Wherein Cassie bitches about the stupidest TV-show tie-in products she’s ever seen. A new and irregular (God, I hope so) feature.
Today’s “Sick Sad World Special Edition” Item:
MTV has created an adult Daria costume.
“If you like to march (in combat boots) to the beat of your own drum, then you will love our Daria Costume! This Daria Costume resembles the exact outfit she wore on the show, including her green jacket and knee length black skirt. All you have to add is attitude!”
Just let that sink in for a second. All the way in.
And is it just me or does the face on that “model” look more like a mannequin? Those glassy eyes, those painted lips. That vacant, vaguely-nebbish stare.
Is this some new, heretofore unimaginable level of irony? Is MTV having one over on us? Would anyone actually buy this? Why don’t they give us the shoes, too? What the hell is going on here?
Today’s “That’s So Fucking Tasteless It’s Almost Glorious Memorial Trash Bag-A-Go-Go”:
“Dexter Trash Bags: for when you absolutely, positively must remove all the evidence. Big, heavy duty, black trash bags are just what the blood-splatter analyst ordered. And now you can too! Get yourself some Dexter Trash Bags and take your justice to the curb!”
Official. Licensed. $13 a pop from Showtime. There’s something beautiful about a merchandising item that is designed to go straight into a landfill almost immediately. Never mind the tasteless association implying the audience are a bunch of psychopathic killers with a lot of ‘fresh meat’ to hide; I’m sitting here wondering if they’re biodegradable, and also wondering how the hell it’s good cross promotion if you don’t even put the series logo on the bag so all your neighbors can tell you like to watch murder TV in the dark. No, it’s special trash bags for “special” trash. I’m not sure if this is marketing genius (remember, there’s no difference between these and your regular trash bags except the additional $10 markup plus shipping and handling) – what’s to stop you from going to the store and buying a regular ol’ box and just SAYING that they’re super special murder bags?
I don’t understand the world any more. I just don’t.
Special “Go Die Horribly In A Rotten Pile Of Diseased Florgnar You Revolting, Miserable Stinkyfuck Earth-Pigs” Addendum:
Okay, picking on Invader Zim merchandise really isn’t fair. It’s been terribly skewed toward stupid GIR crap for years and years and really, this isn’t a surprise to anyone – except the show runners, and any fan with even one brain cell functioning above room temperature. I, myself, helped create some not-nearly-so-terrible Zim merch in the form of the Palisades toy line back in the day.
But among the piles of terrible, terrible GIR-related merch, this one just… jumps out at me for some reason.
Did you even watch the show? Really? Even a little? Like the Daria blasphemy up there, this one just strikes me as beyond the top of ridiculous. At least the damn trash bags were actually in tune with the theme of their show.
This shirt would only be appropriate if it had GIR vomiting rainbows out of every orifice while sobbing incoherently, backed by screaming heads yelling WHYYYYYYYYY in giant pink text.
Come to think of it, I’d probably buy that shirt.
Today’s “All Good Children Drink The Blood of the Innocent From the Black Grail” item:
Disney is selling a cup made out of the lower half of Minnie Mouse’s pants.
“Minnie’s trademark polka-dot skirt and pantaloons make this a silly cartoon cup for any hot beverage!”
I’m not drinking out of that. It’s bad enough that they have a cookie jar which is made out of Mickey’s pants and the top of his skull, but I have to draw a line at drinking coffee out of a girl mouse’s severed groin and torso. How could anyone even put this to their lips without feeling, at the least, a little bit creepy and horrible? How can you disconnect that thoroughly? There is a significant body of thought that notes Disney’s obsession in his cartoons with body humor (I believe it was in Richard Scheikel’s book), but this just goes that one extra unholy step too far.