It took years to stamp out the unspeakable evil of the holiday must-haves from the past: Teddy Ruxpin, Chatty Cathy, and of course, Furby 1.0. But this season we have seen the reemergence of the last of these three horrors, the one-time champion of toy store marathon hunting season: the new and improved Furby.
The tag line alone (A Mind Of Its Own!) is enough to make any Terminator fan run for the mountains and start stockpiling weapons, but the eyes... my GOD THE EYES. Watching you intently. Waiting for you to make a mistake. Recording your every move for rogue government agencies operating off the grid! No, wait, not that last one.
The point here is that this abomination ended up on one of the three lists I had to send to the North Pole this weekend, and I doubt that delightful, white-bearded rogue will be willing to cart this robotic minion of Satan around in his toy sack. Therefore, it falls to me to find this hellish thing and bring it into my home.
My wish for your families this season is for health, happiness, and lots of rare and delightful pop culture finds, but the significance of the much maligned Furby makes me frightened for us all. Children want it. We remember it fondly for some reason (I suspect our memories have been tampered with ) and soon we will all have one.
Someone call John Connor.