The Three Little Pigs are directly responsible for the degradation of American creativity and general childhood guilt.
For the past several weeks the Golden Books version of The Three Little Pigs has made it onto Livvy's high demand book rotation. It is a wretched little story.
In this version of the story, pig one builds his house of straw because he would rather play his fiddle. Pig two because he wants to go join the bugle corps or something. Meanwhile, pig number three is the hearty and noble mason who constructs his little brick house.
Mr. Wolf comes and blows down house one and house two (but doesn't eat said pigs) and then splashes down the chimney of the brick house but doesn't die, just runs away.
I've got no issues with the wolf. He's hungry, whatever.
But the moral of the story is that one needs to always put their industrious work ahead of their play or else they are going to end up nearly eaten by a wolf.
Ridiculous.
Kids need to have their imaginations and their creativity fostered. Industriousness is not the highest virtue. Yet that is exactly what these wretched pigs preach.
Horrors.
Away with the pigs. Away with this story. Kids should go out and play their fiddles and join the bugle corps and play their little hearts out and our stories should celebrate that instead of plaining suggesting that work and its byproducts are the most important things in the world.
I think Jesus would agree with me by the way. Nowhere in Jesus' description of the Kingdom does he say that industriousness is anywhere near the top of the virtue food chain. So away with The Three Little Pigs and in with stories encouraging passionate creativity and play.
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