The Island of Misfit Toys

Now that I'm a parent, I often wonder what future blog fodder I might be exposing my child to.  Of course, I'm not going to be reading any Uncle Arthur stories at bedtime, and I won't be popping Return to Oz in the DVD player expecting Bert Lahr's jowls to be the scariest aspect of it, but it seems as though a certain amount of childhood trauma is inevitable.  This truth has recently been driven home for me since I've started having nightmares about alien giraffes.  Let me explain why.  First, a quick review--

This is what a giraffe looks like:
Note the horns.  (image via)

However, this is what a giraffe looks like on children's goods:
G: Giraffes have spots.
A: And, apparently, antennae.

 Here are a few other examples of the Alien Giraffe phenomenon:


And the weirdest one of all... the giraffe who was in a horrible spill at a chemical factory, and as the ooze pooled around his mangled feet, was transformed into this monstrosity:

Once you start noticing it, you'll begin to see hideous, smiling Island of Dr. Moreau-type creatures everywhere you look.  
To wit:
Front legs attached backwards, or the knuckle-walking monkey (not ape, note the tail) that evolution forgot?

A zebra with a dog's nose, or the white tiger that ate Roy--with a mohawk?
Then there are children's clothes.  Sometimes they have very helpful instructions embroidered on them:
(A useful reminder about reducing the risk of SIDS)
And sometimes, they offer really terrible advice:
What's next?  A romper with rattles that says "Shake me," a onesie with soccer balls that says "Kick me," or a footie pajama set with frolicking lambs that says "Marinate me, roast me until tender, then serve me with mint chutney"?
Lesson learned:
At least if you catch the mutant giraffe toy moving, you can kill it.

1 comment:

  1. Giraffe's don't have horns; they have ossicones. They're covered in fur and fluffy on top, but not THAT fluffy so as to make artists of children's books make them look like maracas. I've always found this odd too.