Mrs. Chips, neo-hippie pain in my ass, and furry-lover.

I'm pleased to announce that everyone in my immediate family has successfully avoided seeing  the James Cameron ode to Al Gore, Earth Day and "Man is a Gaia-raping beast," agenda-laden,smoking turd on celluliod, "Avatar." While I appreciate LabRat's reasoned and cerebral review, Stingray's profanity-laden evaluation of the film spoke to my fucking soul.

However, my in-laws saw it and loved it. (In fact, my FIL was edging in on one of those pathetic souls who was depressed that Pandora wasn't actually a real place, and that we could never have a true Pandora-like planet ourselves because DE EEBIL RETHUGLICAN CHENEYBOTS WHO HATE THE PLANET would cockblock it into eternity. William would have been able to retrieve fingerprint evidence from my tongue, I held that bad boy so hard.)

Now that it's out on DVD/Blu-Ray, the Verizon is pimping that shit On Demand like you would not believe.  In addition, I discovered that my son's kindergarten teacher -- the one I wish would spontaneously combust? -- thinks that it ought to be a road map to the future, and has been carefully telling her little charges what a special film it is, and how very important it is to see it and to make sure that their parents watch it very carefully, because the Na'vi have the kind of society that we should strive for, and it's the responsibility of all good little children who don't want to burn in Hell to work towards.

Gag me. Of course, I have (characteristically) been less than diplomatic in my response to my son spewing Mrs. Chips' propaganda at the dinner table. I think I've referred to the film as "White Guilt in 3D,"  "Dances with Smurfs,"Furries Vs. Colonial Space Marines," "Curiosity Killed the Kitty-people" and "That Movie with the Butt-kicking Colonel Who Ought to Be President."

Ocotpus Boy let this slip during class. Specifically, he said, "My mom says it's a hippe BS circle-spank, and she thinks you should stick to teaching the alphabet and be quiet about everything else 'cause she thinks you're you're full of it."

Ouch. Predictably, I Got A Call. A rather indignant call. Don't I love the planet? Don't I care what my children inherit? Don't I want to heal Mother Earth? Isn't it important that Octopus Boy learn to work with nature, rather than against it?

No. First of all, the movie is rated PG-13; my son is 6.The film is not age-appropriate. Second, I object to putting money in the pocket of James Cameron, who is fabulous at telling me what I ought to be giving up to save the planet, meanwhile he is busy creating his own carbon footprint the size of Godzilla's tail (or Michelle Obama's ass -- I am not sure which is bigger). Thirdly, the themes and the film and the subject as a whole are a Hell of a lot more complex than can be processed by a kindergartner.

In short, I told Mrs. Chips that my son had it entirely correct: I think she needs to shut up and teach him to read, write and figure, and leave the social engineering out of her lesson plans.

She hung up on me. Again.  Thank God school is out in one month.