“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” wrote William Shakespeare. Yeah, sure, but if they were called “nose-cancer-causing shit buds,” who’d ever find out?
Similarly, if sinister murderous mercenary outfit Blackwater were called Nice Solutions, would they be in so much trouble? Better still, what if they called themselves Puppy? And dressed their employees in giant puppy outfits? Then instead of thinking: “Oh no! My entire family is being ruthlessly slaughtered by evil shaven-headed American storm troopers,” you’d just think, “Aw!”
Of course this works both ways. If the insurgents in Iraq ever figured out that all young Americans are deeply and irrevocably indoctrinated by arch cute-mongers Disney, the occupation would be over in weeks. The Iraqis would dress up as the Little Mermaid, Pocahontas, Mickey, Goofy, Lilo and Stitch, Winnie the Pooh and the Aristocats. And the Americans would be all like, “Aw!”—psychologically hamstrung and completely unable to shoot. Game over.
If cute ever fully realized its power, it would take over the world. Every week on the British comedy show Big Train, angry employees storm into the boss’ office demanding he alleviate their unbearable working conditions. And every week the boss distracts them by opening a desk drawer full of kittens or puppies. “Aw!” say the workers, all thought of class war evaporating in a warm and fuzzy haze. Similarly, in the British comedy show Trigger Happy TV, men in giant cute dog costumes beat, bludgeon and kick the shit out of each other in the street, and none of the many passersby does anything but stare blankly with does-not-compute written all over their confused faces. (But then they are English.)
What if pressure groups or political parties started dropping the cute bomb? What if the Republicans changed their name to Baby Elephants? Landslide every time, baby.
What if PETA changed its name to Aw Schnookums? Would we forget they’re a bunch of oh-so-punchable human-hating assholes who put out ads comparing chicken farming to the Holocaust? And just go “Aw!”? And give them money that would be better spent getting humans out of cages and feeding starving children rather than funding ad campaigns whose sole purpose is to make smug bourgeois tofu-munchers feel morally superior?
Actually, probably not. Cute is powerful, but it’s not omnipotent. If Adolf Hitler had been born Trixie Cuddlepaws, most folks would still have figured him out for a rotter in the long run. Hey, did I just compare PETA to the Nazis? Sure f--king did!
Way ahead of the cute loop is the anti-foie gras pressure group Hugs for Puppies. That’s a genius name for a group that protests food made out of force-fed goose livers. Because everybody likes puppies. They’re soft and cute and floppy and furry and boundlessly enthusiastic and unconditionally loving. While geese suck. Which is why Hugs for Goslings (the super uncute name for baby geese) would blow chunks.
Geese look like weird penises with beaks. They hiss and honk. F--k them. But puppies—aw!
George Bush, are you listening? If you can’t end the war, repay the deficit and clear up all the other huge steaming piles of evil-smelling green goose shit you’ve metaphorically dumped all over America and the rest of the world, at least give us a drawer full of kittens. Each. Then we’ll forgive you for everything.