Alpha Dominance

Hat tip to Hawaiian Libertarian for these gems from The Onion.  I suggest reading his whole post as several others were included there.  I chose these two because they particularly highlight the fundamental problems with American women.  First, a riff on a positive body-image Barbie knockoff; hilarity.  This illustrates the fact that women who wail about body images and the media are barking up the wrong tree.

EL SEGUNDO, CA—Executives at Mattel Inc. held a press conference Monday to unveil the toy company’s latest product, Plain Pamela, a homely doll designed to boost the confidence of girls ages 7 to 12.

Girls of all ages can spend hours feeling superior to the squat, unappealing doll.

The pale, unsightly plaything, which has a plastic torso scaled to the proportions of a 5-foot-4, 179-pound woman in her mid-30s, is being touted as the first toy expressly intended to raise the sense of physical and emotional self-worth in preteen females.

“While we still value our classic Barbie franchise, we understand the need for dolls that offer an alternative body image,” Mattel CEO Robert Eckert said. “And that’s why we’ve created Plain Pamela. She’s drab, she’s dumpy, she’s nothing to write home about, and she’s going to make the girls of America feel like beauty queens.”

Added Eckert, “Relatively speaking.”

Mattel, which has been criticized in the past for promoting unrealistic standards of beauty, claimed that the new doll would not only improve the self-esteem of growing girls, but would also give them someone to feel superior to for hours on end.

Modestly priced at $7.99, each Plain Pamela doll comes prepackaged with a variety of unflattering and ill-fitting blouses to drape over her shapeless torso, as well as a packet of paste-on psoriasis spots to apply along her arms and back.

Mattel designers have also included a button at the base of the doll’s pudgy neck that randomly plays one of 24 preprogrammed phrases, including “I wish I was pretty like you,” “That’s okay, you go out and have fun without me,” and “Ugh.”

“Kids today want toys that are highly customizable,” Eckert said. “Which is why every Plain Pamela comes with four interchangeable hairstyles: Just-Woke-Up, Too-Long, Too-Short, and What’s-the-Point-of-Even-Trying-Anymore-It’s-Not-Like-It’s-Going-to-Make-a-Difference. Girls are going to love deciding which of Pamela’s hairdos makes them look prettier by comparison.”

“Plus, each doll comes with a variety of fun, ego-enhancing features that will allow girls to feel better about themselves as they help Pamela fit into her size-14 doll pants or wipe refillable ‘tears’ from her swollen face,” Eckert added. “This is a huge leap forward in body-positive toys.”

Mattel plans in the future to sell a number of playsets for the doll, including the Plain Pamela Cramped Studio Apartment, complete with special Dinner-for-One Kitchenette and Depressing Stack of Old People Magazines.

If Plain Pamela catches on with kids, company officials said, she may soon be joined by an entire line of fun, psychologically reassuring friends. Already in the works for the fall are Lil’-Too-Drunk Linda, whose debilitating dependence on alcohol will make any girl feel better about her own unstable home life, and Plain Pamela’s Sympathetic Gay Friend, Craig.

Medical consultants for Mattel have confirmed that the poorly postured and overly awkward doll can effectively serve as an image-enhancing device for children.

“Preliminary tests have shown that as little as one hour of playtime with Plain Pamela can make even the frumpiest, least self-assured young girl feel remarkably positive about her own physical attributes,” Mattel child psychologist Dr. Martin Janosch said. “Which, if you’ve seen the Plain Pamela doll, is not entirely surprising.”

Added Dr. Janosch, “She’s not exactly easy on the eye.”

Mattel also announced that it would begin production next year on Timorous Tim, a fey, cowardly action figure designed to boost the confidence of shy young boys.

The second is a point/counterpoint format article on the sluttyness of American women abroad.  Wonderfully written and damn funny.  Enjoy.

Point

European Men Are So Much More Romantic Than American Men

By Alyssa Lerner
Junior, Boston University

I just got back from a semester abroad in Europe, and let me tell you, it truly was the most magical, amazing experience of my entire life. The French countryside was like something out of a storybook, the Roman ruins were magnificent, and the men, well, European men are by far the most romantic in the world.

