Law and Disorder: Barbiecide

I confess.
So what? You wanna fight about it?
That's right, I'm 'fessing up brotherman. Cancel the APB, recall the fighters, take us to DefCon 5 and for god's sake Dithers, call off the bloody hounds.
Excellent.
I admit it. I used to torture dolls. Well, torture as it is defined by the New York Times. Strip off their clothes and tie a rope around them while taking pictures, hanging them from bannisters and fire escapes, snatched from the warm embrace of my cousin and her friends.
Don't get your panties in a wad.
Nothing sick.
We'd toss them up into the air and sometimes pretend they were darts. Oh and sometimes we pulled the heads off of them and reattached them like that mad scientist guy in the Reanimator. We'd switch their heads and bend their legs backwards, enjoying the visceral little clicking of their tiny plastic joints ,pretending that bones and ligaments were beign torn asunder!!!
MWUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Ok. I grant you, that is a little twisted but better Barbie than G.I. Joe. We needed to make sure that our combat vets would return from battling COBRA and the evil Clay Swamp Thing Monster.
Hey, just imagine two pounds of pissed off, totally evil, all purpose modeling clay thats been mutated by toxic radiation from that pit of man made environmental disaster zone known as Elizabeth, New Jersey bearing down on a G.I. Joe with a broken skystriker and down to his last Hawk Missle and one clip on his infantry rifle.
Yeah, now you see why Barbie had to be sacrificed.
Thanks to lessons learned battling the demons spawned from the fertile imagination of a young boy locked in his room on rainy Saturday afternoons, I pioneered several research and development projects that led directly to life saving surgery techniques that greatly enhanced the service life of a three inch Snake Eyes Action Figure.
Yes. I said Action Figure. Not Doll.
Action Figure.
Get it right.
If we had to sacrifice a few dainty Barbie dolls for the common good, well, that's just the price of fun.
And you know what? I would gladly pay it all over again.
Don't get me wrong, it wasn't all flaming matches, snapped joints, bad haircuts, decapitations and dismemberment. Those lovely mythical and entirely inappropriately dimensioned ladies were vital to our fledgeling Paratrooper testing program. They volunteered to test out parachutes and we dutifully tossed their cute little asses off the roof. They usually survived.
Usually.
Mean? Yes.
Sadistic? Probably.
Am I remorseful?
HA!
I would like to tell you that as I look back on those days that I am filled with remorse and heavy hearted sorrow, but I could never do that.
Not with a straight face anyway.
Look. It's what boys do to dolls. At least, it's what we did. There were a few exceptions to the rule. I knew some guys that like to play dress up with the dollies.
Of course, they are performing twice weekly in the all Diva review in the East Village but I'm sure that it had nothing to do with the fact that they played with dolls in the manner perscribed on the packaging.
Not that there is anything wrong with that.
But I couldn't even say that with a straight face let alone feel badly about it. The Green Army men have suffered far worse indignities as a general rule.
Many a Green Army man has fallen prey to Firecrackers, magnifying glasses and prolonged exothermic mutogenic modification therapy.
What?
What do you mean that doesn't make sense?
Sheesh, we melted them with lighters ok?
You know what the really interesting thing is? I found out that girls were harder on their dolls than we were. I read an article that reviewed some findings by the University of Bath.
Hmm, bath.
That was something I NEVER did with a Barbie doll - though I will admit that I found the idea oddly exciting. Oh like you never thought of bathing with women before...
That's basically all I have for today. Spanking Barbies is ok.
Well, now you know.
And knowing is half the battle.