Wednesday, April 14, 2010

The Day I Lost My Faith in Humanity: I Believe That Children Are Our Future Edition

Y'know, kids' playtime used to be about fantasy, and escapism. It's totally natural for children to spend whole afternoons lost in their imaginations. Imaginations where they become race car drivers, fairy princesses, firemen, athletes, rock stars...whatever their wee li'l hearts desire.

These days, all of that seems shot to hell. Maybe it's the job market, or the economy, or some impetus I'm not privy to...But now, a whole new crop of toys is coming out that sucks all of the joy out of being a kid, and instead starts preparing the young'uns for more realistic career ambitions. And by "realistic," I mean, "menial, demeaning, and/or boring as shit."

F'rinstance, if your kid has no interest in being a ballerina or big-rig driver, perhaps you could steer them with subtlety towards an exciting career in the hospitality housekeeping industry with the Toy Maid's Cart, available at FAO Schwartz.

"Dammit, Reba. Nothing in the tip envelopes AGAIN today."

Or, maybe your child has more of an aptitude for the fast-paced track of quick-service meal establishment point-of-sale. In THAT case, the McDonald's Cash Register Playset is the way to go. It's available at Toys 'Я' Us.

"BECKY? Where the fuck is the button for the Double Fillet O' Fish, again?!?"

However, if you're the sort of parent who REALLY encourages your sticky little brat to shoot for the stars, the toy you MUST get is the Little Tikes Young Explorer Computer. THIS magical device allows them the freedom to REALLY dream. As long as their dreams include someday having their very own cubicle.

"Look Mommy! The cow represents the bull market we all know is never returning!"

Yes, your child can experience all of the joy and triumph of someday taking up space in a grey, featureless box all day, clicking and typing even as their ass slowly expands to the rough dimensions of their desk chair.

Just check out these awesome features!

Included:

Bench seat that fits two children and offers storage inside for supplies
• Two locking cabinet doors
Think Centre PC with Internal DVD-ROM, 160GB Hard Drive, 1GB RAM, 19" Widescreen Flat Panel LCD Monitor and Microsoft® Windows, plus Custom Little Tikes® Learning keyboard and Tiny Mouse
• Pre-loaded educational software, including Millie's Math House®, Sammy's Science House®, Bailey's Book House®, Trudy's Time and Place®, and Thinkin' Things®

Not included:

Haranguing Boss
• Coffeemaker
Soul-crushing disappointment
• 2 AA batteries
401(k)

"C'mon, Spencer. Just a few more spreadsheets, and THEN you can have some juice."

And in case you missed the price tag on this giant pile of awesome, it can be yours for a mere $2599.99. Yeah, really.

Look, I'm not saying there's any shame in office work. Heavens, no. Lord knows it keeps ME in Chee-tos, video games and porn. It's just that this piece of spirit-killing shit is "recommended for ages 3 to 7 years." Really? I dunno...I'd kinda like to think that's still prime time for running around in circles in your backyard with a tin-foil dickey and football helmet on, fucking believing in your bones that you're an astronaut. Or tying on a towel-cape and construction-paper domino mask, and ricking a few sprains being a superhero. You have the rest of your goddamned LIFE to sit at a desk and squint at a screen for hours on end, son. And I should fucking know. I'm living proof.

Then again...maybe I ought to shut up. Because, as with anything, it can always be worse.

A lot, lot, LOT worse, as it turns out.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

LOVE.

John Marshall said...

I seriously had no idea how bad a cubicle was until I was sentenced to one. I would never ever wish that on my children or anyone else's. Our society is ridiculous.

Askov Finlayson said...

This toy is horrendous on the simple ground that it raises a child's expectations of what working in a cube will be like. It lacks annoying coworkers, inadequate computing power and the dingy look cubes get 15 minutes after being put up.