Oh yes, my children. Even in the sanctuary of the cozy mom-n-pop coffee shoppe I found myself in this past weekend, there are creeping signs of The End to Come. Gaze now at our peril:
Imagine, if you will, the tiny little immigrant woman, stitching day into night and night into day, on tiny little down coats for bears. How does she not kill herself, how does she look into her own eyes!?!?!?!? Well ... I guess if my family got free soy no-whip lattes every hour on the hour, even I could be a whore for the Bad Guy.
Onward. Astute Armageddon-spotter Lee Ann sent me these two items.
Wait, let me catch my breath.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! What the blue hell is that thing?!? A doll, baby bear thing. You know I love dolls, right? I mean ... I just ... aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! I'm having involuntary spasms and urine leakage. I gotta go cry somewhere.
No, seriously ... take your hat off. Please.
This is one of those subsets of TBDOA that is worth mentioning. It is a phenomenon known as "putting teddy bear parts on or near the skull". I can't think of anything more defiling; can you?
By the way, taking pictures of cheap-ass merchandise at a State of Massachusetts DOT rest area is a really good way to get yelled at by a giant, uniform-clad lesbian (probably) with a nightstick and lots of keys.