Traditional Family Values Fairy Tales

[Pastor Isaac Peters]

The Board of Deacons has been reviewing the literature that parents have been using to homeschool their young children, and some of the Board's findings alarm us. For example, some parents have been using "fairy tales" that various false Christians like the Brothers Grimm have rewritten to make them more politically correct. These "fairy tales" also have highly improbable plot twists and magical scenes that make them unsuitable for use in any curriculum that also includes the Holy King James Bible.

Therefore, we are in the process of rewriting the "fairy tales" to make them more appropriate for True Christian™ households. We will post the results in this thread to provide a resource for homeschooling parents. We deliberated on whether to retain the term "fairy tales," since some Board members were concerned that the term would give a special privilege to a certain lifestyle choice. Eventually, however, we opted to keep the term to honor the True Conservative™ principle that living languages stopped changing right after we learned them.

[Pastor Isaac Peters]

Cinderella

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named Cinderella, who lived with her wicked stepmother and her two wicked stepsisters. The wicked stepsisters’ father had died a long while before, so the stepsisters, deprived of the benefits of a proper male-dominated household, had turned into genderless career girls who had degrees in women’s studies.

The wicked stepmother hated Cinderella very much because Cinderella was so much more beautiful than her stepsisters and because her behavior was so much more gender-appropriate. So the wicked stepmother bought the wicked stepsisters beautiful clothing and provided them with lives of leisure, while she forced poor Cinderella to wear filthy rags and to perform the most menial tasks of the household.

One day, the crown prince invited everyone who was anyone in the kingdom to a ball in the royal palace. Of course, the stepmother used her Democratic Party connections to have herself and the stepsisters invited. Cinderella despaired of being able to go to the ball, until all of the sudden, who should appear before her, but her fairy godmother.

“Child,” asked the fairy godmother, “why do you sigh so much?”

“O fairy godmother,” answered Cinderella, “my two wicked stepsisters have been invited to the ball, but I have no prospect of going.”

“Dry your tears, child,” said the fairy godmother. “I will see to it that you shall go to the ball. But you shall achieve your end in the proper way, by being utterly dependent on the whims of some external power, and not by being some sort of pushy feminazi like your wicked stepmother. Here is an engraved invitation to the ball. Now remember, child: Whenever you doubt yourself, have perfect faith in my power, and I will remove all obstacles.”

Later that evening, Cinderella excitedly showed her engraved invitation to her wicked stepmother, who retorted with a scowl, “Oh, so you think you’re going to the ball, do you? Very well, then. You may go to the ball after you have accomplished one small task, and not before. Prove Fermat’s last theorem.”

Those words frightened Cinderella, for in school she had studied appropriately feminine subjects and had not majored in math to show that she was “just as good” as the boys. Then she remembered the promise of her fairy godmother, and she fixed her eyes on those of her wicked stepmother and said in a determined tone, “The proof of Fermat’s last theorem is this: Rush Limbaugh says it; I believe it; that settles it. If that isn’t proof enough for you, then why do you hate this kingdom so much?”

The wicked stepmother, realizing that she had been thoroughly outsmarted, said, “Oh, very well, you may go to the ball, but you’re on your own with regard to wheels, and I don’t think that the royal palace is on any major bus routes.”

By then, however, the time of the ball was approaching, and even if Cinderella had had anything to wear, she would still not have had time to prepare. Just as the wicked stepmother and stepsisters were leaving for the ball, the fairy godmother appeared.

“O fairy godmother,” said Cinderella, “what shall I do? I don’t have a ball gown, I don’t have time to put my face on, and, now that the wicked stepmother and stepsisters are about to drive off in their Prius, I don’t have any way to get to the royal palace.”

“Leave it to me, child,” responded the fairy godmother. The fairy godmother waved her magic wand, and suddenly, Cinderella’s filthy rags were transformed into a magnificent ball gown and a pair of glass slippers.

Cinderella caught sight of herself in the mirror and said, “O fairy godmother, I’m beautiful! But how shall I get to the ball?”

The fairy godmother said, “Come with me to the pumpkin patch.” So they went to the pumpkin patch, and the fairy godmother waved her magic wand and turned the biggest pumpkin in the pumpkin patch into a seven-seat SUV. “Now,” said the fairy godmother, “when the handsome young noblemen at the ball see you, they will see that not only are you very beautiful and elegantly attired, but you also have the proper vehicle in which to be the hockey mom to the many children that they plan to have. But remember: Be back by the stroke of midnight, for at that time, the SUV will turn back into a pumpkin, and your ball gown, into rags.”

So Cinderella got into her SUV and drove to the royal palace. She found the best parking space, crushing a Miata in the process, and went to the front gate to present her invitation to the royal secret service.

When Cinderella entered the ballroom, everyone else gasped at her beauty. The wicked stepmother and stepsisters did not even recognize her, and the crown prince fell in love with her upon sight. She and the prince danced through the night, until Cinderella glanced at the prince’s steel-and-gold diving watch and saw that it was 11:58. Cinderella hastily bid adieu and ran out the ballroom in such a hurry that she left one of her glass slippers behind. She reached the parking lot just in time to watch her SUV turn back into a pumpkin perched on what had been the Miata’s trunk lid. In rags and in tears, she had to thumb a ride home.

