Dear Stampy (aka Stampylongnose aka Stampycat),
First, let me congratulate you on your success as a Minecraft YouTube star. I suspect you’re among the first YouTubers who managed to build a following of millions by simply recording yourself playing Minecraft.
Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I demand the return of my daughter.
I know you’ve arrived at our house when I hear your high-pitched British accent announcing yourself. Hellooo. This is Stampy and welcome to another video of Stampy’s lovely world!
An Internet search tells me you’re making a full-time living as a top-ten YouTube Star. Now that you’ve passed Katy Perry and Justin Bieber in YouTube popularity, you’ve been able to move out of your family’s basement and build a Minecraft Commentary Empire. Good for you.
Bad for me.
My daughter used to disappear into her playroom with her dollhouse, Barbies, and American Girl Dolls. On summer days, she’d go to the park. Her electronic time consisted of binge-watching “Good Luck Charlie.”
Now she’s a Stampy addict who sneaks the iPad into the bathroom and props it next to the tub for her bath. I can hear the splashing and your comments about “googlies,” which I suspect have nothing to do with Google.
For Mother’s Day, she went to a pottery studio and made me a mug. A Stampy mug. She has a Stampy shirt, which she bought with her own money. She quizzes me endlessly on Stampy trivia. She regularly submits entries to your contests, including writing and recording her vision for a Stampy theme song.
I’ve always understood and respected her call for “one more minute.” We all need a minute to pause a video and collect ourselves before heading out the door. But when she’s watching your video, she doesn’t mean one or five more minutes. She means forty.
All this has led to limits I never thought I’d need to impose on my kid, who’s biggest rule violation has been reading past bedtime.
You’re no longer allowed in our house during sick days because she was developing too many mysterious ailments. You can’t visit during dinner. You can’t show up for viola practice–she thought she could watch your videos while squeaking through “Mary had a Little Lamb.” You can’t hang out with her for hours during the weekend. You see, the only voice she should hear more often than mine is her teacher’s.
I’m supposed to be happy that you’re family friendly and that Mindcraft is creative and, wow, you’re not associated with games that involve shooting prostitutes from a racecar. You respect your young audience. Thanks for that.
Still, you’ve overstayed your welcome. You know what they say about visitors? Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.
No offense, Stampy, but you reek.