[at-l] Sensitivity around our campfire

[TOKTAADN@aol.com]

My fellow listers,

We've gotten pretty good in our pose of 21st century sensitivity, compassion 
and enlightenment.  That only mention of Dan Bruce and Bill Bryson can 
temporarily crack through the facade is a testament to your forbearance and 
maturity.

I wish I were so mature for I'd like to discuss my failings in this area.  
There is a whole category of creatures for whom I can exclaim my utter 
abhorrence.  These are the trademarked characters of the corporate giants.  
Created in the minds of marketers, these hideous beings assault us in all of 
the popular media.  Their presence is meant solely to induce us to spend 
excess dollars on the products and services they represent.  With me, at 
least, their existence accomplishes the exact opposite result.

I detest all of these.  I must admit that the Pillsbury Doughboy, for 
example, with his cutesy persona, makes me wish I was alone with him in a 
room, armed with a rolling pin.  And the StaPuft Marshmallow man would need 
to be admitted to a burn ward with massive third degree burns after I dumped 
him into our little cozy conflagration.  Ditto for Snuggles, the bear whose 
grating laugh can be compared to an ill placed fingernail on a chalkboard.

The cigarette companies have their share of these ogres.  Thank goodness the 
Marlboro Man has been finally laid to rest.  I had the suspicion he was 
getting all the good babes.  And what kind of a name for a Camel is Joe?  
Surely the nations on this planet in which camels are indigenous contain very 
few individuals with this particular moniker.

I would thoroughly enjoy a moment with Ronald McDonald. I would forcibly 
remove his strangely colored wig and false nose, exposing him to the world as 
the clown he really is.  As far as local hero Mickey Mouse is concerned, 
well, on my next visit to PA, I would see that he made a tasty meal for Mom's 
hungry cats.

In a perfect world, the lizards would snare the Budweiser frogs, Charlie the 
Tuna would finally get grilled, and the Energizer bunny would run out of 
steam and be unbid for on ebay.  I must also state that pink is a positively 
gauche color for a panther, plus it's my color anyway.  Don't mess with me, 
Owens Corning.

Whatever happened to the lovely and gentle older woman who represented Aunt 
Jemima?  In their shameless nod toward political correctness, the makers of 
the mix and the syrup replaced her image with one that looks positively 
ageless and raceless.  It's enough to make me want to regurgitate my pancakes.

Finally, why am I putting Tony the Tiger in my Exxon gas tank?  The 
resemblance of these two felines has actually pitted two corporate giants in 
a protracted court battle.  I guess we'll all be paying more for gas and 
cereal so that these companies may have a taxpayer-financed court resolve 
this issue of vital national importance.

It is my sincere hope that I have not offended anyone by any statements in 
this post.  Somebody pass the smashmallows.

Happy trails,

Solar Bear

"The true profession of a man is to find his way to himself."  Still looking, 
but I'm not finding any blazes.  :)
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