Even when I was younger, I always found it rather audacious of Disney to control the selling of its films relatively effectively by placing them in “the vault” for several years at a time. Not to give you the idea that I may possibly be a huge fan of Disney movies, but I maybe have a friend who is.
I don’t mean to imply that I have ever considered this, but if I had a friend who really enjoyed Disney movies and he was prepared to do almost anything to reclaim those currently locked in “the vault,” I might have considered handing him plans something like those that follow.
0600 hours: Approach Disney compound slowly, and definitely with the use of exaggerated tip-toe methodology. Strive for animated motion at all times, and maybe you’ll pass as no more than a stray character filming on location.
0700 hours: Alert forest friends by singing “group meeting” song in operatic tones.
0800 hours: Use cute little animals to distract guards while making entrance via birds over the fence.
0900 hours: Upon entry, request that fairy godmother grant you a new and seriously stealthy outfit. If possible, ask genie for some Kim Possible-esque martial arts skills.
1100 hours: After locating the secret Disney vault, case the joint.
1300 hours: Look innocuous? Disney was a crazy old dude, and he worked actively in support of McCarthyism. It may look minor league, but it probably isn’t.
1400 hours: Reflect upon strategies employed by George Clooney, et. al., in “Ocean’s 11.” Request back-up from Mulan.
1500 hours: Don’t eat the red apple that the little old lady down the hall offers you. Also, stay away from spinning wheels, wolves, witches (land or sea), mean-spirited cats and sharks. And honey. Winnie the Pooh gets vicious.
1700 hours: Ask mice if they wouldn’t mind investigating the pockets of Michael Eisner and other top Disney officials to see if there’s some sort of key for this vault thing. Remind them not to tie their tails to anything hot and spill-able.
1800 hours: Wait until the majority of employees have vacated. Then slowly approach the vault. Test the handle, but only after you’ve had everyone from “A Bug’s Life” crawl under and check out the locking mechanism.
1900 hours: Upon gaining entry to the vault, try not to weep as your childhood comes rushing back. Ask Mrs. Pots to please brew you tea, but request not to drink out of Chip. This just isn’t the time.
2200 hours: Attempt to stop the free flow of tears, and do not, DO NOT attempt to watch all your favorite classics. Pass each animal in your team one film to carry out. Arrange a meeting place in the woods. Designate it by directions along the lines of “second tree to the right, and straight on ‘til morning.” Make sure everyone is clear on the “morning” time.
2300: Before leaving the vault, be sure to drop some item of your wardrobe to give Disney security a clue to your identity. Traditionally a slipper (glass), hat or some other semi-unique item would suffice, but don’t feel restricted. Also, don’t choose something too obvious, because your “happily ever after” demands that you not actually be caught.
Finally, leave a note that you’ll be willing to discuss ransom if Disney agrees to stop running such horrible programming on its TV channel, and if “High School Musical” and “Hannah Montana” are locked in the vault forever.
At least “Hannah Montana.”