I loved the Berenstain bears when I was kid, and I was sad to see that the creator of the series died recently. Apparently, Charles Krauthammer didn’t like the Berenstain bears so much (note: he wrote this a while ago, not right after the creator of the series died):
It is not just the smugness and complacency of the stories that is so irritating. That is a common affliction of children’s literature. The raging offense of the Berenstains is the post-feminist Papa Bear, the Alan Alda of grizzlies, a wimp so passive and fumbling he makes Dagwood Bumstead look like Batman.
Mother Bear, too, is a creation. Every adult will recognize her as the final flowering of the grade-school prissy, the one with perfect posture and impeccable handwriting. The one the teachers loved. The one who disdained your baloney sandwich and pulled from salad out of her lunch box, minding her cholesterol in 1958. The one you always dreamt of drowning.
This is why I think conservatism is doomed. They can’t even watch a fucking cartoon without overlaying it with some crazy aggrieved male mythology. I don’t think most people have the time or energy for this kind of exegesis. Maybe I’m wrong.