No Open Blockers

On Monday nights, I take care of my daughter after work so my wife can go to the gym and just have some general non-mommy time. Since the weather is getting nice lately, we usually walk around the neighborhood and go to the park down the street. Tonight it’s a bit cold and windy, but since I couldn’t bring myself to suffer another night of Elmo and trying to keep her from eating crayons, I decided we’d head to Game Stop and Barnes & Noble.

Yes, I know that sounds lame, but she likes running around taking the games/books off the shelves and unlike in the house, I don’t have to bother cleaning up after her.

I drove approximately 6 seconds from the house when Leanne starts asking for her Elmo CD. Shit, it’s in my wife’s car. I entertained her as best I could until we got to B&N and decided it was worth the trip to the music section to have some sort of backup CD in my car.

After wading through a sea of complete and utter shit (the inventor of Yo Gabba Gabba should be pushed off a cliff) I found a Disney CD of nursery rhymes. With the onset of Hannah Montana and the Jonas Brothers plagues, buying Disney these days is a bit of a risky venture. However, the large hackergotchis of Mickey and Minnie on the front of the CD offered a sense of reassurance.

After twenty minutes of chasing my daughter around B&N to try to wrangle her into the car, we found ourselves ready to listen to our newly bought Mickey CD. But instead of Mickey, it’s some dude singing. At least he wasn’t the creepy child molester type singer you normally find on these CDs, but the fact still remained that 5 songs into it, he was still singing. Not a single peep from Mickey or Minnie. I had at least hoped for an intro and maybe a few tracks here and there of him spouting off mind-numbing messages to children. Nope, not a single word from the iconic mouse.

I am so disappointed. Mickey, the symbol of the happiest place on earth, has whored himself out to sell 7 dollar CDs to toddlers.