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Message
Posted on 8/13/26 at 6:08 pm to DesScorp
Stuff like this is why normal people laugh at leftists and consider them collectively to be both batshit crazy and quite stupid.
Posted on 8/13/26 at 6:28 pm to Weekend Warrior79
quote:
Yea, but it should balance out since only 1 of them are white.
Plus, I'm pretty sure the first 2 addons were both females
And the mayor is a Black woman.
Posted on 8/13/26 at 6:54 pm to DesScorp
quote:
Hell, the politics were the least of it.
And the left wonders why we call them groomers.
That article was also infamous for containing extremely dangerous medical disinformation. Receptive anal is the highest risk form of sex which is why gay men have high HIV rates.
Posted on 8/13/26 at 8:09 pm to DesScorp
Nothing to worry about, just Marxist agitators posing as “journalists” doing their part to undermine the very fabric of our social cohesion.
Carry on.
Carry on.
Posted on 8/13/26 at 8:47 pm to Sterling Archer
quote:
They must have some wealthy benefactor that supplying all of their high end technology.
The machinery does cost, yes. But the power itself comes from the magic meteor.
Posted on 8/13/26 at 10:09 pm to Barbellthor
My older daughter, about to turn 4, loves paw patrol. My wife(no pics) is a former cop and I've been a FF/EMT for 25 years, so she didn't really have a chance because I'm pretty sure we picked it for the first cartoon she ever saw.
Even while we were still dating, my wife and I did a Spartan race with the team name Paw Patrol and color-coded shirts for everybody.
It's a good kids show that stays pretty wholesome, IMO. Even with the female characters, my daughter's favorite characters are still Chase and Marshall. She has tons of paw patrol toys and still plays with those two the most. Her favorite kite has Chase on it. She does like Ghosty on Spidey and Friends and asks for new Ghosty pajamas when she outgrows an old pair.
It's a good kids show that stays pretty wholesome, IMO. Even with the female characters, my daughter's favorite characters are still Chase and Marshall. She has tons of paw patrol toys and still plays with those two the most. Her favorite kite has Chase on it. She does like Ghosty on Spidey and Friends and asks for new Ghosty pajamas when she outgrows an old pair.
Posted on 8/13/26 at 10:23 pm to Warfox
Easy solution. No one click on an Economist link or article for 40 days and layoffs happen.
Posted on 8/14/26 at 1:19 am to DesScorp
I thought Paw Patrol was already canceled during the Covid and BLM year?
Some BS about being pro police and pro law-enforcement, so it was racist
Are they rehashing this again? Have they run out of stuff to be angry about that they’re circling back to shite from six years ago???
Some BS about being pro police and pro law-enforcement, so it was racist
Are they rehashing this again? Have they run out of stuff to be angry about that they’re circling back to shite from six years ago???
Posted on 8/14/26 at 3:16 am to DesScorp
They should have a black pit bull on there who commits a disproportionate amount of the crimes
Posted on 8/14/26 at 3:51 am to GoShoughYourself
quote:
Are they rehashing this again? Have they run out of stuff to be angry about that they’re circling back to shite from six years ago???
There’s a new movie coming out for theatrical release
Posted on 8/14/26 at 6:29 am to stuckintexas
quote:
She does like Ghosty on Spidey and Friends
Team Spidey was the Crack of choice for our daughter, and it's still kind 1B, but Paw Patrol took the cake. We try not to let her watch too much of either so as to not screw up her dopamine receptors early, but man I love me some Mayor Humdinger.
He's an absolute dolt in a hilarious way. According to my wife, he's the bad guy. Which he is lol. My baby will hold my nose so I do the nasally Humdinger voice.
This post was edited on 8/14/26 at 2:11 pm
Posted on 8/14/26 at 6:58 am to DesScorp
Where is the trans dog? Not enough minority dogs that brown people can relate to…blah, blah, blah…..these people are insufferable.
Posted on 8/14/26 at 7:13 am to DesScorp
All 6 doggy style and not one missionary. Dark and stinky underbelly indeed.
Posted on 8/14/26 at 9:16 am to DesScorp
Here's the article.
