November 25, 2004
Normally I’m of mixed feelings when the boycott calls come out. I have supported Glenn Sacks in the past, especially against David and Goliath, but “suspicion” might be the best word to use for me when many men start grumbling about misandric ads.
I am disgusted by tendency to portray Dad as a dope both in popular media and in commercials; what I’m more concerned about is that when Dad isn’t being played as a dork, he’s being portrayed as someone who might very well have their head shaved and find three sixes as a birthmark. Hottie wife and balding potbellied doofus – yeah right. When is the last time you saw that? I have to ask myself, “Self! What is WRONG with that woman that she settles for such a goober?” Seriously, some of the nerds you see as “leading men” make the stereotypical 30 year old, still-lives-in-mom-and-dad’s-basement Trekkie look like James Dean.
Toys-R-Us, though, has pissed me off.
It took me a while to see their latest offering, where two boys are trying to get out of their room to get to the Christmas “Toys-R-Us” catalog. They get stuck in the door like the two stooges, too dumb, of course, to go one at a time. Their sister snottily says "Maybe next year boys," while she names the catalog and goes into her bedroom and closes the door, which has a sign saying "Girls Rule, Boys Drool."
Nice message to send to boys. Stock up on the Barbies, Toys-R-Us. I’m advising people to go to Kay-Bee or somewhere else. Apparently you don’t want the business of men or boys. So to hell with you.
It’s one thing, I think, to pander to female tittering and “tee-hee-hee” to peddle wares which most men have little or no use for. I need laundry detergent, I buy it, and buy what is on sale. I don’t agonize over which one will mean I “Love my family more.” Choosy Dads choose the peanut butter he can get in the 55 gallon drum for a houseful of kids. Let Choosy Moms dither over “peanutty” taste. I spend maybe 5 bucks more a week in the store than the average shopper – but I sure as hell spend half the time. Damn male efficiency.
So, when the usual man-bashing crap comes out, I tend to ignore it. I’m a grown man. I can take it. And the first time I saw the Toys-R-Us commercial, I greeted it with a BFHD. Another? Same old, same old.
Until I happened to witness it over at the house of a couple with their son and daughters present. The sisters immediately caught the chant of "Girls Rule, Boys Drool" and began poking at their brother with their oversize pencils. Mom got a titter out of it.
Junior put up with it for about 2 minutes, and a look of pure hatred came across his face, and he snatched the pencil out of one sister’s hand, hissed “I HATE you!” at her, and stomped off. Of course, Mom was shocked and appalled, and full of comfort for the two little harpies-in-training, and only dad insisting that since the girls started it, any punishment of one would be punished on all prevented Junior from having her full wrath fall on him for not letting his sisters tease him.
Yeah, women love their sons. I wonder, sometime on down the line, when his little sisters get picked on or have a pass made at them, if Junior is going to be there. As of right now, I’d bet they are on their own. But of course, such commercials are harmless.
I don’t know about you, but I’ll fess up – when I was five years old, the little witch chanting the old “snips, and snails, and puppy dog tails” and “sugar and spice and everything nice” sure made me want to smack the taste out of her mouth. Drool, though, is mean. Wonder what is going through your sons heads when they hear it – and I’m talking what they think, not what they admit to when you ask them.
No. There’s other toy stores out there. As for me, unless we get an awfully abject apology, I’m not inclined to write to Toys-R-Us until after Christmas. Send your message with your wallets, and tell them why after January 1 st. I’d suggest sending a copy of your receipts from other stores to them to make the point. Let the girls and Feminazis support Toys-R-Us.
They aren’t going after men – but at boys. Our sons. Our kids. Time to make them pick on someone their own size.
Let’s make this a Christmas these sons-of-bees won’t forget.