Pinkwashing Month Begins

Last night I was reminded by my blogmate Carny Asada that today marks the beginning of BREAST CANCER AWARENESS MONTH, which should be re-titled 'Slap a pink ribbon on everything from candy to vodka and call it a Good Cause' month.

Sadly for Mr. Cancer Survivor I didn't get to the larger supermarkets to lay in the supplies we'll need for the next four weeks so he'll have to go one day and bear up against all that pinkwashing. I can't do it. I learned after a recent episode with some Lyndon Larouchers outside my local Trader Joe's market that I can't really keep my composure the way I could when I was younger and less grizzled. The Obama as Hitler poster taught me that I have a button that when pushed by a total stranger will cause me to let that stranger know how what they are doing/saying/supporting makes me feel, as loudly as will make me feel better.

So let's get out there and support all those companies that use chemicals in their products that might be carcinogens because they support fighting the cancer that they may have caused. Wait, don't the cigarette companies do this already?

And in an unrelated thought, does Benjamin Moore have a Breast Cancer Pink shade of paint yet?

Drinking in the Pink

Thank Jebus, October is over. I can safely return to the supermarket and not be bombarded with pleas to buy pink, eat pink, think pink, and drink pink. This Breast Cancer Awareness Month is a burden that gets more and more onerous as the years go by.

This year, along with pink drink coolers, pink ribbon faux carabiner key fobs, and pink cereal, I could buy a fifth of vodka in a bottle that sports a pink ribbon and claims that a portion of the proceeds will be donated to breast cancer research.

GetHammeredForTheCause

Funny, the vodka pictured at the link above isn't the one I saw while shopping in a market recently. Nice to know there's more than one way to give while getting hammered on "pink" martinis.

And let me just say that I was sorely tempted to respond to the checkout boy's rote question "would you like to make a donation to breast cancer research?" by whipping out my Foobs™ and declaring that perhaps I've given enough already. It's not his fault that he was instructed to ask this of every customer he spoke to while ringing up their groceries.
I would, however, like to spend a few minutes alone in a room with the genius MBA who thought that it was a good idea for all checkout people to ask that question. I'm just trying to buy some food, maybe a magazine, and I've gotta think about breast cancer? Again?? Would that genius MBA like to be reminded of some trauma he/she suffered every time he/she wants to buy a pint of ice cream and a copy of Vanity Fair?

Note to self: next year, stock up at the end of September, then send the spousal unit to the store for anything I might need in the dreaded month of boob corrosion awareness. It's amusing that our awareness ends with Hallowe'en. Trick or treat! Tricky tits!

Oh, and re that article Carny mentioned about the time it takes to get back to normal - word.