Confessions of a Disney Nerd
Indulging in media ecology elicits in me delusions of grandeur that I am a thoughtful person – one who is mindful of the shaping of perspectives and perceptions. So, I constantly think about form. I think about its attempted and achieved purpose. I think about its current and consequential influence on the person and on society. Marshall McLuhan’s “the medium is the message” is my mantra. I ask: “How or to what extent does [insert a form of intellectual technology here] or the way I use it shape or affect the kind of thinker, reader, writer, communicator, friend, citizen, disciple that I am?”
Why I do this is, of course, a matter of personal interest. However, it is more so a matter of conscience. It is a matter of being conscious of how our culture subconsciously shapes us. (Thus, equipping one with both the option and capacity to respond defensively and offensively.)
My delusions of grandeur are shattered – thwarted by the blue-tipped towers of Disney. My mind willfully and gleefully assumes an incapacitated state, whereupon I sing and squeal and cry and dance and cheer mesmerizingly along with Aladdin and Cinderella and Robin Hood and Peter Pan. I do not think about Disney; I consume Disney. Their choice of form – visually-stimulating, musically-inclined animated versions of beloved folklore – has built for them an empire of which I am one among many who have been held emotionally captive and captivated, and will forever be. Their form of branding is to permeate homes through the young that will eagerly succumb to that Mouse without thought, even when they are twenty-two years old and all grown up. I applaud thee, O Great Disney. For you are the Pied Piper of minds.