Dear Pixar: Stop Making Me Cry Like A Bitch

I took my three-year-old to see Up the other day. We left after an hour because she didn't want to stick around (Thanks for burning my money, kid). But that hardly mattered.

Because, this time around, the people at Pixar didn't bother wasting time taking out my heart and tearing it to fucking pieces. They decided there was no point in waiting until the end of their little movie to turn me into a blubbering lump of shit. No, they had to do that shit RIGHT AWAY, packing in as much sad shit as they could into the first ten minutes of that fucking thing: aging, cancer, infertility, and death. Hey, thanks a lot, Pixar. Thanks for gutting my insides with a fish scraper. I really enjoyed that. Fucking infertility? In a movie about balloons? How is my Cambodian son Maddox Pax Zahara Pitt Magary supposed to feel about that, YOU FUCKS?

What the fuck is wrong with these people? I'm here to tell you folks out there that Pixar is not the sweet and wonderful little filmmaking giant that everyone makes them out to be. They are the single most sentimental, emotionally manipulative filmmaking entity to come along since Steven Spielberg was conceived by his parents.

These people are fucking sociopaths. They know damn well that all parents out there have been turned into oversensitive pussies thanks to the child rearing process. You should see the look in my eyes when I watch my kids laughing. I look like a goddamn AT&T ad. They know we'll cry the second we see some stupid fucking animal parent hug his stupid fucking animal kid. AND THEY USE THAT AGAINST US.

I realized this as my kid was forcing me to watch "Finding Nemo" for the 90th fucking time. There's that scene right at the end, right after Nemo's crazy clownjewfish dad (Nazi Shark does not approve of Albert Brooks voicing fish) rescues him and all that shit. There's that little scene where you think you're going to make it out of that fucking movie without crying. But noooo. No, they have little shithead Nemo come back into the picture juuust when you think the movie is over. "Oh, and Dad? Love you."

YOU FUCKING DICKS.

/dabs at cheeks with a chamois

YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO DO THAT SHIT.

/eats gallon of Cherry Garcia, grows vagina

WHY MUST YOU TOY WITH ME LIKE THIS?

Take a look at the entire Pixar filmography (Brad Bird's entries thankfully excepted, along with "Cars," because it's fucking terrible). They're all the same: sweet little toy/robot/old man/fish/monster/bug/lizard/dingo/paramecium has to go on some bigass adventure to rescue someone. Then everyone gets reunited. Then there's some gentle piano music. And then, you cry. You cry like the little bitch you are. It's a formula, deceptively packaged as innocent whimsy.

Well, I'm sorry. These movies are not whimsical. THEY ARE FUCKING DEVASTATING. You ever watch Toy Story 2, where the lesbian cowgirl is abandoned by her lesbian little girl owner? Forever? And they play that really sad Sarah Maclachlan song? And everyone in the theater starts bleeding saline out of their eyes? What is the point of that scene? Plot? Character development? No, I don't think so. I think the point of that scene was to reduce you to a quivering pile of emotional afterbirth. You went to go see a comedy about toys. You ended up halfway through flashing back to sitting at your grandma's bedside as she passed away. NO! GRANDMA! DON'T LEAVE ME! I'M NOT READY FOR YOU TO DIE YET! NOOOOOOO!!!!! Oh look! The dinosaur toy is on roller skates! I feel better now.

Worst of all, these Pixar movies are so well done, so meticulously animated and written, that they stand up over the test of time, which means you have to watch them again and again and again. It's horrible. Every time I watch Monsters, Inc., and they show that last scene where Sully opens the door and hears Boo giggle… I just get… (chokes up)… I don't wanna… (bursts into tears)… GOD FUCKING DAMMIT, WILL YOU JUST LET ME BE A MAN AGAIN, YOU JACKALS?! Honestly, these people may as well make me watch my grandpa die on a continuous loop. They should just film him in his hospital bed, with his pulse flatlining, add a nice Randy Newman song, and then force me to watch it over and over again.

Because that's what the really want to do, you know. No, God forbid they ever produce a straight comedy, one I can watch without turning my shirt into a roll of Bounty. No, then their fucking precious movie wouldn't be timeless. And timeless movies are ones that ruin your shit. You, the paying customer, must pay for your yuks. Oh, you like hijinks, do you? Well, they'll give you your hijinks, WITH A LITTLE BRAIN CANCER ON THE SIDE.

Seriously, get fucked Pixar. Next time, I'm taking my kid to that fucking Ice Age movie. It'll suck. But that'll be the only reason I cry. STOP MAKING ME WANT TO HOLD MY KIDS TIGHT AND TELL THEM HOW MUCH I LOVE THEM.