What blue Smurfy hell hath UNICEF wrought?
The horror…the horror…
The short film pulls no punches. It opens with the Smurfs dancing, hand-in-hand, around a campfire and singing the Smurf song. Bluebirds flutter past and rabbits gambol around their familiar village of mushroom- shaped houses until, without warning, bombs begin to rain from the sky.
Tiny Smurfs scatter and run in vain from the whistling bombs, before being felled by blast waves and fiery explosions. The final scene shows a scorched and tattered Baby Smurf sobbing inconsolably, surrounded by prone Smurfs.
“Why? Why?”, shocked and awed Belgian viewers yelled as they saw the Smurf genocide unfold before them on their TV screens.
Julie Lamoureux, account director at Publicis for the campaign, said the agency’s original plans were toned down.
“We wanted something that was real war – Smurfs losing arms, or a Smurf losing a head -but they said no.”
Smurfageddon? Smurfpocalypse Now?
Relax, says UNICEF. It’s all part of a publicity campaign to bring home the message of the effects of war on children.
The final frame bears the message: “Don’t let war affect the lives of children.”
It’s only a cartoon. No Smurfs were seriously harmed during the making of the show. Stunt Smurfs suffered some scrapes and bruises but their animators are cleaning them up as we speak.
Bin Laden Smurf was apparently forewarned and escaped the village before the bombs were dropped. His whereabouts remain unknown.
John Bolton will condemn UNICEF’s ad as being directed at America…and James Dobson will claim that since there is only one female Smurf, that obviously the Smurfs exist to promote the gay agenda…
I want to see a cliplink of that when it comes out. Keep us informed.
I’ve read some interesting things explaining how the Smurfs were Communists. Papa Smurf was Marx.. I forget who was Trotsky, maybe Brainy Smurf.
I so totally love this shit. Takes me back to days of yesteryear.
“I love the smell of burning blue fur in the morning …”
catnip catnip, your smurf name is ‘Cuddly Smurf’. And you can call me ‘Very Uninteresting Smurf’.
Sigh. I was holding out for ‘Mildly Uninteresting Smurf’, but I am so full of myself.
If your only frame of reference is a 35 mm celluloid square of ‘Rio Bravo‘, it is always easy to watch the stuntmen get up and dust themselves off.
On the other hand it’s hard to argue with the primal joy of handing your opponents an anvil as they step off a cliff. Just remember they are scavengers at heart.
I am “Futzy Smurf” (who told them about my cleaning habits?), and the spouse is “Cletus the Slack-Jawed Smurf”….
that Auto Titles are boring (soo not directed at you).
Cletus the third Pope. Is the inability to close the mouth due to accident or is it congenital? My folks say I’ve always been uninteresting, the family argument is only about degree.
Futzy. I didn’t know and I sincerely respect your desire to get treatment.
What? The first hits on Google don’t represent the truth? Only if you’re a miserable failure I guess. Your cleaning habits are safe with me.
definition of “futzy” — in our household when we goof off instead of getting work done, we say that we “futz around”.
And the spouse is actually only slack-jawed when he’s falling asleep on the couch instead of getting ready for bed like a good boy…
awww….cuddly smurf? How cute is that?
Wait a minute…I’m a smurfette!!
. . . thou shalt have no other Smurfs before me.
(Full disclosure: that’s with my real name plugged in–with “sngmama sngmama” I’m “Drippy Smurf”. I like Yahweh better.)
Most disturbing thing since that episode of Mister Roger’s Neighborhood when there was an uprising against King Friday. I can still see Lady Elaine blasting away with her MP5 until her last clip was empty. And all the dead puppets piled on top of Trolley until he could hardly move.