If I could go back in time, I would love to sit down at the meeting where toy executives gave the thumbs up on some of the designs of the first generation of Transformers.
"Yeah, let's just go with that. I mean, kids won't care if their toy doesn't even closely resemble the character on the show."
I'm looking at you, guy who approved the design of Ironhide.
One can only imagine the scorn heaped upon unsuspecting parents who purchased that toy by their discontented child. The thing cost $15 in 1984 ($1.6 million in today's dollars, judging the value of money by the way my mom refused to buy them back then.)
It was a travesty. A mockery of the intelligence of children. At least Megatron looked like a real gun (and apparently had a healthy libido as a robot). Luckily, my mother never bought me the Ironhide toy, but I had a friend who had him. He's a serial killer now, or probably at least poorly-adjusted.
Cartoon makers take heed - never draw anything for your animated show that cannot be made into a toy. Heed the tale of Ironhide.
My brain is a curious thing. It bounces from place to place, from the exceedingly strange to the terribly mundane. Every once in awhile, something will pop into my head that is just completely out of nowhere. Totally random.