History’s Mysteries: Walt Disney’s Head, Part 1

Walt Disney lived the American Dream.

Born into the squalor of middle class life, he faced many hardships; hardships that no baby should burden alone. But those first, lonely, hard years of his life did not build character so much as reveal it.

The Chicago, Illinois of 1901 was much different than the Chicago of 2009. Or even 2001. Or hell, 1975. I think that’s the year it finally changed but don’t quote me on that. Point is, 1901 Chi-town was more of a fetid, Dickensian nightmare than a habitable metropolis. It was here among the abject poverty and boxcars on top of boxcars crammed with rotting cow flesh, that a spunky little rat-faced baby named Walter Elias Disney “fell out” and began his life journey.

Back in those days the only people who called themselves artists were renowned homosexuals or unabashedly French. Men like Felix Copperfield or Jacques Marcel Gazelle Lafayette de Calonne, who could mince into any city and start their own gallery, men of the era of whom Disney first dreamed of. Baby Walt had always admired the do-all-and-everything bravado of such gallant men, and wished to be with them, but his father would not have a gay French dandy as offspring.

He wished his son to grow up like the men he admired, the men who worked a factory job with him. Tired, salt of the earth men, who slaved away their lives for the company’s sake, under incredibly unsafe machinery, crooked bosses, and a ton of fart jokes. He wished for his son to one day be a hardened, wizen old man, amongst the ranks of legends of the conveyor belt; men like 8-Finger Fitzpatrick, Black Steve, and “The Man They Just Call Swifty”.

If Baby Walt showed any artistic talent, his proclivity would be gently curbed by his well-meaning father. For minor things like wall scribbles or cooed lullabies, Baby Walt was subjected to beatings by his father. Day after day, every day, when he came home from work at the Meat Cannery, did his father whip the shit out of with an old hickory stick until Walt turned 5.

Walt’s only outlet for his rage was his drawings. In 1906, he created the first Mickey Mouse drawing; a proto-Mickey grabbing his dick and sneering. It was an attempted caricature of his father, his demon tormentor, drawn as a hideous, clawed rat. Lacking proper artistic supplies, he drew it on a piece of old garbage with rat feces, both of which were more than abundant around his little 2-room shack next to the county dump.

How could he realize at that moment that his literal and metaphorical shit drawing would launch a media empire and billion dollar international corporation that would change the face of western civilization forever?

The all powerful, soulless, consuming beast that is the Walt Disney Company descended upon man like a plague, raping the Good Earth of its resources and corrupting the hearts of all.

And lo, did Gaia, the spirit of the Earth, no longer stood the terrible destruction of our planet. She sent 5 special rings to 5 special young people: Kwame, from Africa, with the power of Earth; from North America, Wheeler, with the power of fire; from the Soviet Union, Linka, with the power of wind; from Asia, Gi, with the power of water, and from South America, Mahttee, with the power of heart. When the 5 powers combined, the summon Earth’s greatest champion – Captain Planet!

And yay, did Captain Planet fall too in the face of opposition, from the Disney Company’s army of robotic pirates wielding the spines of 3rd world sweat shop slaves like mace.

This was all activated by Baron Von Strauss after the Operation: Long Winter mishap, right before the second Clone War, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start at the real beginning.







Comming soon: "History's Mysteries: Walt Disney's Head, Part 2"