I mean, yes, he's felt the the need to inscribe his own name on his shirt, either because he thought he wouldn't be recognized or because they have a previously-unreported belly shirt theft problem in the 100 Acre Wood.
And, yes, he's carrying a most un-Pooh like hamper bag that probably reads "Tips," but which I'm going to go ahead and pretend reads "Pips," because thoughts of Winnie the Pooh eating oranges and discarding their unwanted bits and pieces makes me much happier than thoughts of Winnie the Pooh whoring himself out for cold hard cash.
But, then again, I think he needs that money so that he can make a break from the terrifying clutches of Dora the Mind-Controller.
For God's sakes, don't stare at that photo too long! Can't you see she's trying to hypnotize you with her dead zombie eyes? Look away, look away.
Instead let's focus on the, er, cleaved bangs. No, the butchered remnants of her nose. Um...how about that saggy ankle skin?
...
Oh, I know! ' I <3 NY.' Yes, that seems harmless enough. I mean, I can relate to that...
Actually, I have a great 'Tip.' Run. Run like the wind. It's too late for Pooh. Save yourself.
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