo, won't stop following Tigger around. Tigger should have punted his punk ass into a wall. When Pooh's owner, Christopher Robin, finally sobers up enough to stagger in at the end, we realize just where all this crap has emanated from -- the mind of a thin, androgynous, prissily-dressed English boy. Well, no wonder.
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