Dear Six Flags Corporation,
I am part of a minority in America, in that I don’t have cable. Like the proud Somalians, I must resort to piracy if I am to fulfill my material and entertainment needs. That is, until last week when my TV inexplicably started having all the major network channels where once there was static. I guess the Somalian analogy there would be getting sniped in the face, but in a good way.
And though I have since been enjoying occasionally-flickering episodes of House and the Simpsons/Family Guy hybrid that The Simpsons has become, I’ve also been repeatedly reminded why I canceled my cable in the first place.
No, I’m not talking about commercial breaks, episode preemption or
Two and a Half Men. My cable-demon has a face. An old, plastic, wrinkled, terrifying face. It’s this guy:
Fuck. This. Guy. I fucking hate him. He looks like someone left a dead turtle in a stagnant pool of water for a month then put glasses on it. And as his parent, it's your responsibility to abort him.
Let’s make one thing clear: This man has no business giving me advice on anything post-Cold War Era, let alone my choice of amusement park. If this guy went on a roller coaster, his putrefied organs would ooze out of every orifice. In fact, THAT’S what you should put in the commercial. Seriously, if you built a roller coaster called “Der Elderkiller” and killed off your mascot in the commercial for it, I promise I would call and buy a season pass immediately.
Where’d you get this guy?
The Sopranos? The Progeria Center? Has Dana Carvey fallen so far?
There’s only one thing I’d buy from this man. Canned, unsalted peanuts. That’s it. Maybe adult diapers, but only if he promised his face wasn’t on the package.
I think what really gets me is that it’s clearly a young person wearing grotesque amounts of old man makeup. What’s the message there, Six Flags? Are you reaching out to old people? Young people who dress like old people? Musical Theater majors desperate for the most humiliating work possible?
Here’s a list of things that would have been more appropriate as a mascot for a roller coaster-based amusement park:
A skateboarding duck.
Six flags, each with a different disquieting personality disorder.
An animate gust of wind.
A coaster. Like, a drink coaster. Named "Roller."
An old tire.
Fucking ANYTHING.
And come on: “More Flags. More Fun”? Why do you think that means ANYTHING to ANYONE? Admittedly, it is exactly the kind of thing a doddering old man would mutter to himself while being wheeled out behind the barn to be put out of his misery.
It’s a nonsensical turd of a slogan. The only times more flags equals more fun are at Semifore Camp and on Nickelodeon game shows from the late 90s. You are neither. You are a place that houses a collection of giant robots that push people around. And even THAT overly technical description of your function is a cooler-sounding slogan than “More Flags. More Fun.”
Plus, you’re leaving the door wide open for someone to found an amusement park called 12 Flags and steal all your business. Then you’ll go to 14, and the Flag Wars will be on. Where will it end? My guess is with a park just called “FLAAAAAAAAGSSSZ!!!” whose mascot is an Olympic runner made up as a paraplegic.
More Flags? More Fun? Mother Fuckers.
Your mascot literally makes me sick to my stomach. Get that hideous thing off of my television so I can get back to my Fear Factor rerun. Because honestly, watching someone hork down rotten dongs is a lot more palatable than this decrepit, polyurethane diaper-faced reject from a Buzbee Berkley Musical.
Eat Chocolate Skittles and die.
Sincerely,
A guy who hasn’t ridden a roller coaster since Viper gave him migraines.
When not reskinning his old blog posts, Michael serves as head writer for and co-founder of Those Aren't Muskets! You can also follow him on Twitter from now until they invent a social networking tool where you communicate only with emoticons.
Dear Six Flags Corporation,
I am part of a minority in America, in that I don’t have cable. Like the proud Somalians, I must resort to piracy if I am to fulfill my material and entertainment needs. That is, until last week when my TV inexplicably started having all the major network channels where once there was static. I guess the Somalian analogy there would be getting sniped in the face, but in a good way.
And though I have since been enjoying occasionally-flickering episodes of House and the Simpsons/Family Guy hybrid that The Simpsons has become, I’ve also been repeatedly reminded why I canceled my cable in the first place.
No, I’m not talking about commercial breaks, episode preemption or 
Here’s a list of things that would have been more appropriate as a mascot for a roller coaster-based amusement park:
