Hey there, folks. I’m hard at work getting this weeks’ GD posts up to snuff. In the meantime, I’m posting up an older article from my Livejournal. Since it was locked, I figure this will be relatively new to most readers, so it’ll be like….shit, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

Anyhow, this is one of three articles I did on Skymall products. This article was actually the catalyst for me to start thinking that I should get out of misanthropic LJ bitching and focus on…erm, focusing. Alas, Ross Wolinsky over at Cracked.com got the good word out to the masses, while my stuff lurked in friends-only obscurity.

I’ll wind up posting all three over the course of the month. so without further adieu:

Folks, I’ll share a secret with you. When it comes to literature, there’s one publication that excels above all others. Every time I get my hot little hands on a new issue, I go absolutely giddy with delight. To me, this is The Great Gatsby, Grapes of Wrath and Amelia Bedelia combined, doused in rocket fuel and out on a vision quest.

I’m talking about Skymall. The shopping catalogue they have in airplanes. Nestled neatly in between the “in case of emergency” instructions and vomit bag is a treasure trove of products that range from sad and unnecessary to absolutely insane.

Let’s start with the first in a long line of Skymall products that border close to animal cruelty and my personal favorite…

The Dog Dazer

It reads:

Our Dog Dazer protects you against hostile dogs wherever you might travel. It creates an uncomfortable, but not harmful high-frequency sound audible to dogs, but not to humans. A simple 1-2 second bust of quick on-off action startles the dog instinctively deterring its approach from as far as 20 feet.

Before we go any further, let’s take a look at the obvious:

You'd better pray Skymall was right about this

Fuck! Could they make a more terrifying case for owning a Dog Dazer? You could sell just about anything by putting that picture next to it. “Okay, I’ll buy the Pop Up Hot Dog Cooker! Getitawaygetitawaygetitaway!!”

In my professional opinion, if that creature comes charging at you I don’t think anything short of a gun is going to stop it. I mean honestly, I think I’d rather go toe-to-to with Zuul than that Michael Vick Obedience School graduate.

Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together... mass hysteria!

My next question would be: Who has this many terrifying encounters with vicious dogs to justify owning a Dog Dazer? According to the ad, it’s “a perfect gift for joggers, walkers, postal workers, repairmen and delivery personnel.”

As a person who walks, I feel qualified to speak on behalf of “walkers.” I’m more concerned with being robbed, assaulted or shanghaied than I am the threat of dogs. Then again, I’ve never ran into the demon beast in that ad.

So, who does own the Dog Dazer? At least 86 Amazon shoppers.

As if this ad couldn’t get more bizarre, look at the sick fucks that actually use it:

“I bought the Dazer in desperation after all other methods had failed to stop my neighbors’ two Schnauzers from barking at me and my children” writes Boo Radley. “The dogs actually stopped mid-bark and looked at me as if I had just called them Chihuahuas.”

Um, what? Is that some sort of dog humor? Does a Schnauzer feel emasculated when called a Chihuahua? I guess so.

At this point, Boo Radley’s concern for their children turns into wanton cruelty, either amusing or arousing Radley. I’m going to go with violent arousal, as it just helps paint a more twisted picture: “I Dazed them a second time and again, they stopped instantly. I then gave the now-silent and clearly befuddled mutts one final shot of ultrasonic goodness for good measure (heh heh).”

But this is an isolated incident, right? The Dog Dazer can’t really bring out the power-crazed sadist in everyone, can it?

From A. M. Collier: “I can’t tell you how empowering this thing is. I feel like John Wayne…the animal stops and runs in the house so quickly, you’d think I’d maced it. So I am covertly training my neighbor’s dog for her!”

I’m sure after your neighbor gets past the confusion of why her dog is tear-assing through the house like it’s being chased by the devil, she’ll be incredibly thankful.

So the next time you’re bombed on $5 airplane bottles of Jim Beam, a stewardess is telling you to button up your pants and your sneaking suspicion that the gentleman reaching into his jacket pocket is indeed an US Marshal, relax. Sit down, enjoy your peanut-free trail mix and dive headfirst into the gonzo acid trip of Skymall.