They may look like a pack of cutesy anthropomorphised dogs. “No job is too big,” vows their heartwarming motto, “no pup’s too small!” Don’t be fooled: some say the cartoon heroes of “Paw Patrol” are covert outriders for authoritarian capitalism. “Keep trying, everybody makes mistakes,” a winsome character urges in their latest outing, “Paw Patrol: the Dino Movie”. The haters have a slogan too: “Defund the Paw Patrol!”
If you haven’t had a pre-school child (or been one) since “Paw Patrol” first aired on tv in 2013, it may have passed you by. But it is a world-conquering juggernaut, spanning more than a dozen seasons, a toy empire and now three theatrical film releases. Critics—perhaps including parents aggrieved at enduring so much schlock—have avidly dissected its subliminal messages. Hearing about this is like coming late to the manosphere; both, you find, are amazingly popular and allegedly pernicious.
For the blissfully uninitiated: the show is set in idyllic but slightly creepy Adventure Bay, where children drive and puppies talk. Led by a lavishly quiffed ten-year-old boy, a group of heroic pups respond to mild emergencies, setting off down a fun slide at their hq. It is utterly formulaic, with incessant catchphrases (“Paw Patrol is on a roll!”) and appalling earworm music. “A children’s story which is enjoyed only by children”, wrote C.S. Lewis, “is a bad children’s story.” He would not have liked “Paw Patrol”.
The main baddies are a guy called Humdinger and his villainous kittens (the franchise is an extended libel against cats). In the first movie, he takes over the metropolis of Adventure City and installs rollercoaster loops in the subway. In the second, a fallen meteor gives the pups magic powers. In the new film they wash up on an island inhabited by dinosaurs: some huge, some petite and sweet, none apparently carnivorous. Humdinger covets the island’s diamonds.
Superficially, if “Paw Patrol” has politics, they are clunkily left-wing. Humdinger is a blond narcissist who has his own plane, builds a phallic tower and disdains “free and fair elections” and the law. The pups protect the environment as well as people and creatures; they are surprisingly keen on recycling. The saccharine morals—about teamwork, facing your fears and other such soppy uplift—are vaguely leftish in today’s dog-eat-dog world.
But that may just be what they want you to think. Of the main gang of six pups, some critics note, only one is a girl, whose outfit and even eyes are pink. Worse, the top dog, Chase, is a police pup, so the whole thing is pro-police “copaganda”. Actually, since the patrol are unaccountable freelancers to whom a ditzy mayor defers, it is a sly advert for privatised state services. (Their funds come from merchandising, runs a winking joke—which may grate with those forking out for it.)
In short, fulminated a Guardian commentator, “Paw Patrol” is “authoritarian neoliberal propaganda”. An academic reckoned it “encourages complicity in a global capitalist system that (re)produces inequalities”. Rallying to the show’s defence, a former White House spokesperson wrongly claimed it had been cancelled. It is very tempting to dismiss the whole debate as killjoy hogwash and culture-war lunacy.
Tempting, but mistaken. It isn’t only that. There is, after all, a reason dictators try to control the stories told to the young. “Give me the child until he is seven”, the Jesuits’ founder supposedly said, “and I will show you the man.” Books, films and, yes, cartoons impart values and lessons. A sensation like “Paw Patrol” is doing a lot of imparting, and evidently resonating with youngsters everywhere. The takeaways of a critical theorist, however, may not be those of a four-year-old unfamiliar with Ayn Rand.
To understand the deep meaning of “Paw Patrol”, the best tool may not be ideology but psychoanalysis. One of its tenets is that many children want desperately to heal their parents, partly for their own well-being, sometimes taking on parental roles themselves. This is the psychic backdrop to tales of young protagonists fixing grown-up woes, from Enid Blyton to Harry Potter. The “Paw Patrol” generation have overheard their parents freaking out about politics, war, inflation, the coronavirus and climate change. The action is stuffed with pre-school wish fulfilment, as the pups—avatars for the viewers—eat unlimited treats and play unsupervised with super-cool kit. Perhaps another wish it powerfully fulfils is for kids to be able to solve their elders’ problems. No pup’s too small to notice them.
