Pax Barbie

pax barbie header 2


Cher and Tundra are still working the Barbies after all these years.

Tundra: “Cher, let’s hop into the Jeep and go to the beach!”

Cher: “That otta be easy now that the beach is way much closer than it used to be.”

Polar Bear culture takes Barbies seriously. After floods drowned mankind and destroyed most human artifacts, the plastic, hollow Barbies survived for centuries because they floated to the surface in islands of plastic rubble like New York and London. Plastic takes several generations to bio-degrade even under the best weather conditions, and you could hardly call the non-stop freezing rain of the last few centuries “ideal.”

The irony of plastic Barbie’s Darwinian survival doesn’t escape their furry post-apocalyptic owners.

Cher is usually the instigator in their Barbocentric Consumer dramas, so she dramatically turns to Tundra in mock horror.

Cher: “Oh no! The Jeep is being fire-bombed by GI Joes! Quick, Silvie, swerve!”

Tundra takes on the same pretend-fearful tone.

Tundra: “I can’t swerve, Cher! Eco-terrorists have cut the brake cables and the steering controls!”

And then, staring at each other ecstatically, they yell:

Both bears: “Oh my God! They’re suffocating on the badly-designed air bags!”

It’s the same ending every time – the Barbies always end up suffocating in their own battery-powered toys.

The two furry she-bears collapse into a ball of laughter and Arctic friskiness. Once again, their Barbies have died of acute Consumerism. This ending always feels good – it’s like homeopathic medicine.

Then Cher flares her nostrils and thinks aloud.

Cher: “I can smell pot downstairs. Let’s run down and try to freak out Rav and Bronco.”

india bear

Meanwhile, downstairs in the living room, Bronco fondles his girlfriend while they smoke a massive cone joint together.

Rav: “Bronco! What are you doing! That’s my scrotum!”

Bronco: “Scrotum? But it said you were my GIRL-friend in the prequel.”

Rav: “Well then, the prequel got it half right.”

Rav is a visiting exchange bear from Madras, India. Because of the very different polar bear customs in his part of India, many of the residents of Veggie Hamlet think he’s a girl. With polar bears, the difference is, at most, pretty subtle. Sex between them is usually a blur of ecstatic muscular sensations and white fur – so gender roles are often put aside in the name of efficiency.

Bronco: “Rav, can we still fondle even though we’re both he-bears?”

Bronco’s voice trembles a bit as he looks at Rav’s big, meaty gym arms.

Just then, Tundra and her friend Cher come tearing down the stairs, waving blond plastic hair.

Tundra: “Our barbies say they want to go for a drive in the beach bus again! But the airbags aren’t up to EU standards. What should we do, Bronc?”

Bronco and Rav quietly chuckle. Will these girl-bears ever learn the difference between play and reality?

Rav coughs up a bit of pot smoke as he looks up at Tundra’s  face.

Rav: “Dude, they’re just barbies. Do their hair, dress them in green plastic boots and a princess dress, and take them to a ball. That’s all they really need.

Leave the beach bus with G.I. Joe.”



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