There's This Contest. I'm A Judge. It's Really Scary

Apparently I am highly qualified to serve as a judge for a contest to identify the scariest products around. Despite some of the crazy (and terrifying) stuff brought to my attention already, this is going to be a lot of fun. So what exactly is this contest? Well allow me to turn it over to Tracy, one crazy blogger and the creator of I Hate My Message Board. Take it away, Tracy.

The Contest

It is with great pride that I announce the first annual IHMMB Scary Product Contest. I’d be nothing without scary products like canned pupa and chicken in a can and I’m overjoyed – overwhelmed even – to be able to give back to the blogging community by hosting this award.

Find and photograph a product that is scary in a weird, unusual, wacky sort of way. This post or my Museum of Snack Foods are examples of the kind of scary we mean. Post the photos and any descriptions on your blog with a link back to this post and leave the URL of your entry in comments. If you don’t have a blog, you can post on Flickr and leave the photo URL in comments.

Judging will be based not only on the inherent creepiness of the product but creativity in presentation and description. Go wild! Make a diorama! Stop motion video! Write a play! Make a collage!

The Judges

Aside from myself, the judges panel consists of...

David of Blogger Dad (the brain-child of this contest and the logo designer)

Tracy of I Hate My Message Board (that's me)

Sean of Writer Dad

Margaret of Nanny Goats in Panties

J.D. of I Do Things

Ron of Clark Kent's Lunchbox

(you may have hear of him?)

We’ll be visiting all the entries and might just Stumble, Tweet or link your post on Facebook or our own blogs if it’s particularly good. We don’t want this just to be a contest, we want this to be a community building exercise. What does that mean? Danged if we know, but we highly encourage participants and spectators to go around to all the other entries – leave a comment, talk some smack, kiss some butt, whatever seems to be the thing to do at the time.

Because the surest way to form a bond with somebody is to ask them “What the heck is THAT?!?”

The Prizes

First Prize will receive a I Hate My Message Board t-shirt as discussed in this post and only now going into production. It won’t look exactly like my crude rendering, but the same idea. And also a genuine...

Cheeseburger in a Can mounted in a Lucite box with an engraved faux-brass name plate declaring the owner the winner of the First Annual I Hate My Message Board Scary Product Contest.

And of course bragging rights.

3 Runners Up will receive a random food item of my choice. Could be limited edition Pocky, could be those fish n’ cheese sausages I’ve been putting off forever. The real prize is the anticipation.

Official Rules

• Contest open to anyone, anywhere but if I can’t send you the prize because of customs regulations or other shipping problems, we’ll work out an alternate prize.
• All entries must be 100% your own photos and text. You can not use other people’s photos or text.
• All entries must have at least one photo and text to describe the item. You can do more than this, of course. We encourage you to go crazy!
• Absolutely nothing that involves cruelty to actual animals or people. We reserve the right to toss out any entries we find offensive or degrading.
• Link back to this post in your entry, either with a text link or logo button (provided below).
• Post the photo and description on your blog or your own flickr account and post the url in the comments of this post.
• We can’t accept entries by any other method than comments on this post.
• You may enter as often as you wish but each entry must be a separate blog entry/flickr photo and make one comment for each entry.
• Contest closes 11.59 PM CST October 29, 2009
• Winner will be announced by 11.59 PM CST October 31, 2009
• Winners will be notified by email, please comment using a valid email address that you check regularly. If we can’t reach you by 11.59 PM CST November 7th, we’ll give your prize to somebody else.

Suggestions

• Creativity counts for a lot
• So does enthusiasm – if it’s a tie-breaker, we’ll go for the person who helped us spread the word.
• Judges aren’t supposed to be bribed but you know I bet they’d be tickled pink if you offered.
• The more people participate the more everyone benefits. Who knows how many cool blogs and/or photographers this contest will introduce us to?
• Visit the other entries! Have fun!
• You can share your photos in our IHMMB Scary Product Flickr group (but still make sure you leave your url to your entry in comments)
• Join us on Facebook or Twitter - we’ll be sharing the judge’s current favorites and our own scary finds.
• If you like this contest, share it with friends. Any tweets, stumbles, sharing on Facebook or other social media is very much welcomed and appreciated.

Feel free to use the large graphic at the top of this post to share word about this contest, or you can use this button sized one:

Thanks Tracy! Well, everyone, let's see those entries. Have fun, y'all!

