Yet if the characters' faith in a better future is quintessentially American, it travels well. "Peanuts" merchandise, starting with a six-inch plastic Snoopy in 1958, now includes toys, videos, clothing, Hallmark cards, sheets, MetLife ads and... well, more than $1 billion in sales every year. If the "Peanuts"-ing of the world seems crassly exploitative to some critics (even one United Media insider says it "casts a mercantile pall over something innocent"), it's because Schulz can't say no. It is as if Schulz—who worries that promised TV interviews will be canceled once people realize how unworthy he is—thinks spurning a deal would tempt fate.
Yeah, give it a rest. The truth is that Charles Schultz sold out big time. He was quite capable of making a wonderful living writing a nice little comic about a loser and his pet dog, but he got greedy. He wanted millions, not hundreds of thousands. He wanted his own hockey rink. He wanted an empire. And he got it, because people did not take offense at the idea of cartoon characters designed to enrapture children being used to huckster insurance or phony sentiment (Hallmark). Stop soft-pedaling the fact that Schultz sold his soul.
