Imagine a world populated by elemental slave-beasts–poor, tortured animals–their dignity ground underfoot by ten-year-old tyrants. A race of brutes, their agency captured and snuffed out as the pubescent taskmasters force them into solitary confinement. Rare and burdened breaths of “freedom” come few and far between–only when the despotic youths deign to release them into a dystopian battlefield laced with pain and misery. Yes, picture this evil, twisted, nightmarish hellscape, if you dare. Nay, stop! Cease your fumbling fingers from dialing that Poké-PETA hotline! You see, the juvenile persecutors, in their infinite mercy, allow these sniveling pocket monsters (these utilitarian tools of destruction, stripped of all honor and self-respect) one day of repose.
A vacation, if you will.
Indeed, the creators of this piece of pro-trainer propaganda twist the reality of Poké -slavery by barraging us with a series of fallacious still-images–a slideshow of pictures (heavily edited and censored, no doubt) that depict the poor beasts engaging in winter-themed frolicking and fun–an alternate reality that begins with a childish tune, designed to lead the sheeple away from the Realm of Truth and all things factual. Those “in the know” can see this twenty-minute anime special for what it really is: a filmed psychological experiment, designed and staged by the ten-year-olds, in which the monsters become addicted to alcohol and debaucherous forms of excess. One more nail in the monsters’ dependency coffin before their unfeeling child-rulers stuff the things back into their orbed prisons.
The demented sociopaths known as “Brock,” “Misty,” and “Ash” rent out a cottage under the guise of a friendly holiday get-together. They then, out of pure coincidence, leave their Poké-friends behind, unsupervised, to travel to town and purchase a “cake.” This elaborate ruse successfully dupes the mons (who, due to their failure to thrive and develop, lack the tools to resist the wiles of their masters) and lulls them into a false sense of security.
Of course, the helpless minions discover various items of pleasure in the cottage: “party” “hats,” “Christmas” trees, hard drugs, alcohol, marijuana cigarettes, and all manner of illicit substances. The slack-jawed lemmings have no choice but to indulge themselves in every form of hedonism available to them and they encourage each other to “YOLO” it up every step of the way. And I ask you, dear reader, who among us has the right to judge them? These downtrodden critters, whose lives of servitude offered them no solace, pounce on the chance to enjoy their fleeting, ephemeral existences because, deep in their souls, they know that the cruel hands of their afflictors will return and with a vengeance. The Clock of Doom shall strike twelve, and thus the last party of their bleak lifetimes will soon end.
Alas! The night of euphoria passes like a dream, and they arise to a trainer-less morning. Could they escape? That mad thought races through their collective minds and the impulse of group-think takes over. They will risk the snowy tundras and make their escape.
In the wild, they fraternize with the barbaric natives. The “kangas” “kahn” and her disgusting, rag-a-muffin offspring. “King Nyarth,” the feline goblin (who fancies himself a ruler) with a penchant for crushing at-risk monsters with boulder-sized snowballs. The escapees delight in the tabogganing, body-sledding, and other crude games the wild denizens of the outside world like to busy themselves with–even the near-death experience with a sub-zero-temperature lake provides the once-captive beasts with morbid amusement. Yet the trainers espy their prisoners from afar and grin at the futile “freedom” their slaves have accustomed themselves to. The experiment bore fruit. The Pokémon leap into their trainers’ arms, now utterly dependent on the humans for all earthly needs. Yes, praise the pre-teen overlords! Givers of food and shelter! Givers of vacation!
The AniMessenger now issues a challenge to all those who read this blog post. Do not discard this short visual buffet of buffoonery known as Pikachu’s Winter Vacation into the waste-bin of anime obscurity. Instead, see it as a call-to-arms–a peek into a kid-ruled dystopia–a glimpse into the evil that lives within all of our hearts, waiting to explode, Poké Ball-esque, into reality.
And, please remember: