Monday, November 24, 2003
Makes me wanna holler
I remember asking my mother to stop smoking when I was a little kid. I remember that I asked her to stop because of a public affairs announcement on television. So much for television having no influence on children. I was terrified that she would die the very next time she picked up a ciggy. A child's understanding of causality. She stopped smoking which was a considerable relief to me and a bolster to my sense of security.
So, when I saw the latest "Mommy, please stop smoking" spot on television last night, I thought "How cute." By the end of the spot, I was enraged. Now, don't get me wrong. I think smoking is a filthy habit. You'd hate smoking, too, if you'd grown up with a stepdaddy who smoked only filterless cancer sticks and started his particular chain at daybreak seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year.
Oops, off tanget a bit. Let me describe the spot for ya. A stereotypically all American little girl (read blonde w/blue eyes) is sweetly asking her Mom to stop smoking. If Mom doesn't stop smoking, Mom will die. And, if Mom dies, who will cook dinner? Who will make sure that everything's nice and clean? Who will take the kids to soccer practice?
And who will make sure that everyone's happy?
What the eff is that shiznit? If Mom is responsible for all that crap, no wonder she's smoking like a chimney. She's probably hitting the bottle, too. I loathe the perpetuation of traditional gender roles.
I remember asking my mother to stop smoking when I was a little kid. I remember that I asked her to stop because of a public affairs announcement on television. So much for television having no influence on children. I was terrified that she would die the very next time she picked up a ciggy. A child's understanding of causality. She stopped smoking which was a considerable relief to me and a bolster to my sense of security.
So, when I saw the latest "Mommy, please stop smoking" spot on television last night, I thought "How cute." By the end of the spot, I was enraged. Now, don't get me wrong. I think smoking is a filthy habit. You'd hate smoking, too, if you'd grown up with a stepdaddy who smoked only filterless cancer sticks and started his particular chain at daybreak seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year.
Oops, off tanget a bit. Let me describe the spot for ya. A stereotypically all American little girl (read blonde w/blue eyes) is sweetly asking her Mom to stop smoking. If Mom doesn't stop smoking, Mom will die. And, if Mom dies, who will cook dinner? Who will make sure that everything's nice and clean? Who will take the kids to soccer practice?
And who will make sure that everyone's happy?
What the eff is that shiznit? If Mom is responsible for all that crap, no wonder she's smoking like a chimney. She's probably hitting the bottle, too. I loathe the perpetuation of traditional gender roles.
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