The prince was very saddened at the loss of the beautiful woman with whom he had danced, and he treasured the glass slipper (no, not like that, for he was a decent, family-oriented man). One day, he sent a proclamation to the parents of all marriageable young women in the kingdom that his servants would travel through the kingdom with the glass slipper, that the prince’s lost love might try it on and thereby reveal herself. Of course, the wicked stepsisters immediately assumed that the prince meant them, and each of the stepsisters wanted to marry the prince so that she could “change” him. So they sent word to the royal palace that they would be honored to have a chance to try it on.

The servants appeared at the wicked stepmother’s house and asked for her daughters. In turn, each of the wicked stepsisters tried on the glass slipper, but since they were used to wearing sensible shoes, they both tripped while trying to walk in the glass slipper.

The royal servants said to the wicked stepmother, “It is clear that neither of these is the woman whom the prince seeks. Have you no other daughters?”

“No,” answered the wicked stepmother, “just the two. Well, I do have a stepdaughter, but you surely can’t mean her.”

“Bring her out,” said the servants. So the wicked stepmother called for Cinderella, who tried on the glass slipper. When the royal servants beheld that it fit her perfectly, they said, “You are the one. Come with us to the royal palace.”

Cinderella went to the royal palace, where she married the prince, agreed to love, honor, and obey him, and eventually bore him lots of children. They all lived happily ever after, as opposed to the wicked stepsisters, who moved to a hippie commune in one of the blue provinces, where they died of malnutrition from too many three-bean salads and not enough red meat.

[Pastor Isaac Peters]

Little Red-State Riding Hood

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Little Red-State Riding Hood. Her parents had brought her up to be a proper young True Conservative™ lady who never listened to anyone outside of her church or thought for herself.

One day, Little Red-State Riding Hood’s parents learned that her grandmother, who lived in the next village, had become ill. Little Red-State Riding Hood’s mother prepared a delicious bacon-wrapped, American-cheesefood-topped, country-fried steak, put it into a basket, and said to Little Red-State Riding Hood, “Since our Hummer is in the shop, you must deliver this to your grandmother. Here is a map of the route through the woods that you must take.” The route looked awfully complicated to Little Red-State Riding Hood, but she agreed to do it.

While walking along the route, Little Red-State Riding Hood encountered a fearsome liberal. The liberal said, “Don’t be afraid, little girl. Where are you going?”

Little Red-State Riding Hood replied, “I’m going to my grandmother’s house to deliver this basket of food.”

The liberal wanted to snatch the basket and replace its contents with tofu and tempeh, but since there were woodsmen working nearby, the liberal dared not do anything right there and then. ”Where does your grandmother live?” asked the liberal.

Little Red-State Riding Hood showed the liberal the map and said, “My grandmother lives at the other end of this route. It’s a very complicated route, but my mother says that I must follow it.”

“Silly girl,” said the liberal, “there’s a shortcut that will be much faster. Instead of turning right at the clearing, you turn left, and you’ll get there at least fifteen minutes faster. Tell you what. Let’s both go to your grandmother’s house, and we’ll see who makes it there first.”

Little Red-State Riding Hood agreed that the liberal’s shortcut made sense. ”Okay,” she said, “I’ll meet you there.”

The liberal made it to the grandmother’s house first and proceeded to read Derrida to her, thereby boring her to death. The liberal hid the grandmother’s body, changed into her clothes, and crawled into bed to await Little Red-State Riding Hood.

A little later, Little Red-State Riding Hood arrived at her grandmother’s house, knocked on the door, and said, “Grandmother, I’m here.”

The liberal, feigning the grandmother’s voice, said, “I’m feeling terribly unwell and am resting in bed. Let yourself in, sweetie.”

So Little Red-State Riding Hood opened the door and went into the bedroom. When she saw the liberal, not knowing who it was, she said, “My, what big reading glasses you have, Grandma.”

“The better to read to you with, my dear,” replied the liberal.

“My, what a big radio you have on the nightstand, Grandma.”

“The better to play NPR for you with, my dear.”

“My, what a big stack of books you have on top of the dresser, Grandma.”

“The better to corrupt you through secular learning with, my dear.” And with that, the liberal threw off the bed sheets, grabbed a textbook on evolutionary biology, and started to read to Little Red-State Riding Hood.

Little Red-State Riding Hood, suddenly aware of the danger that she was in, ran out of the house screaming. A woodsman heard her and drove off the liberal by reading from the King James Bible that he always carried with him.

The woodsman carried Little Red-State Riding Hood to safety and asked, “Have you learned a lesson from all of this?”

Little Red-State Riding Hood said, “Yes, I have. I now know how dangerous it is to think for myself rather than blindly following authority, and I’ll never do it again.”