So Rainbow Brite apparently was given a makeover… by a ho. Some asshat at Hallmark decided that the heroine of my youth needed to be sexualized so she would be more acceptable to a younger generation of children that clearly only respond to tramps. What was once our round faced, adorable defender of colors, has now become the bastard child of Barbie’s one night stand with the Justin Timberlake looking doll from the Bratz collection. Lost is the innocent young Wisp who laid the smack down on Murky Dismal, she is replaced with a new sleek, slender Rainbow Brite who looks more at home reading Marie Claire than riding Starlite, who by the way looks like an uppity bitch now. Next thing you know the Star Sprinkles will be replaced by Slut Dust and Red Butler will be wearing assless chaps. And it’s not just her; Strawberry Shortcake got ho’d out too! She no longer smells like Strawberry Shortcake, instead that scent has been replace by *insert pop princess name here* new perfume.

Besides taking a poo on the beloved icons of 80’s youth, what is this doing to kid’s body images? I mean in Strawberry Shortcake we had a homely ginger who could rock just as hard as Barbie and her unrealistic body proportions. She was surrounded by friends and her pets and was generally loved by all she met. She even had a nemesis who would try to steal her berries, The Peculiar Purple Pieman of Porcupine Peak. She would throw a strawberry beating on him and it was all good in Strawberryland.

Okay so… honestly Strawberry Shortcake was a shit cartoon, but the point stands. Do we really have to sexualize everything to appeal to children? Shouldn’t we appeal to them with honesty, integrity, cute little faces, bravery and strength? Children see these cartoons and they want to be these characters. They want the clothes, toys and dolls. They want to wear the star belt and save the world. But to do that do you have to be a small svelte blond bimbo or can I pull it off as a brunette with curly hair that has chubby cheeks? To me children have always been like baking a cake, it’s only as good as the ingredients we use to make it. What do we give them? We give them an unrealistic body image to idolize and strive to become. You may as well give them a chopstick to shove down their throat so they can get used to the purging feeling.

God forbid that Hallmark gets hold of my vision of the old lady on the porch. She will have on a stripper outfit and will look like a 15 year old Asian prostitute.

Thirty mins after her call I ripped into the hospital parking lot and haul ass (okay so more of a brisk walking ass, I only run if being chased or some shit is falling) to pops room. I expect crash carts and George Clooney, instead I see my dad making rude gestures at the nurse, his face covered in thick medical tape. I sense a WTF and FML moment.

Apparently the pressure on the mask was so high it was causing the mask to blow off his face. The lack of o2 caused his stats to crash rapidly, he became agitated and started to loose his breath. The nurse freaks out and calls me, drops pop a craptop of joy juice to calm him and procedes to figure out the issue and tapes the mask to dads face. Pop wakes up, sees the half pound of medical duct tape on his face and cusses out the nurse in country man sign language. I think he called her a cow or he could have been insulting her weave. Either way o2 is back up and he is back to stable. So far the doc has decided to keep him off the vent as long as possible.

Side note, my pants totally fell down in the hospital lobby while carrying food. I basically mooned a hospital.