I will always be a kid at heart, despite my outer shield of jaded cynicism.

Growing up on Nickelodeon and the Walt Disney franchise plus living in a fairly skeptical family I’ve become the embodiment of the mother’s dislike of corporate America and the glitz and glow of the front window of Toys R Us (when it was still around) during Christmas.

I always feel like I’ve betrayed my roots when I go on a materialistic splurge. Especially when I head to the headquarters of all that is money crazed, materialistic hub of plastic toys, accessories and DVDs for the young and those who choose never to grow up: Disneyland.

Just the mention of that place makes my mom scowl. So, when I told her I was heading over to the Land of Dreams and life sized moving cartoons to celebrate my friend’s birthday she simply gave an encouraging smile… which really meant: “Oh God, here we go again.”

I imagine her mind rewinding back to when I was eight-years-old and I rented Sleeping Beauty from BlockBuster so many times the tape started to look worn, or how I reenacted the opening of The Little Mermaid in my living room. I wonder if a small, microscopic piece of her wonders if watching all those Disney movies literally brainwashed me into mass Disney consumer that permanently dented her checking account.

If so, then this may be the one thing that my mom and the Catholic Church agree on.

It is kind of hard not to agree. The Disney franchise is built on getting young people (and their parents) to put down a lot of money for merchandise of their favorite movie characters. But I can’t hate on the merchandise based on the movies from my distant, distant childhood – only for sentimental reasons. And the fact that I can never find a Sleeping Beauty accessory in a blue dress – the way it was meant to be!

Ahem… anyway…

However, I have no love for the new generation of Disney movies, characters and their merchandise. Hannah Montana is just too much, and High School Musical makes me physical ill.

I will shamelessly buy (the classic) Disney products only because the eight-year-old in me never had a debit card. But trust me, I’d rather drink the Kool-aid then be caught dead with one of ugly pillows with the blown up faces of the new generation of Disney actors/singers/sellouts. I do have a little bit of my soul left.

Well… more or less.
—Eming Piansay