Outside they're painting tar on somebody; it's as close to a work of art as they will ever be.
I am a forty-seven-year-old balding man with an incredible and tolerant wife and four adorable, if often punk-ish, kids (three girls and one boy). We all enjoy watching the Kim Possible show and/or playing the PS2 "What's the Switch" video game despite the fact that we haven’t had television since 1998.
Most of the stuff I enjoy reading would not suggest an affinity for a “kid’s” cartoon show. For the most part, the works of James Joyce, Samuel Beckett (whom I snagged my pen name from), Salman Rushdie, William Gaddis, David Lynch, Soren Kierkegaard, James Baldwin, and Friedrich Nietzsche would not easily be adapted into cartoons. However, I think this helps explain why I like KP. Most everything else I “enjoy” is pretty depressing, so I need a Technicolor outlet to express my hidden desire for happy endings. This is evident in my fanfiction reading habits. Although I have read Burrough's "Naked Lunch," JG Ballard's "Crash," and some of the Marquis De Sade's works without qualm, I get inexplicably queasy if I read a KP fanfic that ends unhappily or involves the break-up of K/R.