Yes, it’s time to wrap up my wildly successful contest where I asked you to become me and send in a rant that I could post while I trim my hangnails. And you did so! I’m so proud of you kids. Not only do you supply wickedly witty comments on a nonstop basis, but you can do actual think pieces too. You ARE me—and I am you, and that’s because none of us was loved enough in our childhoods.
Anyway, here’s the last winner, a certain Jeremiah Jay, who has been to McDonalds and has worked up a McFlurry of anxiety over the dolls there.
Gay means Happy (Meal)
On a recent, drug-fueled trip to McDonalds, I stood in line, horrified, as I hazily stared at the Happy Meal display case. This month, Ronald is offering Wizard of Oz mini Madame Alexander Dolls. I have a deep-rooted fear of these little toys, as they all look the same, even when the Madame chooses to dress up (which is traditionally just a change of costume, hair/skin color). The most disturbing of these Oz dolls has to be the Scarecrow, which looks like an escapee from a leprosy camp….or Truman Capote.
I think the Cowardly Lion bears a striking resemblance to Lindsay Lohan, don’t you?
I also feel bad for the kids who must choose between the girlie Oz dolls or the intended-for-boys Batman toys. As a child, I always went with the Barbie toy over the Hotwheels much to the chagrin of my parents. I eventually grew out of my affection for Barbie, but one never looses their love for Oz. When a child goes with Madame Alexander’s Dorothy, it’s saying two things:
1) I’m a mini-homosexual.
2) I will continue to collect dolls into adulthood…along with cats.