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Why I "Hate" Mattel Toys' CEO, Robert Eckert

Some of you may be aware of the American Girl Doll and it's latest addition to their line (yes, it's been out for 10 months). I'm not going to expound upon all the details except to share that the doll's name is "Gwen," a homeless child who sleeps in cars with her mother after after being evicted from their apartment because her dead-beat dad left them.

In an absurd twist, "Gwen" also retails for $95 clams, is nicely groomed, and dressed better than most kids. You can read the rest of the details HERE, but there are several issues that I took offense to with poor Gwen.

What follows is the letter I sent to Mattel's CEO, Robert Eckert, outlining those issues.

Mr. Robert A. Eckert
Chairman of the Board and Chief Executive Officer
Mattel, Inc.
333 Continental Boulevard
El Segundo, CA 90245-5012



Dear Mr. Eckert,

I am writing to express my extreme disappointment over your homeless American Girl Doll, “Gwen.” Although I can appreciate your company’s intent to raise awareness for homelessness, as a businessman with an executive level background in sales and marketing, I question your logic, first in determining a target market for which a product of this nature is appropriate, and secondly, in overlooking the obvious paradox in charging nearly one-hundred dollars for a toy representing extreme poverty. Mr. Eckart, this represents poor leadership on your part.

Mattel was once nationally recognized for its philanthropic contributions, but that reputation appears to have receded (again reflecting your deficient leadership during your five-year tenure). In this vein, I find it enigmatic that you failed to take a more proactive approach in the fight against homelessness. Why not create a doll called “Angel,” for example, who helps her father as a volunteer at a soup kitchen or who starts a clothing drive amongst her friends? How is it that you also didn’t think to donate a portion of the doll’s purchase price to a charity dedicated to helping the homeless?

However, Mr. Eckert, aside from the obscene irony in this product, what I take an even greater offense to is the negative representation of fatherhood included in “Gwen’s” back-story. As a stay-at-home dad with five children (three boys and two stepdaughters), I’m wondering why you felt the need to incorporate a dead-beat dad into the equation? How does this help the problem of homelessness? In no way am I defending irresponsible men, but they compose a small minority of fathers by comparison, so what reason justifies placing this cynical image into the arms of an eight year-old girl? On behalf of the millions of fathers who defy the societal stereotyping you are perpetuating, I would like to express what a great insult your “toy” represents.

Furthermore, the problems boys and young men are struggling with today are well publicized, and thus it is less than helpful to market a product that highlights men’s failures. This sends a discouraging message contrary to the original intent of the American Girl line. Instead of fostering positive self-esteem and empowerment, you are telling girls that they will be abandoned by men while at the same time saying to boys this is as high a mark as you will achieve.

Mr. Eckart, I realize that you may never read this letter, that you are probably sitting around some decadent conference table like the farcical executives of Mooby Cow in the movie Dogma, scrutinizing the latest rounds of earnings, while some assistant scans my words. However, I want you to be aware that I am publicizing this message on my blog Clark Kent’s Lunchbox. It has a modest following, with limited reach, but I’m hoping the viral power of social media to influence major corporations’ decisions will cause you to reconsider your poor judgment in merchandising the Gwen doll, as well as with similar products in the future. I’m also hoping that the $7 million in compensation that Forbes reported Mattel paid you in 2008 (along with the additional $6.2 million from your position at McDonalds) hasn’t insulated you from moral reason.

Am I on a high horse? Yes. But sometimes you have to ride one for worthwhile causes like the welfare of our children.

Sincerely,



Ron Mattocks
Writer / Concerned Father

I've been to the American Girl headquarters in Chicago (nearly losing my life--another funny story), and would have loved to see some real homeless child wander in carrying a Gwen doll for a tea party and hair appointment.

Normally, I don't ask for much of readers (I'm just thankful you stop by), but if you feel as strongly as I do, please forward this message through your Twitter, Facebook and other social networking channels. There's just too many idiotic things out there influencing our children to have one more, especially from a product line that once was a vaunted for reinforcing positive self-esteem.

UPDATE: TIME Magazine just named Gwen #1 on their Top 10 List of Dubious Toys

This post brought to you by the great dads (and moms) at Dad-Blogs and Fatherhood Friday.



And also by Kat's Friday series, Dear So & So

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I'm An Errant Parent

Today I am an errant parent... then again, when am I not? Anyway, I'd like to direct your attention to an essay of mine that was published by Errant Parent. If you've never read Errant Parent, it's an online magazine, "devoted exclusively to parenting-related humor with an irreverent, literary bent," and it showcases a number of different writers and contributors. It also has a Facebook Page you can join.

