So I’m kicking it with J on the stone sectional, watching Wolves annihilate Preston (yes Iwelumo!), when for no reason whatsoever he grabs the plastic rectangle wand and changes the channel to YTV.
Not a huge deal. I’m down with the new Transformers cartoon, but we only caught like 14 seconds of it before we were shunted into the commercial break. And that’s when I saw this shazz:
Are you effing me? A plastic pseudo-pup that spits stagnant tap water on your face? Merry Christmas, wealthy children! Is that how industrial designers of the toy-making world see us? What a slap in the snout. I’m still seething.
J had a different reaction, though. He started laughing, which I don’t understand at all; what’s so funny about 10-year-olds talking about how wet these automatons make them? Wake up, kids! If you want to get wet, go for the real deal: Dog. It’s what’s for playtime. You don’t even have to fill us up first!
What baloney.
Wait…baloney? Does somebody have baloney? Can I have some baloney? Baloney treats?
Treats?
