Bon's Mots

I was pro­cras­ti­nat­ing in set­ting up this blog un­til I saw this item:

My Fake Baby: Living Doll

(Click on the link above to view the clip and see if your jaw doesn’t drop.)

This a new British doc­u­men­tary about adult women who buy hand­crafted dolls (called “Re-Borns”) and treat them like real in­fants. Sort of like men who buy those Real Dolls (see Lars and the Real Girl) and treat them like sex toys girlfriends.

As a sin­gle woman who dodges the same ques­tions over and over again (“Why aren’t you mar­ried yet?” or “Why no kids?” My an­swer: Just lucky, I guess) my take is this:

Are you kid­ding me?

Does any­one think to per­haps steer these women to ther­apy? There must be a huge, gap­ing emo­tional hole in their lives for them to PLAYING WITH DOLLS. Yes, even though they must cost a small for­tune (I’m guess­ing half the cost of a Real Doll) they are no bet­ter than the “life­like” Thumbelina doll I had when I was seven years old.

Why is it that a sin­gle woman can­not feel com­plete un­less they shoot out a kid? I es­pe­cially like the re­ac­tions of their parters. Not only are these women child­less they will soon be­come di­vorced, too.

To my dear­est friends: if I ever be­come mad and buy one of these, and if you do care deeply about me, shoot me in the head. Please.

Note: School– and industry-related posts will be­gin next week.