They may look like a pack of cutesy anthropomorphised dogs. “No job is too big,” vows their heartwarming motto, “no pup’s too small!” Don’t be fooled: some say the cartoon heroes of “Paw Patrol” are covert outriders for authoritarian capitalism. “Keep trying, everybody makes mistakes,” a winsome character urges in their latest outing, “Paw Patrol: the Dino Movie”. The haters have a slogan too: “Defund the Paw Patrol!”
If you haven’t had a pre-school child (or been one) since “Paw Patrol” first aired on tv in 2013, it may have passed you by. But it is a world-conquering juggernaut, spanning more than a dozen seasons, a toy empire and now three theatrical film releases. Critics—perhaps including parents aggrieved at enduring so much schlock—have avidly dissected its subliminal messages. Hearing about this is like coming late to the manosphere; both, you find, are amazingly popular and allegedly pernicious.
For the blissfully uninitiated: the show is set in idyllic but slightly creepy Adventure Bay, where children drive and puppies talk. Led by a lavishly quiffed ten-year-old boy, a group of heroic pups respond to mild emergencies, setting off down a fun slide at their hq. It is utterly formulaic, with incessant catchphrases (“Paw Patrol is on a roll!”) and appalling earworm music. “A children’s story which is enjoyed only by children”, wrote C.S. Lewis, “is a bad children’s story.” He would not have liked “Paw Patrol”.
The main baddies are a guy called Humdinger and his villainous kittens (the franchise is an extended libel against cats). In the first movie, he takes over the metropolis of Adventure City and installs rollercoaster loops in the subway. In the second, a fallen meteor gives the pups magic powers. In the new film they wash up on an island inhabited by dinosaurs: some huge, some petite and sweet, none apparently carnivorous. Humdinger covets the island’s diamonds.
Superficially, if “Paw Patrol” has politics, they are clunkily left-wing. Humdinger is a blond narcissist who has his own plane, builds a phallic tower and disdains “free and fair elections” and the law. The pups protect the environment as well as people and creatures; they are surprisingly keen on recycling. The saccharine morals—about teamwork, facing your fears and other such soppy uplift—are vaguely leftish in today’s dog-eat-dog world.
But that may just be what they want you to think. Of the main gang of six pups, some critics note, only one is a girl, whose outfit and even eyes are pink. Worse, the top dog, Chase, is a police pup, so the whole thing is pro-police “copaganda”. Actually, since the patrol are unaccountable freelancers to whom a ditzy mayor defers, it is a sly advert for privatised state services. (Their funds come from merchandising, runs a winking joke—which may grate with those forking out for it.)
In short, fulminated a Guardian commentator, “Paw Patrol” is “authoritarian neoliberal propaganda”. An academic reckoned it “encourages complicity in a global capitalist system that (re)produces inequalities”. Rallying to the show’s defence, a former White House spokesperson wrongly claimed it had been cancelled. It is very tempting to dismiss the whole debate as killjoy hogwash and culture-war lunacy.
Tempting, but mistaken. It isn’t only that. There is, after all, a reason dictators try to control the stories told to the young. “Give me the child until he is seven”, the Jesuits’ founder supposedly said, “and I will show you the man.” Books, films and, yes, cartoons impart values and lessons. A sensation like “Paw Patrol” is doing a lot of imparting, and evidently resonating with youngsters everywhere. The takeaways of a critical theorist, however, may not be those of a four-year-old unfamiliar with Ayn Rand.
To understand the deep meaning of “Paw Patrol”, the best tool may not be ideology but psychoanalysis. One of its tenets is that many children want desperately to heal their parents, partly for their own well-being, sometimes taking on parental roles themselves. This is the psychic backdrop to tales of young protagonists fixing grown-up woes, from Enid Blyton to Harry Potter. The “Paw Patrol” generation have overheard their parents freaking out about politics, war, inflation, the coronavirus and climate change. The action is stuffed with pre-school wish fulfilment, as the pups—avatars for the viewers—eat unlimited treats and play unsupervised with super-cool kit. Perhaps another wish it powerfully fulfils is for kids to be able to solve their elders’ problems. No pup’s too small to notice them.
Posted on 8/14/26 at 9:16 am to DesScorp
Here's the article.
