With all respect to Mr. Swartz, I find it hard to fit the world of Toy Story, broadly speaking, into a widely-stretched political framework, although it is a thoughtful and fun read. Here's how I differ in my read of TS3.

Swartz starts by connecting the dynamic between Andy and Woody & company to feudalism, which is tempting at first glance (because loyalty is at play), but upon closer scrutiny there is no economic exchange or significant obligations to the "loyalty" apart from merely being present as a toy. Instead of the toy-master arrangement being one of servitude, indentured labor, or military obligation, the duty of the toy is in fact inverted from any such duty: they simply have to "be," which doesn't require any work. The toys' purpose is pure: to love and to be loved. The relationship forces us to ponder how we relate to the non-human things around us: our iPods, the planet, animals--how we form relationships with objects, and what consequences arise, both within our minds and out in the physical world, from our regard (or disregard) for those objects. That there is an unconditional dominance of the toys by humans is granted, and, in the conceit of the films (with the exception of the moment with Cid in TS1), immutable.

Sunnyside Daycare, however, IS rife with political undercurrent (as it relates a power dynamic unto itself among the toys), but I disagree that it is being presented as a "libertarian paradise" (if such a thing can even be said to be possible). The reason, of course, is that there is a thinly veiled communitarian, possibly communist sense of mutual obligation: that is, the massage and sewing shops are exactly presented as examples of the ways in which the toys in this community are meant to "help" each other--self interest is ostensibly not at play, not among the toys anyway. In any event, we see the system quickly unveil itself as a totalitarian police state, with Lotso at the top, and we see quickly how his oppression becomes untenable for Woody & company after they attempt to exercise their option to leave. What ensues is a classic depiction of imprisonment (creatively, in my opinion, the movie's low), along with an interesting interlude that comically reexamines the sexual power inversion that Barbie enacts over Ken to trump his military authority.

Bonnie's house doesn't in any substantive way represent a "mixed economy" but instead represents a reincarnation of purpose for the toys once they've exhausted their use to Andy. Bonnie is, simply put, a younger Andy, and along with that represents a new abundance of love and time that will reinvigorate the toys with a sense of purpose and belonging. The moment at the end of the movie is the very profound recognition, via the transference of toys, that youth, and with that life, is fleeting. Andy recognizes that the joyous youth within himself hasn't died, but has merely been passed on to the very capable Bonnie. With that there is a third layer of meaning, that many have picked up on, that relates to the paternalistic relationships present both within the movie and its audience.

With the advent (some would say inevitable advent) of consumerism, we have become a more materialistic society, and we imbue meaning to more objects in our lives than ever before. Toy Story forces us to examine how we distribute our own sense of self worth, and, in many ways, pieces of our own identity among the various artifacts strewn about our houses. Perhaps there is even a subtle critique of this materialistic culture hidden somewhere in the Toy Story franchise--do we think twice before we swap in our iPhones anymore for a new model? Has society forced us to discard our regard of what we own in hopes that we constantly sell on eBay, REown, and repeat? There's rife economic and sociological commentary here: we all feel it. The political interlude, in my opinion, while funny, isn't nearly as interesting as its relentless focusing and refocusing on what we consider garbage, and why.