What do you buy the person who has everything? Nothing. F*ck ‘em. They’re either too rich for their own good or pathological hoarders like those lampooned on the television show by the same name.
Of course, an alternative to buying them a present is to steal something from them, repackage it and then when their birthday, Christmas or whatever comes around, give it straight back. They won’t even notice. In fact, they’ll probably compliment you on your good taste.
A third option, the smart option, guaranteed to relieve you of your gift buying obligations forever, is to jump online and buy them one of these ‘collector-quality vinyl’ Obama ‘Birth of Hope’ baby boy dolls. It’s the latest replica to be defecated in the delivery suite of the enduring House of Worthless Crap. And at only $200, it’s a small price to pay. Do the math: ‘Birth of Hope’ doll = death of friendship = problem solved.
Yes We Can (buy 'em) - but we probably won't
I mean, seriously – is there really a market for this kind of rubbish?
Would you buy a Baby Barack for a loved one?
Do we really want our kids playing ‘presidents’ in the bathtub?
I didn’t think so. Besides, it’s obvious we’re being conned.
Take a look at the doll’s face. See a resemblance?
If I didn’t know better I’d swear they’ve simply switched t-shirts and removed the weapon from the hand of the of the Baby OJ ‘Birth of an American Psycho’ doll; and what better time to move a mountain of worthless stock than at the end of the financial year. Why they didn’t replace the weapon with a fistful of American flags and string leis around his neck is a mystery to me and a sales opportunity lost.
Let’s face it, as a marketable commodity, Obama might be a good bloke, the first African-American leader of the United States, and the first of his presidential kind in quite some time to be capable of semi-independent thought and delivery of complex sentences without stumbling – but he’s no Action Jackson.
If anything, he’s more of a Long Dong Silver: ‘An impressive 20 inches long’. Strewth, Barbie would be gobsmacked, Cindy turkey-slapped, and Ken – confidence sapped – staring dejectedly at his little plastic mound. But will the addition of the XXX-factor appeal to the little old ladies and sh*t collectors the marketers are targeting?
Anyway, if you’d like to get your hands on one of these hot little friend-shedding babies (they come with authenticity certificate – much easier to get hold of than Barack’s birth certificate apparently), drop me a line and I’ll put you in touch with a distributor. And before you ask, the superseded line of George W Bush ‘Birth of a Bumbling Boofhead’ dolls that mumble unintelligibly and soil themselves at both ends, usually in public – has sold out.
Steve Wilkinson
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