They may look like a pack of cutesy anthropomorphised dogs. “No job is too big,” vows their heartwarming motto, “no pup’s too small!” Don’t be fooled: some say the cartoon heroes of “Paw Patrol” are covert outriders for authoritarian capitalism. “Keep trying, everybody makes mistakes,” a winsome character urges in their latest outing, “Paw Patrol: the Dino Movie”. The haters have a slogan too: “Defund the Paw Patrol!”
If you haven’t had a pre-school child (or been one) since “Paw Patrol” first aired on tv in 2013, it may have passed you by. But it is a world-conquering juggernaut, spanning more than a dozen seasons, a toy empire and now three theatrical film releases. Critics—perhaps including parents aggrieved at enduring so much schlock—have avidly dissected its subliminal messages. Hearing about this is like coming late to the manosphere; both, you find, are amazingly popular and allegedly pernicious.
For the blissfully uninitiated: the show is set in idyllic but slightly creepy Adventure Bay, where children drive and puppies talk. Led by a lavishly quiffed ten-year-old boy, a group of heroic pups respond to mild emergencies, setting off down a fun slide at their hq. It is utterly formulaic, with incessant catchphrases (“Paw Patrol is on a roll!”) and appalling earworm music. “A children’s story which is enjoyed only by children”, wrote C.S. Lewis, “is a bad children’s story.” He would not have liked “Paw Patrol”.
The main baddies are a guy called Humdinger and his villainous kittens (the franchise is an extended libel against cats). In the first movie, he takes over the metropolis of Adventure City and installs rollercoaster loops in the subway. In the second, a fallen meteor gives the pups magic powers. In the new film they wash up on an island inhabited by dinosaurs: some huge, some petite and sweet, none apparently carnivorous. Humdinger covets the island’s diamonds.
Superficially, if “Paw Patrol” has politics, they are clunkily left-wing. Humdinger is a blond narcissist who has his own plane, builds a phallic tower and disdains “free and fair elections” and the law. The pups protect the environment as well as people and creatures; they are surprisingly keen on recycling. The saccharine morals—about teamwork, facing your fears and other such soppy uplift—are vaguely leftish in today’s dog-eat-dog world.
But that may just be what they want you to think. Of the main gang of six pups, some critics note, only one is a girl, whose outfit and even eyes are pink. Worse, the top dog, Chase, is a police pup, so the whole thing is pro-police “copaganda”. Actually, since the patrol are unaccountable freelancers to whom a ditzy mayor defers, it is a sly advert for privatised state services. (Their funds come from merchandising, runs a winking joke—which may grate with those forking out for it.)
In short, fulminated a Guardian commentator, “Paw Patrol” is “authoritarian neoliberal propaganda”. An academic reckoned it “encourages complicity in a global capitalist system that (re)produces inequalities”. Rallying to the show’s defence, a former White House spokesperson wrongly claimed it had been cancelled. It is very tempting to dismiss the whole debate as killjoy hogwash and culture-war lunacy.
Tempting, but mistaken. It isn’t only that. There is, after all, a reason dictators try to control the stories told to the young. “Give me the child until he is seven”, the Jesuits’ founder supposedly said, “and I will show you the man.” Books, films and, yes, cartoons impart values and lessons. A sensation like “Paw Patrol” is doing a lot of imparting, and evidently resonating with youngsters everywhere. The takeaways of a critical theorist, however, may not be those of a four-year-old unfamiliar with Ayn Rand.
To understand the deep meaning of “Paw Patrol”, the best tool may not be ideology but psychoanalysis. One of its tenets is that many children want desperately to heal their parents, partly for their own well-being, sometimes taking on parental roles themselves. This is the psychic backdrop to tales of young protagonists fixing grown-up woes, from Enid Blyton to Harry Potter. The “Paw Patrol” generation have overheard their parents freaking out about politics, war, inflation, the coronavirus and climate change. The action is stuffed with pre-school wish fulfilment, as the pups—avatars for the viewers—eat unlimited treats and play unsupervised with super-cool kit. Perhaps another wish it powerfully fulfils is for kids to be able to solve their elders’ problems. No pup’s too small to notice them.
