Having sampled both "Treasure Planet" the movie and "Treasure Planet" the McDonald's Happy Meal, I'm electing to review the Happy Meal.
Didn't Happy Meals used to come in a box? Now they just print a few lame puzzles on a paper bag. Hey kids, see if you can finish the space-maze so space-adventurer Jim Hawkins (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) can guide his space-windsurfer past the space-pirates and make it back to his space-galleon. Hey kids, color this picture of the lobotomized robot (Martin Short) because it's cheaper for us to print it in black and white! Meanwhile, there's no indication anywhere on the bag that the movie's triumphant denouement is marked by an anthropomorphic canine scientist (David Hyde Pierce) eagerly impregnating the anthropomorphic feline ship captain (Emma Thompson), tragically missing an opportunity to market to a whole subculture of screwed-up weirdos who probably eat at McDonald's four or five times a day.
Upon opening this glittering wrapper to undress the culinary cornucopia encased within, I was greeted by the sight of a limpid, miniature burger patty sitting lost in a sea of bun like a metaphor for alienation. You could almost taste the rich mix of the innards and hormones of hundreds, if not thousands, of terrified cattle funneled through the cold indiscriminate steel of an upper Midwest slaughterhouse. Mounting a valiant but hopeless defense against this sodden mediocrity stood a single pickle slice, lying in a pool of ketchup as though it had been shot.
The fries looked like they'd been sitting under a heat lamp collecting ambient grease since the opening of the first McDonald's in 1955. In a nod to health concerns, most fast food restaurants recently stopped cooking their fries in human fat shipped in from the local liposuction clinic, and frankly it's a damn shame. McDonald's fries used to be good only for the first 15 minutes until they got cold. Now, you pretty much have to stuff the entire super-sized box into your mouth before you leave the drive-thru or the effect is akin to chewing on a severed finger that's been left out in the snow.
And the toy. Don't get me started on the toy. What is it in the cheap plastic toys that gives off that acrid stink? Is that the dioxin solvent or the plutonium base? (I'm sure McDonald's has them manufactured in China because of that country's stringent environmental regulations.) One look at the toy -- the space-pirate John Silver (Brian Murray) in this case -- and you can picture its grim future: five minutes of plastic fun, five months gathering dust under little Timmy's bed, then five billion years in a fucking landfill. Apparently, I'm supposed to come back no fewer than eight times to collect all the pieces required to build my three-dimensional "space-map" so that those can spend five billion years in a fucking landfill too.
After about two bites of this crap, I fed the rest of it to the dog. It certainly seemed to make him happy. Then he spent the next two days crapping streams of green foam into my front yard while passing joggers gagged from the stench. Whether you're talking about the movie or the Happy Meal (and really, what's the difference?), I wouldn't feed kids this kind of trash. I wouldn't feed myself this kind of the trash. And I don't see why you would, either.
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