Teeny Manolo

The good news is, there are some jobs that kids will do for free that you can’t even pay grownups to do. In fact, you could probably start a daycare, stick all the unsuspecting tots on this duty and charge a fortune.

From ThePoop:

My older son has been kind of difficult for the last week or two. But I’m giving him a lot of slack, because we’ve finally found a job that he’s completely fantastic at: dealing with telemarketers…

Telemarketer: “Is this Mister … uhhhh … Mister Harblop … Mister Fartlop.”

Me: “Just one second. I’ll put him on. (Hands phone to 3-year-old son.)”

Telemarketer: Uhhhh. OK.

My son: “Hi. … What’s your name? … Do you like “Ratatouille”? … I have boy nipples. Do you have boy nipples? …”

Ooooh, excuse me, I’m off to start a daycare.

Ah, the ubiquitous and well-beloved gumball machine. A sight to warm the cockles of any heart, no matter how wizened and dried. Who among us cannot confess to (even now) covertly scoping out the offerings, searching in vain for that five cent jellybean motherload. But as the ancients knew, the only constant is change, and change, my friend, has come to the gumball machine. Not only are prizes segregated now, removing the delightful thrill of actual gambling and completely slaughtering the grey market in traded prizes, but the prizes themselves have changed.

If only they’d had this a generation ago! Legions of now-regretful inked-up former hipsters could have gotten the urge to impersonate Cher out of their systems before puberty (or toilet training, for the either truly precocious or truly slow).

They grow up so fast!

When I first heard of this product, I thought it was a joke. Surely there was no one drunk/drugged/forced at gunpoint at Nickelodeon to sign on the dotted line for this concept.

But, scarily enough, it’s legit. In what is sure to go down in the annals of marketing history as the worst brand placement ever, I give you:

Yes, a rectal thermometer that plays music. Specifically, the signature theme of Spongebob Squarepants.

Years from now, there will be hordes of young children who will cry whenever Spongebob comes on, and yet have no idea why.

She’s going to be pissed.

From Consumerist. The comments on that post are a treasure trove of embitterment and condescension.

I present to you the parental stylings of mothers who take their daughters to the spa because well, 9/11 pushed them to do it! OK, well, one of them, anyway.

You’ll have to sit through a brief cereal commercial, but it’s worth it.

And is it just me, or are those half-braids really, really, ugly?

This contest totally blows!

From the Flickr stream of RandomDude,
a great shot of the bubble flashmob in Vancouver a couple of years back.

I have a confession to make: there is a soft spot in my heart for the loopy comedy stylings of Ben Stiller, and it’s not just because he smiled at me once in Waterfront Station.

Although some.

One of his finest creations is the fabulously moronic Derek(Dayre-ique?) Zoolander, and one of the best bits of that movie was the hilariously appalling infomercial with which Mugatu brainwashed him. “Governments are interfering with the age-old right of children to work as they please! Now…Kill the Prime Minister of Malaysia!”

Oops! Uh, “Spoiler Alert!” Still, at least I didn’t tell you about the Duchovny surprise, so that’s good.

In any case and in the same vein, here is a lovely news presentation from The Onion, celebrating the new Gap For Kids, By Kids collection!

Gap Unveils New ‘For Kids By Kids’ Clothing Line

In last week’s poll, I asked “how old is too old for a man to father a child?”  The largest vote-getter was anything over fifty.  Thirty percent said over sixty.  There were also some very interesting and heartfelt comments, and I continally marvel at our readers’ eloquence and honesty. But what else should I expect from the superfantastic fans of the Manolosphere?

Buttering up aside, this weekend I was thinking about all the stuff there is for kids. And I’m not necessarily talking about things to buy, although there certainly is that. Malls have play areas, there are gyms especially for kids, seemingly billions of different camps and classes, DVD players built into cars, and practically every restaurant has a kid’s menu.

I don’t remember any of that growing up.

Seriously, this company should forget about advertising on blogs and just start stuffing their brochures in Oscar and Grammy goodie bags. Thanks to the ever-informative Dr. Boli for this.

There, I said it.

You know, this week started badly, is worsening rapidly, and at this rate I really don’t know if I’ll be able to face Friday without smelling salts. Tell me: Do they make overproof Earl Grey? I’ll have a double.

One doesn’t want to natter on about the Good Old Days before one was born (too much) because they were oppressive and hypocritical and full of ugly, synthetic garments and hostility towards the people who supply the toys for our Happy Meals and our mail order babies.

But.

One is reminded, one is, of the time Mister Walt Disney went to former Mousekateer Annette Funicello and asked her to keep her bellybutton covered during her upcoming beach movie, for the sake of the reputation of the Mickey Mouse Club. Well, she did and they gave her three sequels anyway and as far as we know she’s sitting on a beanbag full of cash, drinking whiskey sours her cabana boy mixed and emailing Perez Hilton corny jokes from the verandah of a swanky retirement villa in Santa Barbara. And good for her.

My, how things have changed. First Miley Cyrus, now this:

From Slate:

After reading of the Cyrus flap, I e-mailed my photo to Disney… How did the company square its position on the Liebowitz photo with its risqué billboard in China?…

Foster said he didn’t know which ad agency prepared the ad, how old the model was, or where the photo shoot took place. But he was sure it was the work of a Disney licensee: Shanghai Zhenxin Garments Co. Ltd… He assured me the billboard would be removed immediately…

It may be a small world, after all, but not everyone shares Burbank’s mores, and you can’t be too careful protecting your brand: You never know when a Chinese licensee, or an American glossy, will deviate from the Disney way.

So to speak.