Great, this will free up tons of trunk space
In what just might be the single dumbest and most unnecessary invention ever, check out the "Buddy on Demand"–an inflatable man conveniently contained in a car's glove compartment that "solo female motorists" can inflate and deflate with the click of a button to make themselves "feel safer" while driving at night.
Yeah... I must have missed that quorum when it was decided that women now have to feel and act like weak, helpless victims when we're traveling alone after dark IN A FREAKING CAR.
Come to think of it, at the time I was probably busy doing something to mechanically court male approval or perpetuate society's unrealistic standards of beauty–you know, setting back all that hard work my fellow females are doing to pump up the collective strength of our sex.
Seriously, am I just weird for not fearing for my safety when I'm moving at a relatively high rate of speed encased in a cocoon of metal and glass–but without a may-un, even a plastic, creepy-ass facsimile of one, to protect me?
What remotely plausible yet still horrible vehicular calamity is going to befall me that for some reason would not happen or would play out less negatively if there were a man in the passenger seat? Is a deer going to bound out in front of my car, see that there's what appears to be a guy inside, then reverse in mid-air and change its mind about crashing through my windshield? Is that oblivious idiot on the cell phone going to wait for me and my seemingly wanted self to pass through the green light before stepping into oncoming, nocturnal loser traffic instead?
If you want to get really improbable, is a carjacker or other miscellaneous criminal going to be scared off by some Ken-doll looking, oddly stationary tool who lets the woman drive?
For if these fragile femmes want to be really safe, shouldn't the inflatable man be in the driver's seat? Everyone knows women can't drive–you're just asking for an accident if you take the wheel. Hell, while we're at it, we should just get with some of the world's more progressive nations and require women to have male escorts in order to leave the house via any mode of transport.
And for those women who are so brainwashed as to fear any form of unsolicited male attention from whatever distance and through all manner of physical and social barriers, I would imagine having an inflatable man next to you whilst idling at a stoplight would draw far more lascivious looks and cat-calls (not to mention good old-fashioned WTF?s) than you're capable of drawing solo.
Not that you should ditch your blow-up boy-toy, ladies–until he learns to deflate himself, he's probably the only sort, of either gender, that can stand you.
Indeed, this is a pretty wide detour off the already bumpy and carrion-littered highway that is contemporary feminism–and aren't women supposed to be the ones who stop and ask for directions? Apparently not if they have to exercise some of that alleged independence and do it alone.
Yeah... I must have missed that quorum when it was decided that women now have to feel and act like weak, helpless victims when we're traveling alone after dark IN A FREAKING CAR.
Come to think of it, at the time I was probably busy doing something to mechanically court male approval or perpetuate society's unrealistic standards of beauty–you know, setting back all that hard work my fellow females are doing to pump up the collective strength of our sex.
Seriously, am I just weird for not fearing for my safety when I'm moving at a relatively high rate of speed encased in a cocoon of metal and glass–but without a may-un, even a plastic, creepy-ass facsimile of one, to protect me?
What remotely plausible yet still horrible vehicular calamity is going to befall me that for some reason would not happen or would play out less negatively if there were a man in the passenger seat? Is a deer going to bound out in front of my car, see that there's what appears to be a guy inside, then reverse in mid-air and change its mind about crashing through my windshield? Is that oblivious idiot on the cell phone going to wait for me and my seemingly wanted self to pass through the green light before stepping into oncoming, nocturnal loser traffic instead?
If you want to get really improbable, is a carjacker or other miscellaneous criminal going to be scared off by some Ken-doll looking, oddly stationary tool who lets the woman drive?
For if these fragile femmes want to be really safe, shouldn't the inflatable man be in the driver's seat? Everyone knows women can't drive–you're just asking for an accident if you take the wheel. Hell, while we're at it, we should just get with some of the world's more progressive nations and require women to have male escorts in order to leave the house via any mode of transport.
And for those women who are so brainwashed as to fear any form of unsolicited male attention from whatever distance and through all manner of physical and social barriers, I would imagine having an inflatable man next to you whilst idling at a stoplight would draw far more lascivious looks and cat-calls (not to mention good old-fashioned WTF?s) than you're capable of drawing solo.
Not that you should ditch your blow-up boy-toy, ladies–until he learns to deflate himself, he's probably the only sort, of either gender, that can stand you.
Indeed, this is a pretty wide detour off the already bumpy and carrion-littered highway that is contemporary feminism–and aren't women supposed to be the ones who stop and ask for directions? Apparently not if they have to exercise some of that alleged independence and do it alone.
posted by Holly at 2:28 AM
<< Home