Posted on 03/08/2002 3:37:09 PM PST by Pokey78
I WASN'T surprised to hear the Iranian government has gone into the doll business. A subsidiary of the ministry of education has introduced "Sara", dressed in traditional Islamic garb, and her brother, "Dara", to counter the influence of dolls from the Great Satan. "Dara and Sara are strategic products to preserve our national identity," toy seller Mehdi Hedayet told the BBC. "It is an answer to Barbie and Ken."
Barbie, with her prominent bust and wanton clothing, has caused some concern among Iranian parents, and, as for Ken, there've been persistent rumours that he's a bit light on his loafers. "I think every Barbie doll is more harmful than an American missile," said fellow toy seller Masoumeh Rahimi.
Well, it wasn't news to me. A few days earlier, I'd swung by the new store, Toys bin Us, only to find my old friend, style guru Armand Croissant, behind the counter. "Culturally appropriate dolls are where it's at," he said. "Just ask UN Barbie." He delved in his box and produced Human Rights Commissioner Mary Barbieson. "She comes with 10 pairs of sensible shoes, but only one speech. What's that, Mary?" He bent down and held her close to his ear. "She says we need to do more to reach out to Middle Eastern countries."
"And how do we do that?" I asked.
"Easy," said Armand, and pulled out a familiar bearded figure with a green camouflage jacket over his robes. "Meet Osama ken Laden. One of our biggest sellers. He's completely lifelike. In every respect."
I peeked under his tunic. "But he's got no private parts."
"Hold him up to the light," said Armand.
I peered closely. "Oh, yeah. Now I see." I put him back on the counter. "But his beard's too dark. It should be greyer."
"Well, that's Osama when he was younger," explained Armand. "It's like Barbie. We've got him in several different models."
I said I wouldn't mind seeing the latest and Armand passed over the box.
"There's nothing in here," I said.
"It's DNA Osama," he sighed wearily. "You have to look carefully. He comes with his own cave and you can have endless hours of fun sprinkling him in different corners."
"To be honest, I was looking for something I could dress up," I said. "Mix'n'match outfits."
Armand disappeared below the counter and emerged with a trim little doll and a huge box of multicoloured clothes. "Meet Hamid Barbai, the interim leader of Barbistan. He comes with 270 chapans and 632 different lambskin karakuls in assorted colours. But, while he's changing in and out of his many outfits, Warlord Ken is consolidating his grip on the remote northern province." He held up a ferocious looking Tajik doll.
"Phew," I grimaced. "He's a bit ripe."
"Well, he has only one tunic and he's been wearing it all winter. He comes complete with his fair-weather friend, Talibarbie. Whoops, is that the Northern Alliance coming?" He pressed a button in Talibarbie's back and the full beard fell away and dropped to the floor. "Voila! Uzbek Ken. He's never liked Mullah Omar."
But by now I was in the mood for something a little different. Armand showed me Saudi Ken, with the detachable head in case he turns out to be gay, and Suicide Ken, complete with plastic explosives to strap to his chest and 72 Virgin Barbies to pleasure him in paradise, and the new culturally authentic Nigerian doll, Female Circumcised Barbie.
But he could see the colour draining from my face and moved swiftly on. "We've got the exclusive contract from the Zimbabwean government for this one. Southern Africa's hottest seller, here he is - Robert Mubarbie." He turned the key in the back and the Zimbabwean leader loped along the counter in his familiar camp gait.
"Is he easy to wind up?"
"I'll say." Armand whipped out a Ken doll. "Hey, Bob. Didn't I see you in Heaven last night?"
The Mubarbie doll spun around and his little jaw moved up and down. "You filthy British homosexual!" he yelled at Ken in a tinny voice. "You are lower than pigs!"
"I'm impressed," I admitted. "Does he have any friends?"
"More than you'd think," said Armand, and handed me Kommonwealth Konference Ken.
I pulled the string in his back, but nothing happened. "He's useless," I complained. "He doesn't do a thing."
"Nonsense," said Armand. "Look at him. He's expressing `deep concern'."
Well, I decided I was looking for something a little more robust. So Armand unveiled his latest doll, Tony Blarbie, who didn't seem to care much for either Robert Mubarbie or Kommonwealth Konference Ken. "Tony has three statements of moral indignation, and he repeats them over and over, regardless of whether you pull his string or not."
"And then what does he do?"
"Oh, he doesn't do anything. He talks and talks and then just seizes up. We may have to send him back to the factory."
"Presumably," I said, "like Ken and Barbie, Tony is a wholly owned franchise of Mattel?"
"That's right," said Armand. "Lakshmi Mattel. But he'd rather you didn't mention that."
She comes with 10 pairs of
sensible shoes, but only one
speech...
Priceless. Steyn at his peak.
"It's DNA Osama," he sighed wearily. "You have to look carefully. He comes with his own cave and you can have endless hours of fun sprinkling him in different corners."
Great column, Pokey. Thanks for the ping.
It's at this point that I nearly wet myself.
Thanks for the pingo!
Don't tell Harley Barbie that she dresses in wanton clothing ... she may sic Harley Ken on 'em!
Would the Marine Corps do??
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