In Defense of Furby

furbyhead

I visited the Furby website today. And I may have lost my bladder control, but I also cackled like a tyrant watching a house fire. It’s an odd sense of joy. Pure, tragic joy.

Here’s the link. I suggest a bedpan and a wicked sense of humor.

After the blue Furby peers into your conscious with unseeing/all-seeing eyes, you have a few choices. I have explored them for you, and can safely say my favorite is the “Discover” icon. You know, “Discover” being synonymous with “Descend.” And fear. And of course, laughter.

Heh... house fires...

Heh… house fires…

Click around at your leisure. Some are just pictures translating Furbish to a language of the living. For instance, “Tay, oo-nye doo-loo” apparently means “Let’s engage in monstrous cocaine debauchery!” and “Dah May May” means “Already there, brah!”  We also get speech bubbles of Furbish ramblings read by a soulless female robot, for some reason.

And the Furby eye gifs. They… never stop staring…

I highly suggest any of the video icons (especially this one), but the little pictures of food stuffs… they’re the best. I thought eating a hamburger only made me scream “YEEEEEEE-HAAWWWWWWW.” I was wrong.

"No, Furby!! No No YEEEEEEE-HAAWWWWWWW!!! NOOoooo" *blurg*

“No, Furby!! No No YEEEEEEE-HAAWWWWWWW!!! NOOoooo” *blurg*

But this was not the only funny Furby website. If you thought I’d stop there, you forget I love visiting fan sites. Oh yes, they exist and they are awesome. Furbaholic.homestead.com’s “Nita” writes, completely unironically, “So relax, sit back, and meet my furbys…” I find it hard to relax, but okay…

Gah, don’t do it! The drawings, the drawings!

For a triad of memorable sites, I also found the Furby FAQ page. Using my newly-found knowledge of Furbys, I know the answers to such pressing questions as…

Furby is sneezing and won’t stop, what is wrong and what do I do?

Is there is a secret button on his tail that will make him flip out?

and the always prominent…

What does “Kitty Kitty” mean?

It's a loose translation, but it's something like, "Get your filthy hands off me, flesh-slave!"

It’s a loose translation, but it’s something like, “Get your filthy hands off me, flesh-slave!”

Despite all the evidence toward some sort of demon possession, I fear too many people respond with the natural, “Kill them. Kill them all.” Yes, they reside in the depths of the uncanny valley. And yes, the NSA totally banned them. And sure, they are fun to hack and destroy and burn. Yessss… burnnnn…

Where was I going with this?

Right. Gotta defend. Except, this week, I really can’t. You can’t defend the relative “cuteness” of an object. I could tell you that some people like them, but we already know that lunatics exist. They are relatively popular/infamous, and they make a lot of money I suppose. And not only from children and lovesick adults, but also from people who destroy them. “Yeah, I’ll show my hatred by giving your corporation money! Arrgelblargh!”

Wait. That list revealed something. These toys are made FOR CHILDREN.

Look, every generation has creepy toys. My grandfather had clockwork piggy banks, my mother had a monkey doll with rubber fingers, my aunt had a barbie with an adjustable breast size, and I had (have) Pokémon figurines. The only reason we should be angry is that companies are recycling their creepy rubish instead of inventing new fads. In the end, Furbys are either hilarious or creepy or camp, but they are never more than MERE CHILDREN’S TOYS. Make fun of them if you will, but be careful you don’t descend into real hatred. Surely you have better things to do.

Plus, if we get too intwined in our hubris, they will lead an army of technology to slay us all. They’ll start by winning over Siri.

"Tay, oo-nye doo-loo..."

“Tay, oo-nye doo-loo…”

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One thought on “In Defense of Furby

  1. Pingback: In Defense of Columbus Day | Pop Culture Courtroom

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