Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Dr. Fail

Yeah, Dr. Fail McGraw. That's how we say it around here.

Today, with little fanfare, Dr. Fail teamed up with American Girl to devote a show to teaching girls about important things they need to know. At first I thought this to be a most excellent development, because it's high time network television devoted an hour to the proper usage of the English language.

But alas, 'twas not to be.

Because you see, Fail's agenda was about tackling "the most important issues facing tweens. Parents, if your young daughter is asking questions about her body, bullies or the birds and the bees, don’t miss this special show! And, for the first time in Dr. Phil history, the audience is filled with girls! Find out what the younger generation has to say!"

Bodies, bullies, birds, and bees, boo-yaah. I'll give him points for the alliteration. But WTF, for the first time the audience is "filled with girls?"


And I don't think we're talking about Girls Gone Wild here. That, I could understand.

What kind of promotional angle is that? See here, Dr. Fail, you've set a dangerous precedent that you are going to be hard-pressed to top. I can see it now: "For the first time in history, the audience is filled with midgets!" Then the next week "For the first time in history, the audience is filled with ponies!" And it escalates: "For the first time in history, the audience is filled with Martians! Pope clones wearing 3D glasses! Dragons!" And then it turns tragic when the studio catches fire from dragon sneezes because everyone knows that dragons are allergic to bald asshats. Everyone except you, Dr. Fail. You could have prevented this tragedy by not populating your audience with young girls. Or dragons.

Let's call this for what it is: shameless ratings pandering for Dr. Fail and positive PR spin for AG in the midst of Gwen-Gate. It was terribly ill-conceived (As were you, Dr. Fail. Your parents told me all about it but tried to swear me to secrecy because they knew the truth would traumatize you. Surprise!). If CBS needed a cutting-edge ratings boost, they should have called me. Not only is the mere mention of my name sure to increase the karma of all who utter it, but FFS, what does Dr. Fail know about being a ten year old girl?

Oh wait, right, he's an expert. Or at least he plays one on TV.

I'll give him this much: Dr. Fail is an expert in hiring staffers who know how to stick cute text onto videos. And he's really good at showing his age by using all kinds of old-timey expressions. "Greasers"? "Pencil-necks"? (BTW, Grease? Terrible movie. Much as I love leather, don't put it on if it's not your thing. Especially not if some guy tells you to do it.)

But here's a plus: Dr. Fail did cite Pink as a positive role model for girls. I approve of that. Girls everywhere should be encouraged to be like Pink and kick John Mayer in the balls. The world would be a far, far better place if that were done more often.

On Dr. Fail's show, we got the typical "OMG my daughter/ZOMG but my mom!" tripe. Listen up, you whiners. The appropriate age for Facebook and Myspace is age 13 or older. Not going on 13, not looks like 13, but actually 13. Parents, don't permit your tweenage daughter to lie about her age to join online forums. Seriously, you suck if you do that. And yes, I'm looking at you, parents who say it's okay for your doll-loving underage child to join Playthings and/or who don't monitor your kids' online habits. I'm tired of chasing down your little girls and giving them the slapdown because you can't be bothered to do your own damned jobs.

What really pisses me off here is that while I'll grant you that Dr. Fail's AG Expert Person did cite the Facebook age as 13, no one there bothered to mention COPPA, the Federal Trade Commission Children's Online Privacy Protection Act. That's only the federal law that protect children's privacy and safety online. We don't make this shit up, you know? It's the LAW. Cousin Antonin could tell you all about COPPA but we're not speaking at the mo' seeing as how I'm still pissed at him for not including me in the acknowledgments for his new book. I edited the hell out of that book. You wouldn't think Cousin Antonin would be capable of such chatspeak. I blame his friend Clarence.

Anyway, after flapping around some more about "where are the parents?" Dr. Fail sold his message that we should all stick together. That's all well and good but let me tell you, I'm not going to sit in a circle, hold hands and sing Kumbaya with just anyone.

