dreadedcandiru2 (dreadedcandiru2) wrote,

Scooby Doo, What Are You?

Before I get to the point of this post, I'd like to talk about what life is like for the typical creep in the mask. Let's say that you are Kindly Old Man Jenkins and that you know that somewhere in the nearby woods, there's the proceeds of a bank robbery just waiting for an enterprising fellow such as yourself to latch on to so as to make your declining years a bit easier. The cops have no idea where it is and, hey, who's to know where the cash came from? There's a catch, though; you can't be seen to look for it or else you'd get competition and, well, the local constabulary would get wise. Suddenly, you remember that people talk about some sort of supernatural creature that prowls around and you think "Gonna make me a costume so's I can go treasure hunting in private". Things are going great until four teenagers go poking around trying to get between you and a comfy retirement; as you're being escorted to the squad car, you keep telling yourself you would have gotten away clean despite the trap that Wile E Coyote would have laughed his ass off at were it not for one factor that you'd forgotten. It looked like you had the upper hand, too; the muscle-bound kid with the ascot was occupied trying to free the ungainly hottie with the red hair from the trap she'd sprung on herself and the girl from True Grit and the hippie collided with one another because she'd lost her glasses and can't see without'em. Surely, you can escape these idiots; maybe you can even mess'em up a trifle to remind them to mind their own business. Whatever it is that you've forgotten will surely occur to you on the Costa Del Sol. Then, you hear the sound that ends your sweet little dreams of unearned wealth; the most off-putting, terrifying sound you've ever heard: an unholy cross between the yelping of an animal and a very human cry of alarm and, too late, you remember, as a furry, babbling projectile slams you to the ground, that the kids, who by now have righted themselves and unmasked you in front of Sheriff Samuel "Knucklehead" Rogers, have a dog. Said dog seems to be part Great Dane, part bloodhound, part musk ox and all chicken and has an unusual and slightly creepy tendency: he speaks English with a dog accent. The odd thing is that your cellmate, Carswell, has also encountered the kids and their ungainly mongrel; the two of you compare notes and come to the conclusion that their fearlessness comes from travelling with one of Nature's crueler mistakes.

Now that I've described how I think that the people in the Scoobyverse see the title character, it's sort of time to remind us what it is that the children watching find appealing about him. He's sort of dumb, he's fairly cowardly and his first instinct is to flee from the goofola in the suit; despite all this, he can be and is a hero. For a child who feels weak, powerless and stupid a lot of the time, that's a fairly reassuring thing. Sure, Scooby is kind of greedy and doesn't get the point of the mysteries but that's not really the point; the point is that, before they turned him into the Fetish Fuel Station Attendant for furries and bestiality junkies, he wasn't loaded down with jealousy and passive-aggressive bitchery. Granted, he seems to have realized that being Lizardbreath is for idiots but it doesn't seem to be doing him much good.
Tags: mysteries five

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