They may look like a pack of cutesy anthropomorphised dogs. “No job is too big,” vows their heartwarming motto, “no pup’s too small!” Don’t be fooled: some say the cartoon heroes of “Paw Patrol” are covert outriders for authoritarian capitalism. “Keep trying, everybody makes mistakes,” a winsome character urges in their latest outing, “Paw Patrol: the Dino Movie”. The haters have a slogan too: “Defund the Paw Patrol!”
If you haven’t had a pre-school child (or been one) since “Paw Patrol” first aired on tv in 2013, it may have passed you by. But it is a world-conquering juggernaut, spanning more than a dozen seasons, a toy empire and now three theatrical film releases. Critics—perhaps including parents aggrieved at enduring so much schlock—have avidly dissected its subliminal messages. Hearing about this is like coming late to the manosphere; both, you find, are amazingly popular and allegedly pernicious.
For the blissfully uninitiated: the show is set in idyllic but slightly creepy Adventure Bay, where children drive and puppies talk. Led by a lavishly quiffed ten-year-old boy, a group of heroic pups respond to mild emergencies, setting off down a fun slide at their hq. It is utterly formulaic, with incessant catchphrases (“Paw Patrol is on a roll!”) and appalling earworm music. “A children’s story which is enjoyed only by children”, wrote C.S. Lewis, “is a bad children’s story.” He would not have liked “Paw Patrol”.
The main baddies are a guy called Humdinger and his villainous kittens (the franchise is an extended libel against cats). In the first movie, he takes over the metropolis of Adventure City and installs rollercoaster loops in the subway. In the second, a fallen meteor gives the pups magic powers. In the new film they wash up on an island inhabited by dinosaurs: some huge, some petite and sweet, none apparently carnivorous. Humdinger covets the island’s diamonds.
Superficially, if “Paw Patrol” has politics, they are clunkily left-wing. Humdinger is a blond narcissist who has his own plane, builds a phallic tower and disdains “free and fair elections” and the law. The pups protect the environment as well as people and creatures; they are surprisingly keen on recycling. The saccharine morals—about teamwork, facing your fears and other such soppy uplift—are vaguely leftish in today’s dog-eat-dog world.
But that may just be what they want you to think. Of the main gang of six pups, some critics note, only one is a girl, whose outfit and even eyes are pink. Worse, the top dog, Chase, is a police pup, so the whole thing is pro-police “copaganda”. Actually, since the patrol are unaccountable freelancers to whom a ditzy mayor defers, it is a sly advert for privatised state services. (Their funds come from merchandising, runs a winking joke—which may grate with those forking out for it.)
In short, fulminated a Guardian commentator, “Paw Patrol” is “authoritarian neoliberal propaganda”. An academic reckoned it “encourages complicity in a global capitalist system that (re)produces inequalities”. Rallying to the show’s defence, a former White House spokesperson wrongly claimed it had been cancelled. It is very tempting to dismiss the whole debate as killjoy hogwash and culture-war lunacy.
Tempting, but mistaken. It isn’t only that. There is, after all, a reason dictators try to control the stories told to the young. “Give me the child until he is seven”, the Jesuits’ founder supposedly said, “and I will show you the man.” Books, films and, yes, cartoons impart values and lessons. A sensation like “Paw Patrol” is doing a lot of imparting, and evidently resonating with youngsters everywhere. The takeaways of a critical theorist, however, may not be those of a four-year-old unfamiliar with Ayn Rand.
To understand the deep meaning of “Paw Patrol”, the best tool may not be ideology but psychoanalysis. One of its tenets is that many children want desperately to heal their parents, partly for their own well-being, sometimes taking on parental roles themselves. This is the psychic backdrop to tales of young protagonists fixing grown-up woes, from Enid Blyton to Harry Potter. The “Paw Patrol” generation have overheard their parents freaking out about politics, war, inflation, the coronavirus and climate change. The action is stuffed with pre-school wish fulfilment, as the pups—avatars for the viewers—eat unlimited treats and play unsupervised with super-cool kit. Perhaps another wish it powerfully fulfils is for kids to be able to solve their elders’ problems. No pup’s too small to notice them.

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