Thursday, August 24, 2006

Oh Yoko

Being at home and inside most of my days, between the confinement of the heat and the convenience of staying at home and breastfeeding, I get to catch a lot of daytime programming. As a feminist (and of course by feminist I mean a woman who believes that women are people of equal stature to men, not just tits defined by their ability to either feed or be fondled) I have for a long time known that the media survives on it's ability to make me feel bad about myself. I have accepted that, made my peace with VOGUE magazine, and frequently enjoy a good picture flip through PEOPLE magazine despite my lack of riches and abundance of lbs. in the eyes of the media. However, I have recently fallen prey to an entirely new marketing strategy aimed at my self loathing. I am a new demographic. A dumber consumer for having bred, or so it seems in the eyes of some advertising teams.

I was watching a Febreeze commercial where a SAHM (stay at home mother) is spraying down her stinky teen's football padding when it occurs to her how much fun it would be to go spray his prepubescent stink out of the minivan. Then there is the heartburn medication commercial that shows a fat bastard eating a burrito while his hot size two wife and their good looking children rush to stop him. But, my all time favorite has to be the new Summer's Eve Commercial. A man is shown rifling through some dirty laundry in search of a pair of socks. He finds a sock, sniffs it, crinkles his nose at the stench, but still determines it is good for use and begin to put on the sock. His wife walks into the room and indignantly says, "What are you doing?" to which he replies, "Taking off that dirty sock!" Funny. Until I found out it was douche commercial.

I can tolerate mothers being made to look like they enjoy cleaning up after their ungrateful children and husbands, I can even believe that there are sexy women that fall in love with fat slovenly men, but when you compare my cootch to a dirty sock you have crossed a fucking line. "Hey stink cootch, when you're done perfuming that baby ejector you used to call a vagina, why don't you finish cleaning up the trail of junk your rotten kids have left throughout your house so that you'll have time to cook a three course meal for your fat bastard husband!"

So the man was going to put on a dirty sock... he doesn't know any better. The same way you think your pussy smells alright without injecting it full of chemicals... you just don't know any better.

So, to be clear, women can be trusted to birth, raise, and care for our children, marry and tend to our husbands, and let's not forget who keeps the dog alive, keep our homes in order and our families fed, but left to our own devices we are so lazy and disgusting that we would let our vaginas rot.

Perhaps it is this terrible case of "stink cootch" or "vagina rot" that has infected our brains to such a degree that we encourage these marketing tactics by buying these products.

Just this weekend I was at Wal-Mart looking for the best deal on diapers with my mother when she tried to sell me on a new brand of diapers called "White Cloud". She pointed out to me that the art work on the generic diapers was none other than John Lennon's art. I asked if I was to assume if John Lennon supported a brand that I should try it. My mother thought I should, and read aloud from the packaging that it was actually Yoko Ono who endorsed the diapers with John's art. Confident that Picasso could not redeem a leaky diaper with his finest works, I opened the package to compare a "White Cloud" diaper with a Huggies diaper from my diaper bag. Sure enough, the "White Cloud" diaper was thin, stiff, had less elasticity, and quite frankly the art was not John's best. "Oh Yoko"... I say, "Oh no Yoko"

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