In the 80's, Hasbro had a really great thing going: to the horror of our Baby Boomer parents, they were combining advertising for their toys directly with the cartoons on television. Naturally, we were hooked. When you're a kid, simple shows are coming at you with nothing to compete with them, and no matter how hackneyed the cliche might be, it's new to you. You're getting it as though it were the first thing ever written.
You're getting it as though it were the Deep Magic of Humanity.
Now we're grown up and we're wise to the tricks and we've seen it all before and, with a few rare, blazing exceptions, new cartoons look, well, kinda crap. And most of the old ones, we go back and watch 'em and we feel like someone swapped out our drip with Folgers crystals, like somewhere there's the REAL show, and it's been stolen away.
Those blazing exceptions I mentioned happen when one of us grows up to be an artist, maybe a good one. Maybe a great one. And reweaves the True Deep Magic, and lets us feel the warmth again.
Yeah, I'm writing in soaring tones about Lauren Faust's interpretation of pastel horses.