That's true-blue love, folks.
I've been coveting this little guy since I was little. He's the catalyst for my zombie obsession and now he's the crown jewel of my collection.
For those of you unfamiliar with Smurf lore, I'll recap black beauty's origins:
The Smurfs began in the late-1950s as a French comic, and that's where our dark knight made his first appearance. While shirking his official Smurf duties, a lazy Smurf is bitten by a fly. His blue skin turns black and he hops away screaming, "GNAP! GNAP! GNAP!" through clenched teeth. When the infected Smurf sees one of his buddies, he bites him on the tail, thus transforming that poor bastard into a red-eyed butt muncher. The black Smurfs chase tail all day until the entire village, save for Papa Smurf, is zombified.
If you want to find out how the story ends, check out "The Purple Smurfs," an English-language episode from the '80s cartoon series:
As a kid, I had limited access to old French comic books, so this episode was my first exposure to evil Smurfs ... and it scared the shit out of me. I was not easily spooked; I watched gory horror movies in the dark. I made my parents take me to haunted houses. I read Fangoria. I slept with my closet door open. In other words, I wasn't some pansy-ass princess afraid of her own shadow.
Yet the Black/Purple Smurfs creeped me out. That's not to say they didn't intrigue me. I thought they were way cooler than the average Smurf and much more entertaining, what with the ass-biting and all.
Obviously, there are some racial overtones in a story about mean black dudes wreaking havoc on a small town, but I don't think Peyo, creator of the Smurfs, meant to start an adorable race war. He was just a Belgian weirdo who probably spent a lot of time in bars. Hell, if I have one Chimay I'm seeing pink elephants. When Peyo got drunk, he saw blue, shirtless trolls getting their asses eaten. Homoerotic? Yes. Racist? Nah.
The sexual connotations inherent in the Smurfs series were brilliantly summed up by some annoymous geek in the early days of the Internet. This pioneering blogger argued that Smurfs were blue because they only had sex at Smuckfest, an annual orgy where Smurfette -- the lone female -- fucks everyone in the village.
Here's an excerpt (my favorite):
Smurfette turns to Papa Smurf and lifts her stupendous breasts with their turgid nipples to his lips. He takes each one, in turn, into his mouth, where his tongue dances the Fabulous Fandango around the areolae, as Smurfette moans like a cat in heat.
Read the whole wonderfully disgusting tale (tail?) here: http://stuff.mit.edu/afs/athena/activity/h/humor/Really.crude/smurfs
This is the very first thing I ever saw online. It was 1997. I was a wide-eyed, college freshman nervously surfing the "information superhighway" on my roommate's Gateway PC. Reading this hilariously vulgar essay about my favorite cartoon characters CHANGED. MY. LIFE. It taught me that when writer's block hits and I find myself staring at a blank page, convinced that all my creativity is gone, I simply have to pen a dick joke and the inspiration comes rushing back like a wit erection!
God, I'm horny.
That's why I love my Black Smurf.
He makes me nostalgic for the monster movies, cartoons and toys I worshiped as a child ... things that only became more sacred to me when I reached the pop culture nirvana known as college.
He reminds me to be thankful for the Internet and all of the wacky crap that's at my fingertips 24-7. I can't imagine a world without lolcats or Ermahgerd memes or snarky status updates or viral videos.
He gives me hope that Sarah, a Smurf-lover, will develop a sense of humor that allows her to appreciate and understand her crazy mother.
He symbolizes America's freedom of speech (even if his native tongue is French).
He makes me happy.
Now, tell me, how could a bouquet of fucking flowers do all that?
Thanks, Goose! I la-la-la-la-la-ove you!