Bubba saw a commercial for a Barbie with a dog that poops, and insisted that she wanted it. Mower pointed out she had a dog that poops, Fuzzy. She dismissed that with a quick, But I want that one!

The next commmercial made her eyes widen and her jaw go slack. I have no idea what the product was, because I was so amused by her expression and the way she exclaimed, "I want that." It was in the same tone of reverence that men use when they see a fully restored '66 Mustang, or most women see a 48-carat diamond pendant in a jeweler's window, or the way I reacted when I saw the first commercial for Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. It cleaned the grit out of fridge handles? I was drooling. It cleaned crayon off walls? I was getting up to give Bubba a crayon, just to test it out, it was that good of a commercial. I saw that reflected in Bubba's face for whatever the mass marketing brainwashing product was, that it was one step away from holiness and she would feel blessed to have it grace her home. Until her little brother broke it, and then back to the tv and senseless programming for the next awe-inspiring materialistic goodie. Sniff. I have an American girl alright. Just a chip off the old, easily manipulated by music and wide-angle camera shots, block.