The Pillsbury Dough...EUNUCH!

I saw on the news the other day that the Pillsbury Doughboy had been kidnapped. I have just one thing to say to the kidnappers: please, please, DON’T return him. I’m sooooo sick of that little guy I could just kick him in the doughnuts!

Now, I have to admit, when he first came waltzing across my television screen I thought he was cute, would make a heck of a best friend. But after 40 plus years of him prancing across my television screen like some little dough nymph high on cornstarch, I have had enough! He’s just not cute anymore. In fact, he’s rather annoying (just once I’d like for that little squeaky-voiced nit-wit to prance across my kitchen counter top--I have a spatula with his name on it just waiting for him, and oh the things I’d do to him)!

First off, how old does one have to be before one is not considered a boy? Did you know that that little dough-head turns 55 this year? Fifty-five, the double nickel, yet he’s still a boy? Why, he’s closer to retirement, collecting Social Security, and using Medicare than he is to producing any little dough juniors that’s for sure.

And speaking of retirement, from the look of his wardrobe, when the doughboy retires he’s going to need some financial help from Uncle Sam. I mean fifty-five years on T.V. as Pillsbury’s spokesman and all he can afford is that little chef’s hat and a scarf? What’s up with that?

Also, how do we know he’s a boy? Have you ever looked closely at what’s below (or not below) that scarf and hat? It seems to me dough eunuch would be a more appropriate title for him.

Besides, I’ve never seen him driving with a dough woman, in a dough station wagon, full of a bunch of little dough kids. So, if in fact he is a doughboy, but he never gets together with the dough women, where will Pillsbury get their next generation of dough spokespersons? It’s worrying the heck out of me.

On the other hand, it’s a scary scenario to think that there’s a dough girl out there, and she and the doughboy hook up, get married—couldn’t have them living in sin you know--and have a bunch of little dough kids. Perish the thought! But I divert.

Here’s one last point to ponder concerning whether this little “dough person” is a boy or a girl. Weren’t we told all those many years ago by the good folks in T.V. land that Lassie was a girl? Turns out all the while the dog was really a male. Shoot, after learning that, along with learning there’s no Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, or Superman, I’ve been emotionally scarred for life! I’m still in therapy.

Well, I for one think the people at Pillsbury owe us some explanations, but after 55 years of silence on these matters I doubt we’ll ever get them. Do I smell a conspiracy by the folks there? Nah, it’s just the doughboy’s buns baking in my oven.