I love The Wizard of Oz. Love it. My cell phone plays “Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead” when I get a call. Back in the dark ages, when it was only on TV once a year, I’d get extremely upset if I missed it. I have plans to make a flying monkey costume for Junebug so we can go out for Halloween one of these days. The Wicked Witch of the West still scares me, and I still can’t watch when the Wicked Witch of the East’s feet curl up and shrink under the house.
So it really pains me to read something like this.
Is nothing sacred?