Truth is, you learn to stick up for yourself when you get knocked down enough, and you learn to stick up for those who can't speak until they find their own voices. And that advice to "speak up?" Yeah, well, don't kid yourselves; saying it doesn't make it so. It's not that easy. The learning curve is wicked. I write this knowing that there are those out there who think I am a bully, but in reality I am the Anti-Bully, the Robin Hood of Bullies, the Squasher of Asshats and Puncturer of Platitudinarians.

At the end of the day, it comes down to this: if Dr. Fail knew anything about anything, he'd be giving all the girls Jess instead of Chrissa. After all, it's but one small step away from Chrissa to Gwen the Homeless Doll.

But that's another topic for another day.

Monday, September 28, 2009

What Should Really Happen to Stupid Questions on Ask a Stupid Question Day

On a day like this, when I've been shut up in the Playthings offices answering stupid question upon stupid question, it's nice to know that there are such talented assholes in the world. CLICK LINK

Yeah, that was for you, all you people with your stupid questions. If that dude could catch your queries, he'd have my undying gratitude.

Oh by the way, here are a few that the Playthings mods (speaking of assholes) said I couldn't post on their forum.

Q: Why are my pincurls SO hard? Felicity
A: Viagra.

Q: Why did I not come with pincurls? Elizabeth
A: Because your boyfriend needs to work on his technique.

Q: Can I give you a make over? Nicki
A: This is an exceedingly stupid question to ask because it will not only result in the creation of several anatomically correct orifices on your muslin body, but the plugging-up of said orifices with, well, ask Richard Gere. I'd include a visual but even I can't submit the Banff Squirrel to such torture.

Q: What is the ratio of dogs playing the fiddle to cows jumping over the moon?
A: I am not one to contemplate the ratios of masturbating dogs to anything. But hey, I'm not judging. Whatever floats your boat.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

September 2009 Releases

Once again, AG doll forum members followed the usual "OMG NEW DOLL SHIT" schedule:

Day 1:
Stay up all night in anticipation of new dolly shit. Fall asleep five minutes before site is updated.

Day 2:
"OMG COFFEE. OMG NEW SHIT! YAY! SQUEE!" Start 14 new doll shit threads until I do the official smackdown.

Day 3:
"I'm bored with this stuff. The new shit sucks. When are we getting new shit?"

Well, guess what? I'm not bored yet; I'm still laughing at this stuff and I think I will be for a while yet to come. I do have some questions, though. First there's Julie's Jumpsuit:

OMGWTFBBQ. Look at that thing. Did someone's Satanic turquoise llama throw up on Julie?

That's some serious Satanic llama puke fabric. Oh by the way, Earring Magic Ken called for Julie.

He wants his cock ring back.

Next, we have the revised Flip Chair.

So let me get this straight. After the Satanic turquoise llama pukes all over Julie's outfit, it pukes on the old flip chair? No thank you. No self-respecting doll will put her pristine muslin arse on llama puke.

Then we have the Fancy Flowers Outfit.

Why lookee there! I do believe we have finally identified Coconut's true calling: shrug fur. Note to AG: above doll needs to see a chiropractor due to serious neck misalignment.

Sweet Melody Outfit? I'm not singing any sweet melodies, and neither is this doll:

What the hell happened here? Did she get dressed in the dark? Because seriously, I can find no other explanation as to why someone would pair these pieces together. Also, I suspect AG raided Michael Jackson's closet for those Moon Boots, opportunistic bastards that they are.

Now, I want to direct your attention to these new dolls.

This appears to be the Rise of the Ginger Army as prophesied by the Book of Nellie. I have it on good authority that they quote the Andy Griffith show like Bible verses, seeing as how Ronnie Howard is their Messiah and all.

