Sunday, September 18, 2011

I tried to think of the most harmless thing...something that could never, ever possibly destroy us...

What the fuck, fucking Hasbro?! Why do you show all those Play-Doh commercials where the hamburgers come out looking all perfect, separated into each individual vibrantly colored piece, and the noodles look just like real noodles, and kids are constructing multi-hued fairy-scented skyscrapers of the stuff, all the while dancing around and singing "Tra-la-la, Play-Doh is happy good fun times, tra-la-la!"
That is some grade-A bull pucky. First of all, there is only ONE inevitable color of Play-Doh - gall bladder grey. Somewhere in the time frame of 2 seconds between being neatly separated into each pristine sunshine yellow container and internal organdom, the Play-Doh becomes this whirly psychedelic amalgamation, something that bears resemblance to what would result from giving a pot brownie laced with LSD to a caffeinated, sleep deprived nicced-out rhesus monkey, and then telling it to write the sonnets of the Bard. 
Shortly after unleashing my children on a pack of Play-Doh with so many colors some were outside the visible spectrum of light, I was assaulted by one such heaving gelatinous mass that was eerily reminiscent of Ken Kesey’s Magic School Bus. Eerily, because I have no idea why I know who the hell or WHAT the hell that is. 
“Look Daddy - it’s a horsey!” 
"GEEEEEAHHH! GAHHHH! GET IT AWAYYY!!!- oh, hey Boogie. A horsey. Horrrrseeeyyy…yeah, okayyy... go bug your mother.” 2 seconds later, it was an amorphous blob of pinkish gray goo. I’m almost POSITIVE it winked at me. This makes me pretty sure that Play-Doh is sentient. I mean, aside from the bits the kids eat, where does it go? I’ve never thrown away any Play-Doh, but no matter how much is bought or gifted to us, it never seems to accumulate. If it did, we’d have a futon-sized stomach-lining colored blob that WASN’T me hanging around our house somewhere. That would make a cool Doctor Who episode… Hasbro takes this creature, this happy little skooshy thing -called a pladoh, I’m sure - and RIPS it apart in a prismic extractor, separating it into all the colors of the rainbow and sells it. The loving hands of children knead it back together into its singular gooey form, at which point it makes its escape, where it is hunted by special pladoh hunters in the employ of Hasbro, who capture it and start the vicious cycle all over again.
Once again, it goes to show you - you can never trust a man in dark sunglasses and a Hasbro jumpsuit sporting a gaily-colored tranquilizer gun.

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