A happy Sunday, my darling readers!
The other day, my mother posted a link on my Facebook Timeline (yes, my mother has a Facebook and, yes, I have Timeline...these are both old news, get over it), that Hasbro is re-introducing one of their most popular toys: Furby.
I was 6 years old when the original Furby released in 1998, and like everyone I knew at the time, I wanted one, because they looked so damn cute, and also I secretly wanted a Gremlin (seriously, have you SEEN Gizmo? He's like the cutest thing to ever exist).
How can you say no to that face?
But what Hasbro appears not to realize is that while Furby may have made them more money than Lincoln Logs could ever possibly hope to be worth (which, by the way, is complete crap, because Lincoln Logs were the definition of awesome), no one actually liked their Furbies. What appeared to be an adorable, fuzzy knock-off of the pet every child born after 1984 ever wanted was actually a demonic, bird-like doll from Hell that most of the world was intent on destroying.
The look on its face says "I will destroy everything you love."
Hasbro, if you're listening, I'm begging you not to release these little monsters back into the homes of children everywhere. I, for one, gave mine a proper burial in the bottom of my closet for many years before finally getting rid of it. And if you don't believe that I'm not the only one who has a reason to want them gone, I suggest searching YouTube for the phrase "death to furby." There are guys there with firecrackers and drills who would gladly vouch for me.
Having nightmares about the Furby Apocalypse,