The magazine was created by the talented Whitney Collins who has been published a number of times to include The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature and McSweeney's (I'm jealous). Given Whitney's background and the caliber of writers she's collected for Errant Parent, I'm very honored to have a submission of mine featured in this magazine. I'm also very thankful for Whitney's support of Sugar Milk.

My essay, "Portion Control," involves parental trust issues and lots of vomiting. If you like it, please pass it along. If you hate it, then I hope you enjoy the rest of Errant Parent's content.

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Define Irony: My Wife Got Rear-Ended By A Stripper

Define Irony Part 1

Man writes post about practicality, minivan and a judgemental soccer mom.

Minivan gets wrecked in highway accident a week later.

Last week my wife was involved in a traffic wreck on the freeway as she came home from work. Thankfully, my precious wife was spared any injuries--not even any lingering soreness that we both anticipated the next morning. We are both grateful to say the least.

In a scene typical for rush-hour, Ashley approached the tail-end of the vehicular clog and slowed to a stop. Apparently, the girl behind her was apparently unfamiliar with this phenomena, however. She slammed her Mitsubishi Eclipse into the back of the minivan with enough force to shove it into the Chevy Tahoe ahead of Ashley. Again, thankfully there were no (real) injuries to anyone.

Define Irony Part 2

Woman has diagnosed anxiety issues. Woman gets in car wreck and takes charge in stressful moment.

The girl that rammed the minivan was a hysterical mess, and despite Ashley's anxiety she jumped in like a trooper and got this girl calmed down. Ash drew the line at accompanying her across 3 lanes of moving traffic to retrieve some unknown item that the girl was adamant about retrieving before the cops showed up. We're not sure what this item was, but pretty sure it was illegal... like maybe those turtles from South America (yeah, right).

Define Irony Part 3

Husband's phone get's destroyed and orders new one; in the meantime he uses wife's phone until arrives. Wife gets in accident and has no way to contact husband.

I have a habit of dropping calls--I mean my phone--which resulted in the need for a new cell. To ensure someone was around to sign for it, the phone company would only deliver to a business; hence, it arrives at my wife's office. She was bringing it home the night of the wreck. When anyone would ask if she had a phone, she'd hold up the package. "Yeah, it's right here. Can I borrow yours?" This only happens during those rare moments when you really need to have a cell phone on you.

Define Irony Part 4

Girl claims near crippling injuries to paramedics and is treated accordingly. Girl makes miraculous recovery once cops determine she is the cause of the wreck and is uninsured.

Apparently, this girl thought she was going to get a little bodily injury money out of the deal. When the police figured out what had happened, the girl got out of the ambulance and approached my wife and the driver of the Tahoe. "Didn't you guys already run into one another before I hit you?" My wife and the other lady just looked at her. Through the wonders of MySpace and Facebook, Ashley learned that the girl worked as an exotic dancer... and not a very attractive one at that (not that that would've made a difference). I saw the pictures: she could scare buzzards off a meat wagon setting in the desert sun.

Define Irony Part 5

Stepdaughter gets invitation to birthday party for Dear Soccer Mom's kid.

Man shows up to party in rental car and Dear Soccer Mom fails to recognize said man.

As we wait for the minivan to be fixed, the insurance company's covering a rental for us. The car is nothing special--a grey Pontiac sedan that I have no opinion about one way or the other. In fact the thing is so nondescript, I have trouble finding it in the parking lot. Twice, senior citizen groups on outings to the mall have assisted me in locating it. In both cases it was on the other side of the mall complex. The girls were excited about riding a new vehicle, but when I told them it was a Pontiac, Avery was confused. "I thought NPR said they weren't making these things anymore?" (I'm not kidding.)

When I showed up to the party, Dear Soccer wasn't sure if we had met before. She was also pretty quick to mention that I didn't need to stay. (I hadn't planned on it.) It didn't bother me, but I really hoped to explain to her how my wife got rear-ended by a stripper.

***

PS. If I haven't been to your blogs, returned your comments, or answered emails, forgive me. I'll get caught up this week. Between the wreck and then our Internet connection being on again / off again for a better part of the week, there's not been much time to get things done.

I'm very excited to share an article of mine about barf and trust issues that's being published Wednesday at the humorous parenting site Errant Parent.

Thanks for your comments and support of the cure for JM.

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