S.G. Browne

Ordinary Zombie

A friend asked me what the difference was between an ordinary zombie and a dysfunctional zombie.  So I explained.

An ordinary zombie is just dealing with the fact that he has no rights and that he has to obey the rules of a discriminatory society that reviles him, all while dealing with his gradually decomposing body and the smell of hydrogen sulphide escaping from his various orifices and the embarrassment of having one of his main body cavities burst open in public.

A dysfunctional zombie, on the other hand, would be subversive and belligerent and would likely end up being sent off to the county redistribution center to be used for cadaver impact testing or left out to rot on a hill to help in the scientific study of criminal forensics.  Or else he could end up with his head in a chicken roasting pan at a face-lift refresher course for budding plastic surgeons.

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Filed under: Zombies — S.G. Browne @ 8:41 am

Crack Addict Toy Stores

I’ve always enjoyed hanging out in toy stores.

Not the toy stores in shopping malls or the stores that have educational toys and games that teach children about nature and the environment. Please.

No, I’m talking about the crack houses of toy stores. The ones bursting with the colors of an acid trip and stocked with syringes of over-indulgence. The ones filled with a variety of narcotics to feed the addictions of the future consumers of the world.

The Disney Store.
FAO Schwarz.
Toys “R” Us.

With six different locations in Manhattan alone, the Disney Store may be the most insidious of the three, and while FAO Schwarz has a definite edge in high-end temptation with its Fifth Avenue address, my favorite toy store for pure, unadulterated addiction is Toys “R” Us.

Located in Times Square, the flagship of Toys “R” Us is the place to get the mass-produced drugs, the crystal methamphetamine of toys made affordable to those children whose parents aren’t wealthy enough to shop at FAO Schwarz or who can’t afford to clothe their children in everything Disney. Sure, it has a sixty-foot-tall indoor Ferris wheel, a thirty-four-foot animatronic T-Rex from Jurassic Park, and a life-sized Candyland board game. But it remains accessible and affordable to the masses.

At Toys “R” Us you’ll find just about everything for the consumer-in-training.

Legos and action figures and collectible toys.
Hot Wheels and scooters and pedal cars.
MP3 players and video games and DVDs.

But the drug of choice at Toys “R” Us, the epitome of consumer addiction, is Barbie.

Standing two floors tall, Barbie’s Dollhouse is home to everything Barbie – her various personas, clothes, vehicles, homes, furniture, toys, friends, lovers, pets, and activities. It’s like the Emerald City, except it glows a bright, cornea-burning pink.

Up and down the seemingly endless streets of Barbie’s city, you’ll find all of the pursuits a twenty-first-century capitalistic plastic icon needs: a supermarket, a swimming pool, a roller rink, a volleyball court, a movie theater, a twenty-four-hour gym, a hair salon, a culinary school, a plastic surgery clinic, a yoga studio, a laser hair removal spa, and a gynecologist’s office.

And to make sure she’s never underdressed, Barbie owns over one hundred and twenty different outfits, so no matter where she goes, she’ll look stylish knowing she won’t have to wear any single outfit more than three times in a calendar year. And with a Kool-Aid stand and a bubble gum shop to hone her entrepreneurial skills, Barbie never has to worry about being able to afford her house, motor home, pool, hot tub, horse stable, or karaoke machine.

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Filed under: Just Blogging — S.G. Browne @ 8:05 am