In December 2000, just as George Bush was preparing to stroll into the White House for what would become a two-term presidency, parents all over the country were scrambling desperately around toy shops trying to locate the year's hottest items on their kids' Christmas lists: razor scooters and Teksta, a robotic puppy who had become the de facto mascot of the next generation in animatronic interactive toys – complete with a collection of responsive sensors and a programmable mode, Teksta responded to stimulus and could even be "trained."
Heeling at the feet of the tech boom, reflective of both cutting-edge scientific advancements and a vibrant global economy, Teksta was a perfectly suited symbol and homage to outgoing President Clinton's presidency, even if Teksta were slightly better behaved.
Eight years later, as President Bush prepares to stroll back out of the White House and head back to Texas, this year's hot toy is a doll that shits all over the place.
Baby Alive Learns to Potty (a name that must have the anti-choicers drooling with excitement) is an animatronic doll which comes with "green beans" and "bananas" that go in one end and come out the other, an exciting little happenstance that is announced by Baby Alive with adorable exclamations such as, "Sniff sniff – I made a stinky!"
The senior brand manager for Hasbro, which produces Baby Alive, Kathleen Harrington, calls the dolls' toileting "pretty magical." Unfortunately, the doll does not come with a magic wand for mom or dad to clean up the messes it makes:
"Be careful," reads the doll's promotional literature, "just like real life, sometimes she can hold it until she gets to the 'potty' and sometimes she can't!" (A warning on the back of the box reads: "May stain some surfaces.")
Precious!
Naturally, it would be deeply improper for me to suggest that an execrable doll which turns good stuff into utter waste, proudly announces its mistakes, and leaves indelible stains on everything it touches is an exemplary icon for the Bush presidency, so I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing.
Then again, I always say: If the shoe fits…
…throw it at the nearest guy whose swift departure from the White House is the only Christmas pressie you need this year.
Fits in a stocking, too.