In the past few days the above image of Geoffrey the Giraffe leaving the last-standing Toys R Us store has generated across-the-nation sadness from millions of people. Geoffrey comes to jeffpearlman.com to set the record straight.
OK, so first, I wanna be clear: I’m sad about Toys R Us, in that I’ve made some pretty sweet bank in the 50-plus years I’ve worked for the company. I mean, it has allowed me to travel the world, to snuggle, to hug, to pose for a photograph with Gary Coleman, to fuck bitches and do shitloads of blow.
Wait, hold on.
Let me start again. I know you’re upset. And I get it. But, seriously, get a fucking life. Please. You know I’m not a real giraffe, right? That this is just a suit, and I’m a 5-foot-3 six-pack-a-day smoker named Deacon McGill?
Do you know what this torture has been like for me? Do you know how it feels, having kids kick you, stick you with screwdrivers, vomit on your feet and spit in your eyeballs? Do you know how many parents have whispered into my ears, “I hate you and I want you dead”? Jesus Christ, THEY’RE NOT EVEN EARS!!! MY EARS ARE IN MY ARMPITS! HOW FUCKED IS THAT?!?!?!?
My first suicide attempt came in 1971. I swallowed 723 Matchbox tires, figured that’d end the misery. Nope. A year later, I ran in front of an oncoming Tonka train. Also—no go. I’ve wanted this to end and end and end. I’ve threatened to kill children. Nope. I’ve threatened to have sex with Marge, the 73-year-old shedding clerk in our Tulsa store. No. I once even pulled my giraffe head off in the middle of the store. Thought that was a guarantee masterpiece. How was I to know there was a second giraffe head under the first giraffe head?
Hence, when I heard the magic words—”We’re closing!”—I let out a shout for joy.
That picture above? The one making you cry?
I’m smiling, bitches.
Trust me.
I’m smiling,