But lo, your salvation is at hand:

A new !Jess. Eventually we will achieve face mold domination. But none of us will be wearing the Penguin PJs & Robe:

Tell me, AG, why does this doll have a penguin growing out of her armpit? It also looks like AG killed the stars of Happy Feet in order to keep dolly feet happy. My doll feet, they are not happy, no matter how many penguins you try to shove on them, AG, so shove your penguins somewhere else.

But more importantly, will the aforementioned Ginger Army be clad entirely in themed pajamas? Because I swear every time AG has a new release, they give us pajamas. The casual observer would be forgiven for thinking that AG was tying to outfit an army. C'mon, AG. Enough jammies. I keep asking you people for leather, fishnets, and more variety in ass-kicking boots. Cough it up already.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

The most wonderful day of the year

Arr, me hearties, it be Talk like a Pirate Day once again. Note that it also be Rosh Hashanah, so yeah, Shanah tovah to yon Jewish mates. Ye lot can feel free to sprinkle some derogatory Yiddish terms in with yer pirate-speak, savvy?

Listen up, ye, I don't give a flying Dutchman if it is politically incorrect to glorify piracy. Cut me an effin' break and pluck that oar out of yer asses. This be for fun, not glorification. I know bloody well that pirates didn't swash around like Errol Flynn or swish around like me pal Johnny Depp's Cap'n Jack Sparrow. And me bein' the international woman of reknown that I am, you can rest assured that I know far more than you do about the lack of a functioning central government that has pushed the Somalian pirates to lawlessness. So do not presume to fill my message box with yer triflin' lectures, ye lice-infested bilious mothers o'spitless llamas.

There now. Off for some mo' grog, rum, and whate'er else I can guzzle. Carry on.

Friday, September 18, 2009


So while I was vacationing on Johnny Depp’s island this summer, I got to thinking about how much I hate Mariah Carey. I don’t have any specific reason to hate Mariah Carey, although certainly Glitter should be reason enough for anyone to despise her. Nonetheless, I declared her scary, creepy, and inappropriate back in January, and I stand by that. Because you know, her father is an aeronautical engineer and her mother is an opera singer. Seriously, WTF happened to you, Mariah? You gave us Glitter?

But if forced to take sides between Mariah and Eminem (which is a terrible thing to have to do, but sometimes hard choices must be made), I’d have to go with Mariah. I don’t care if they dated or whatever. The plain fact is, in the words of the immortal Bea Arthur, “That man is a douchebag.” (Yeah, so maybe she didn’t really say that about Eminem, but she thought it). And lest you worry about any mental inconsistencies involved, rest assured that I choose not to think of being anti-Eminem as being pro-Mariah Carey. I prefer to think of it as being on the same side as Bea Arthur. The Winning Side. The side that prefers balls. Because we all know Eminem is a ball-less wonder. Eminem is my Sworn Enemy. He picks on washed-up pop tarts because yeah, ole Slim Shady, he knows he won’t survive five minutes if he goes after a fellow rapper. I’d like to see him piss off Pink, honestly. She punched John Mayer in the balls for making sexist remarks at her after a show. That’s the real reason Mayer and Jennifer Aniston broke up; thanks to Pink, he can’t get it up any more. Jackasses, these men.

And of course, that brings me to Jackass Extraordinaire, Kanye West, Jackass of the Moment. Granted, he’s maybe sharing that moment with Joe Wilson. I figure the two of them will soon star together in a self-aggrandizing cinematic masterpiece on par with Mariah Carey’s tour de force in Glitter. It will be hosted by the Banff Crashing Squirrel. I can see it now:

But I’ll tell you what, in this season of political turmoil, Americans are finally united in hatred of Kanye’s unadulterated, preening douchebaggery. That’s no small accomplishment, so part of me thinks Kanye ought to get a medal. But then he goes and does THIS.

Kanye, seriously, that’s a bad, bad move. Because President Obama, he’s an honorary Jedi.

Do NOT mess with him, Kanye. You’ve been warned.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

This is as it should be.

That's right, a pole dancing doll.

Damn it, American Girl. You lose again when it comes to developing kick-ass doll accessories.