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THE ADVENTURES OF TINTIN - Aka...The Original Indiana Jones meets Let There Be Blood


By King Hippo - Posted on 20 February 2012

So...after all these years of waiting; after the dreadful cartoon series; after foreign live action films. My childhood hero comes to life under the auspices of Messrs.’ Spielberg and Jackson.

I have to say that my expectations were high, what, with Spielberg and Jacksons' resumes.

And, of course, as with all facets of my life, I was sorely disappointed.

To the average plebian movie-goer, this was probably a very entertaining flick...A lot of people think that Tintin is just a "cartoon" - that he's just another Marvel or DC comic character...The thing is - I hold Tintin sacred...sacred.

The way a farmer looks at the earth and holds it sacred.

The way a Christian looks at the bible and holds it sacred.

The way Jews hold a kosher dog on a bun and holds it sacred.

The way some people hold marriage sacred…unlike Dan Cedar.

An acquaintance who saw Tintin told me that it was "rollicking good fun."

Is he right? I know that's the popular sentiment of most people who saw the movie. I know that's what most people publicly say about the movie...I wish I could confirm that sentiment, but I grew up on Tintin.

Like Spielberg grew up on kosher food and Jackson grew up on Jackalope.

What the hell does “kosher” even mean…My study of Wiki-Torah says the meat must be slaughtered by a Shochet (ritual slaughterer) in accordance with Jewish law and is entirely drained of blood. Before it is cooked it is soaked in water for half an hour, then placed on a perforated board and sprinkled with coarse salt (which draws out the blood) and left to sit for one hour. At the end of this time the salt is washed off and the meat is ready for cooking.

I don’t know what the hell an authentic Aborigine eats, but my guess is that Jackson wolfed down a lot of bloody Jackalope prior to the gastric bypass.

Today, a mixture of kosher meats and Jackalopes are purchased from a butcher or two. Preferably named Spielberg and Jackson. And they call it Tintin.

I'm not some slack jawed troglodyte…hoping I'm right, thinking about it...

I remember as a six year old becoming mesmerized by a Tintin serial in Children's Digest, right there in glorious black and white. And religiously checking the mailbox every day to see if the next issue arrived, hounding my parents to make sure my subscription was renewed so I would never miss an issue.

And when an issue was read, it was re-read and carefully filed away...while PUSSIES LIKE YOU WERE IN YOUR BASEMENTS PARTYING AND PUTTING YOUR HEADBANDS ON, DOING DRUGS AND LISTENING TO YOUR GODDAMN BEATLES ALBUMS! OHHHHHHHHHHH! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

After sharing an intimate detail about my childhood fantasy friend Tintin - A feisty skirt that I bagged in my early twenties referred to me, myself, King Hippo, as the inspiration for the character of Ralphie in A Christmas Story.

“No, honey, I retorted, “That four-eyed homo LISTENED to Little Fucking Orphan Annie on the radio. Duhhhh!!”

Coincidentally, that insolent little chloroform-loving-nymph was never to be heard from again.

King Hippo may not be a "Shochet", but I will let my bloodletting speak for itself.

Arrested. Prosecuted. And Acquitted.

Thank you very much.

So the Jew and the Aborigine decided to splice together three totally different Tintin stories, make wholesale changes in characterization, and leave the casting to Homer Simpson.

Bravo! Bravo!

I will have my BLT now.

Crispy with extra salt.

Thank you very much.

Three Naybob

King Hippo

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