My understanding is that the otter wants applesauce to make up for being lied to.
I wish I could demand applesauce whenever I am lied to; or I'd settle if I could become an otter.
This is the hardest rebuke young Philippe knows; he is calling his bear friend a fool and his decision to declare that showering man Superman nonsense in the staunchest terms at his disposal.
What impresses me about the obscure German man-porn Teodor is watching is that it is apparently silent. Not only does the TV make no noise, but the increasingly corrupt young otter is capable of mistaking a film of
the rawest thing of dudes for the Olympics. No way would that happen if there were a soundtrack.
The only conclusion we can draw is that this is some kind of old-fashioned stag deal such as a loop from Weimar expressionist times. Maybe it never had sound, or maybe it did and the only sensible thing was to turn it off; it took until after the war for most to realize being in a talkie did not mean you couldn't shut up, and that kind of chatter would be rude to a hard-on. The fact remains that Teodor, in his compulsion to explore his surpressed desires, has stumbled upon a diamond of history in the rough of gay porn.
He has gone from discovering how to weep the weepy-weep way to satiating the homosexual monkey on his back to
enjoying a front-row seat to history. And all he can think up to excuse himself is the Man of Steel having a rough day.
Entitlement indeed.