A Denis Leary Style Rant on Mannequins (Delivered at the "Hipster Basho Sappho But Mostly Hipster Convention" in Manhattan)

     So i goes into this clothing store the other day and sees all these naked mannequins that don’t have no hair anywheres or eyes and ears or smiles and they look like futuristic death droids from ‘Battlestar Galactica’ and i overhears one of the worker ladies say “i thought we weren’t allowed to have naked mannequins, i thought the policy was if we see a naked mannequin to clothe that mannequin right away…” and the other worker lady, who a coupla minutes prior got on the store intercom askin’ for a coworker named ‘Rebecca’ sounding all UN debutante and all says ‘oh i don’t think so, those naked mannequins are supposed to be naked until the new fashions arrive…’ yeah, and i’m thinking jesus hipster of galleria galilee take me back to the fucking glory days of mannequins when they actually looked like people and had authentic hair from junkies who got burrs for an extra buck for smack and not these faceless globs of plastica crying out thru vulcanized paper mache’. Then i goes into this other threads shop and they’re even worse–chopped off heads mannequins, half-torso mannequins, just-legs for hot-waisted shorts mannequins–what a fuckin’ horror show! I went up to the counter and tells these girls, “hey ya, what the Hell? I feel like i’m in ‘SAW’ part 10 here!” Whatever happened to whole body mannequins? Give me that mannequin from the heartland that has neoprene skin and lets off heat! I want a mannequin with eyes that follow me across the room! Shit, give me a mannequin that will jump off the shiny metal prod stuck up its ass and walk with me to the fitting booth. How’s bouts a mannequin with a motion detecting voice chip that senses my epistemological loneliness and says ‘What do you know, sport? Buy this blouse for your girlfriend and you’ll get lucky tonight.’ And when i reply i don’t have a girlfriend, the mannequin’s database will google advice from Chicksfordummies.com and feed me some pick-up lines. And when i come back 5 hours later a failure the mannequin will trip the fire-alarm and fly the coop and we’ll escape from that damn mall in 80 mph go-carts flinging Orange Julius over all the hipsters who want to mime the whole human experience by glazing over free range of emotions and by subliminally altering our own existential awareness by putting clothes on anatomically incorrect mannequins who don’t resemble nothing from the homos sapiens but more like collegian aliens on an ultraslim diet. Just give me a mannequin i can drink a Budweiser with and lets out an occasional fart, you know what i’m sayin?