I live in a modest 3/2 condo with my husband and godchild. We have one van, an old truck, and a jon boat. We live simply, but well, considering the dire economic situation. Yet within the confines of our humble abode dwell scores of impossibly coiffed, voluptuous uber consumers that never seem to be satisfied with what they have.
These creatures are called BARBIES.
Our Barbies have an SUV, a camper equipped with a full bath, a new sports car, bicycles, a townhouse, elegant furnishings, flat screen TVs, cell phones, and the latest fashions. Yet with every new day, they seem to want more. And more. They are truly insatiable.
It's not that I have anything against Barbie herself. I had one of my own, in the long ago and faraway days when there was just one of her. My parents fashioned furniture for her, and even created homespun attire. I have fond memories of those days.
But TODAY! These Barbie clones are never-ending. In every store, there is yet another sitting on the shelf, begging to be bought.
They are frightening.
Perhaps we should take a momentary eye away from the world's ever increasing problems and focus upon the enemy within our own homes.
War on Barbies.
Think about it.
Friday, January 8, 2010
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