Finis and Ferb has some serious problems with realism.

And no, I'm not talking about Secret Agent Platypus' evil scientists with endless supplies of money,

or the fact that two elementary school-aged brothers have managed to travel to space with machines assembled from materials purchased at Home Depot.

No!

I'm talking about the opening of the show.

There's a hundred and four days of summer vacation.

A hundred and four days of summer vacation. A hundred and four days of summer vacation?

On what planet?

My elementary school only allowed 88 days of summer vacation.

I checked the calendars of a bunch of other school districts and the longest summer break I could find was 90.

Not only do Phineas and Furb have a slew of cool inventions, unlimited budget for their summer shenanigans and a cool secret agent pet, but they get an extra 16 days of summer vacation?

That, my friends, is a bridge too far.

The summer just keeps going on and on. It feels like it's been going on for like four years.

Hello, Internet. Welcome to Film Theory. The show where I put the summer vacations of fictional cartoon characters under the microscope, because my own summer vacations were mostly spent watching fictional cartoon characters.

And the price is right!

Have your pets paid or needed?

Today I'm talking about Phineas and Ferb, which just last week celebrated the 10th anniversary of its debut.

Now I can already hear some of you saying,

Matt Pat, aren't you a little old to be watching a 10-year-old Disney Channel cartoon?

Yes.

On its face, Phineas and Furb may seem like a formulae a kid show, but what's so brilliant about it is that's the whole point. Unlike some cartoons which slowly grow

repetitive over years of syndication, Phineas and Furb intentionally started out as a

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