One wonders what King Gillette would think of his company’s current manifestation of anti-masculinity:
A new short film released by the shaving brand dedicates itself to tackling toxic masculinity in a video that relies more on berating men for not living up to the standards of feminists than selling razors.
Knowing but a little of what King Gillette was like, and knowing how many years of toil and financial hardship he endured to get his disposable razor blade to the market, I think he’d probably burn the whole fucking thing to the ground, and I’d be handing him the cans of gasoline.
In the grand scheme of things, I’d be one of the men refusing to buy Gillette products in protest at their foolishness. But the truth of the matter is that I haven’t used a Gillette product in well over a quarter of a century, simply because I refuse to spend about $5 for a blade which lasts me less than a week*. (Good old safety singles or bargain-priced Trac II blades for me; and if I run out, I use a straight, or “cutthroat” razor without a qualm.)
As for Gillette’s parent company, Proctor & Gamble: I have suffered untold toiletry privations at their hands, the miserable Cincinnati MFCS bastards: brand “extensions” which end up replacing much-loved products, only to see said extensions later withdrawn, meaning that I have to find replacements for products I’ve used sometimes for decades. Try to find, in supermarkets or drugstores anywhere, Old Spice Original Fresh Stick deodorant with the the light blue label — not the anti-perspirant variant, which smells like cat piss. I’ve been using Old Spice Fresh sticks for well over fifty years, and now I’m forced to buy them online in packs of 24 because they are nowhere to be found otherwise. And if that supply dries up, I’ll stop using deodorant altogether, because every other male deodorant on the market nowadays smells like an attractant for homosexual prostitutes during Fleet Week.)
To use Gillette’s line on P&G: 50 years of unswerving loyalty is “the best a man can get”, you incompetent fuckers. Too bad it means nothing to you.
A pox on all of them. I can’t wait for “woke” to become “choke”, and may they burn in the fires of toiletry hell.
*En passant: I once tried one of those 5-blade things — a disposable — just for the hell of it, and it felt like someone was dragging the hair out of my face with sandpaper.