October 13, 2007
Komen! How could you?
I knew Jeanne could get down to the bottom of this!
I didn't think that Komen was the recipient of the donation from the Jingle Jugs since their wording was so vague. What a disgusting product. It's not funny. It's not cute like the singing fish. I really wanted them to be indignant and not affiliated in any way. Guess it just is all about money and marketing.
Jeanne found this photo.
Guess Komen can't discriminate against who gives them money? The whole, don't look a gift horse argument.
Shame on you. You should get a star subtracted from your Charity Navigator rating for this one!
~ For the type of person that'd buy this, there's already a device you can hang on the wall to look at a boob. It's called a mirror. - Peebert
~ Thanks S.A.E. for raising my awareness of breast cancer by offering me singing disembodied breasts displayed as a hunting trophy. I'm sending the check to your proud mothers. ~Salon.com
Clearly this will not do much business in Los Angeles......where a visit to any trendy bar on Friday night will guarantee at least 100 jiggling plastic boob sightings. (Alternate joke: If I wanted to see jiggling plastic boobs, I'd turn on MTV.)
~ ingle Jugs are clearly designed with a certain jovial-fratty-good old boy-bar vibe (and target audience) in mind; but there is something undeniably serial killer-esque about a pair of tits mounted on a wooden plaque. The gaudy red lettering on the box that declares Jingle Jugs to be "The Trophy Rack You've Always Wanted!" seems like it should be followed by "...If You Used To Torture Animals As A Child!" Indeed, the more you look at these disembodied, hyper-sexualized breasts, all trussed up for display, the creepier and more sinister the whole apparatus appears. You can almost hear the grim, knowing resignation in Horatio Caine's voice as he spies this grisly trophy on the blood-spattered wall of some psychopath's fetid underground lair. "He's a collector" he'd say, squinting. "Mounted breasts are his signature. He's sending us a message." Or, more probably, "He got his bust" (removes sunglasses) "And now he... is gonna get busted." ("WAAAAAAHHHHH!" Roll opening credits.)
But wait, there's more:
http://blogs.denverpost.com/lewis/2007/09/12/this-breast-cancer-thing-has-gone-too-far/ (story about how a strip bar owner donates $$ for breast cancer.
~ When I got the press release, I dug deep for my sense of huÂmor. All I unearthed was a heaping dose of female indignation. - Lucinda Breeding, Denton R-C on receiving a press release about Jugs Across America.
~ I'm happy that things like this exist because they provide me with really good acquaintance filters. If you own one, I'm pretty sure I don't want to know you.
I'm off to go get some anti-nausea meds!!
Posted by debutaunt at October 13, 2007 12:35 AMAs I said in my previous post-SICK--and I am really
amazed but should not be-that the Komen folks would take $ from this company.
Really degrading considering the cause.
This is not a bachelor party.
Posted by: Claire at October 13, 2007 08:05 AMI think the pre-requisite for granting a business license to any company wanting to utilize a woman's figure for their financial gain or entertainment should be to become care-takers for women in all the their worst moments of need ... except that women deserve better care and more respect than the brainless twits could ever muster.
Posted by: Bren/Cody'sMom at October 13, 2007 04:21 PMKomen doesn't need to take those donations any more than a holocaust museum needs to take $50,000 from an organization called 'Jews R Evil.' This is a sick form of denigration. Breast cancer isn't funny and the solution isn't funny. Playing to frat boys who want to squeeze 'em some hooters is ridiculous. It's a way of Jingle Boobs saying "see, we're funny and anyone who criticizes us just doesn't support breast cancer research." It's insulting to objectify women and make our breasts, which can be the source of fatal illness, into props for prurient, immature humor. Grow up, Jingle Boob people! Komen, learn that money is less important than having the right players on your team. For $50,000, or the annual salary of one middle-manager, JB gets to say that buying this disgusting product helps cure breast cancer. And they get a big, fat tax write-off to boot. Meanwhile, prostate cancer is dead serious. No one is selling singing prostate glands. That's not funny.
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