My eyes light with a childlike glee
At replica Springfield’s allure;
The Kwik-E-Mart is on main street,
The Frying Dutchman’s just next door.
Our parents had dreamed, years ago,
That the Happiest Place On Earth
Was tow’ring spires, firework shows,
And singing dolls all filled with mirth.
Our generation, cynical,
Wants It’s A Small World sunk at sea;
Role models are dysfunctional
Just like Our Fav’rite Family.
For we all grew far too jaded,
Resentful at the cloying joy.
Utopia — fractured, faded,
A money-grubbing business ploy.
This, the new American Dream,
To live as slobs and not as kings —
To stuff our face with Krispy Kreme
And find sardonic snark in things.
Kang and Kodos! No more tea cups!
Homer Simpson’s the new Mickey.
A place for all the smart-mouthed grown ups;
Nostalgia is hella tricky.
(Note: Poem inspired by the planned Springfield themed portion of Universal Studios Orlando. And, yes, I’m a part of the Generation X market they’re targeting, and I’m stoked.)