Sunday, November 22, 2009

Putting the "Christ, are you kidding me?" back in Christmas.

Crank up the Family Guy Christmas CD. According to one of those, Daddy's getting a blow job downtown because Mommy's obsessed with nutritious snacks-websites – 'tis the season for politically correct toys.

Yep, so long G.I. Joe. Take your six-pack abs and missing penis and move in with Barbie. Awareness is the new BattleBot.

Take for instance, Playmobil's Airport Security play set – it looks like a real blast and encourages anti-terrorism and race sensitivity. It also comes with a teensy, tiny, little box cutter.

Or, if you want to teach your child a real lesson, let it be about bullying when he shows up on the playground making low-carb emission sounds, pushing an eco-friendly Recycling Truck from Green Toys. According to, "It's a truck, it's a lesson in recycling, it's an example to us all." It's a kick in the 'nads from the child who got Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2 for XBox in his stocking, is what it is. You may as well hand your kid a blue bag and let him suffocate to avoid the humiliation of being beaten to ratshit while separating mini garbage during recess.

And I don't know about you, but I'd miss being all hungover Christmas morning, undoing those endless wires covered with the blood of 5-year old Chinese children making 15 cents an hour, twisting and twisting, so your toxic plastic, Twin Tower Exploding Transformer with Semi-Automatic Rapidfire won't break in transit from Hong Kong to Havenot. Christmas just wouldn't be Christmas without child labour.

Let's not forget Gwen – Mattel's latest American Girl doll. Don't let that blonde hair and white eyelet dress fool you – Gwen Thompson has a dirty little secret. American Girl's latest bestseller is homeless and living in the backseat of her car. I couldn't make shit like this up. According to Gwen's "story", Daddy skipped out, Mommy lost her job in a recession hit, and the bank booted them out of their dollhouse. For $95 USD you can teach your daughter that men suck, women are useless without men, single moms are deadbeats – and no one cares – so long as you have shiny hair.

Fuck, give me a break. If Christmas was supposed to be politically correct, Santa's workshop wouldn't be stocked with underpaid midgets wearing tights, cranking out toys like Pole Dancer Dolly, complete with edible g-string (okay, I made up that g-string part) or Barbie's friend, Happy Family unwed slut Pregnant Midge. Oh, and my favourite, Power Wheels Cadillac Escalade by Fisher-Price. For $349.99, it teaches your child, if you're going to do a drive-by shooting, you may as well be guzzling gas. The vehicle comes in black, naturally, with tinted glass, and is recommended for ages 36 months to 5 years. (36 months, for those who don't speak Mommy, is approximately 3, or when they start saying "why" over and over until you have to whip out the Nyquil to shut them up.)

Face it. Christmas is a pathetic excuse to eat and drink too much; make your annual boozed up trip to midnight mass for agnostics; and spend money you simply cannot afford. I fuckin' love it. Why ruin it with political correctness.

If you're really stuck on what to give the little bastards, Sweet Jane's on Doyle Street has edible gifts, hysterically funny and politically incorrect gifts, plus, great retro tin toys. Who cares if the kids don't like them – they'll rekindle all sorts of flashbacks from your childhood, like the Christmas morning Daddy set Chatty Cathy's hair on fire with his Marlboro Lights.

He said the little bitch just wouldn't shut up.

Sweet Janes is on Doyle Street, just down from the Port of Wines.