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The Rubber Ducky Dilemma
Keep Ernie happy: explain the Defective Ducky Dilemma and win a free
subscription
by Doug Collins
Are we modern people like these lame ducks,
toppling over at the slightest wave of
trouble or criticism, unable to stick
up for ourselves?
A rubber ducky is supposed to float on top of the water like a real
duck, right?
Then how come four out of four recently manufactured rubber duckies
were "dead in the water," toppling on their sides either immediately
or
with a slight nudge. The only rubber ducky I obtained that
worked like a rubber ducky should was an old one I found at a
yard sale. It always comes up head-first no matter how big the
waves are (it's the one swimming proudly upright in the photo).
The large one I bought at Fred Meyer a couple years ago was cute, but
it didn't even pretend to swim. One manufactured by First Years was
easily knocked over, as was a tiny one I bought in a local toy store.
The worst-designed ducky I found was from the Battat company (one of
the Battat "Bath Buddies" line). The utter deadness of this
ducky--because of its topheavy construction--led me to call the Battat
company and ask them, "Why don't you just put the ducky in a sink of
water and test it before you sell it?" The customer service agent
responded by saying, "I'm very sorry the duck doesn't float right for
you. Can we send you a new one?" I asked, "Why would my kid want
another dead ducky? He already thinks Santa is a jerk for sending him
this one." She didn't have a good answer, so I passed on her offer.
Maybe I'm just being petty, but this Defective Ducky Dilemma bothers
me. Our modern culture is awash in cute new rubber duckies, but few or
none of them work right, and the manufacturers and retailers don't
really even seem to care. What does this say about us? How did we get
here? Are we modern people like these lame ducks, toppling over at the
slightest wave of trouble or criticism, unable to stick up for
ourselves? Is this the ultimate victory of style over substance?
As a protest of defective ducks, I thought about refusing to take a
bath until the toy companies came up with products that work, but my
friends at the Free Press convinced me that this would be overkill (or
oversmell), and they came up with the following literary solution to
my angst.
So here's the ducky deal. Whoever writes or emails us the best answer
to the question "Why are we surrounded by defective duckies, and what
can we do about it?" will win a free year's subscription (or
subscription extension) to the Free Press and the everlasting
gratitude of Sesame Street's Ernie. Answers must be short, say less
than 200 words (after all, they're just tiny rubber duckies!), they
may be edited, and we will print the best answer or answers along with
your names in an upcoming issue of the Free Press. (Note: we do not
enter you on any junkmail lists.) Send your answers and address (in
case you win) to:
- WAfreepress@gmail.com (be sure to write "Rubber Ducky Sweepstakes"
in the subject heading), or...
- "Rubber Ducky Sweepstakes", c/o WA Free Press, PMB#178, 1463 E.
Republican St, Seattle 98112.
If you don't win the free subscription, please don't take it hard.
Just take a nice warm bath to soothe yourself--minus the duck.
Special note to Homeland Security: There is a secret fanatical message
hidden in the above article. Please hire six additional decoders
full-time for the next two years in order to unlock the "Rubber Ducky"
conspiracy.
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