So here’s the deal: The Hello Kitty thing?
I’m just. Not. Into. It.
Matter of fact, my aversion to the mouthless creature has steadily swollen—not unlike her head— over the years.
It’s not just because the creature’s a scene-o-type as overplayed as Fall Out Boy’s greatest hits
(ditto, tiaras—leave ‘em to Quinceneras, Scenario Dawson: what do you think this is, 2007?);
nor is it the result of the anti-feminist mentality in which she’s so flagrantly mired
(the fact that she lacks a mouth implies that she has no voice—i.e., it functions as a visual signifier for the notion that females are docile, harmless, submissive and frail);
instead, it’s the sum of aforementioned, and the fact that this seemingly innocuous emblem of corporate consumption has evolved into a full-blown omnipotent presence.
Sure, there are moments in which I feel I’ve become a bitter old queen*, or as if I’m the Grinch of Sanrioville—
though recently I discovered a source of salvation through
Hello Kitty Hell: One Man’s Life With Cute Overload.
I couldn’t help but feel an immediate camaraderie with this Canadian dude who inadvertently spawned his allergy to The Evil Feline by encouraging his wife to pursue a business venture doing something she enjoys.
Whether or not you’re a fan of that critter whose name includes a salutation, I feel it necessary to share this post, as we’e got a serious case of fagswag to analyze here, folks.
EXHIBIT A:
The comments tend to veer toward LOLercaust territory, as well. Darlene, a “repeat offender” in the Department of Commentary, is a brilliant construct. Nonetheless, the veracity of her existence is mere conjecture on my part (a fancy way of saying “Hey baby, don’t even try to hate crime me for hinting that any J.T. Leroy action might be goin’ on here. Aiiight?)
CHECK IT:
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