You American men all think you’re so suave and sophisticated. Well, think again! European men make you look like the immature, inexperienced little children you are. They really know how to make a woman feel special over there. Unlike the so-called men here in the States, European men know how to treat a woman right.

For one thing, European men aren’t afraid to come up and talk to you. And they know how to start slow, with a nice cup of Italian espresso or a long walk on some historic street. They know the places you can’t find in any tourist guide. They know the whole history of the cities in which they live—who the fountains are named after, who the statues are.

I remember one unforgettable night in Athens, I sat and listened to a Greek sailor for hours as he told me about the countless men who fought over Helen back in ancient times. Afterward, he told me he loved his homeland even more now that he’d seen it through my eyes. I ask you, would an American man ever say something as deep and beautiful as that?

European men know the most romantic little cafés and bistros and trattorias, candlelit places where you can be alone and drink the most fantastic wine. They tell you what’s on the menu and what you should try. (If it wasn’t for a certain young man in Milan, I never would have discovered fusilli a spinaci et scampi.) And the whole time, they’re looking deep into your eyes, like you’re the only woman on the entire planet. What woman could resist a man like that? Then, after a moonlit stroll along the waterfront and a kiss in the doorway of their artist’s loft, you find yourself unable to—well, I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.

I’ll never forget my magical semester abroad. One thing’s for sure—I’m ruined for American men forever!

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Counterpoint

American Women Studying In Europe Are Unbelievably Easy

By Giovanni Di Salvi

I’m a 25-year-old carpenter living in Rome, and I don’t mind telling you that I get all the action I can handle. I’m not all that handsome or well-dressed, and I’m certainly not rich. In fact, my Italian countrywomen could take me or leave me. But that’s just fine, because Rome gets loads of tourist traffic, and American co-eds traveling through Europe are without a doubt the easiest lays in the world.

Being European gives me a hell of an advantage. I’m not sure why, but there’s something about the accent that opens a lot of doors. All you have to do is go up to them, act a little shy and say, “Whould hyou like to go with me, Signorina, for a café?” I actually have to thicken up my accent a little, but they never, ever catch on.

After a cheap coffee, which to them always tastes better than anything they’ve ever had, because they’re in Europe, it’s time to walk them. Now, all they know about Rome is what they’ve read in Let’s Go, so you can pretty much just make up a whole bunch of shit. It’s fun to see how much they’ll swallow: As long as I refer to Italy as “my homeland” and other Italians as “my people,” they’ll believe pretty much anything. I don’t know who most of the local statues are, so I tell the muffins they’re all great artists and poets and lovers. Once, just for the hell of it, I told a psychology major from the University of Maryland that a public staircase was part of the Spanish Steps, which she’d never even heard of. Another time, I told this blonde from Michigan State that the public library was the Parthenon, and she cooed like I’d just given her a diamond.

For dinner, I usually take them to some cheap little hole in the wall, someplace deserted where not even the cops eat. American girls think candlelight means “romance,” not “deteriorating public utilities,” so they just poke their nipples through their J. Crew sweaters and never notice that there’s no electricity. Just as well, because Roman restaurants aren’t exactly the cleanest. After a bunch of fast-talk about the menu, I get them the special, which is usually some anonymous pasta with spinach and day-old shrimp, and whatever cheap, generic, Pope’s-blood chianti’s at the bottom of the list.

By this time, they’re usually standing in a slippery little puddle. Going in for the kill, I walk them past one of Rome’s famous 2,000-year-old open cesspools. Then, as we open the door to my shitty efficiency, I kiss them on the eyelids so they don’t see the roaches, making sure the first thing they see is the strategically positioned artist’s easel I bought at some church sale. That’s usually all they need to see and, like clockwork, they fall backwards on my bed with their Birkenstocks in the air.

I mean, they’re hardly Italian women, but we have a saying here in Europe: Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?

I busted up laughing aloud.  Just the thing to launch a three day weekend with a rip-roaring positive attitude.  Don’t forget to visit Hawaiian Libertarian for the rest, you won’t be sorry.