this were a Halloween costume contest, which mask would
you say is scarier? The dismal "resemblance"
of a major media star shoddily thrown together, or the mucus-green
deathmask of a demonic creature? For me, three words will
provide a clear answer to that: Erin Go Bragh.
am convinced that the executives at Ben Cooper made a leprechaun
mask mold years before Miyamoto's masterpiece and were stuck
with warehouses full of them, unable to sell the foolish
quasi-Lucky Charms outfits to slick kids. Always remaining
hopeful (those greedy jerks), when Link and Zelda came along
and filled the TVs of households everywhere in the country,
the execs followed the rainbow to Video Game Marketing
Hell and came up with an evil plan to sell their rejected
leprechaun masks, passing them off as Link instead. From
the chubby Irish cheeks to the stereotypically fiery red
hair, this rendition of the famous video game hero might
have been able to fly if Hyrule was inside of Ireland and
the Dungeons in the games were meant to be the scattered
dark, dank pubs in Dublin. Because Link is a Hyrulian, and
certainly not a Dubliner, and Princess Zelda is far from
being a Molly Bloom herself, so we are ultimately left with
a dreadful, completely indistinguishable mask. How goes
the rest of the costume?
trash bag with somewhat pretty, somewhat confusing artwork,
and a slit on the back to fit over you. As if Ben Cooper
could read minds, or apparently was a company not run by
people desperately requiring immediate cataract surgeries,
they thought it would be necessary to clue people in as
to your costume's true identity and help as best they could
prevent a situation where all night you're called a leprechaun
by dozens of old ladies. They solved that problem by filling
the entire front part of the "costume" with a
stone background and applying a Legend of Zelda logo
on top. The character Link, despite his right foot appearing
to be stuck in the hardening cement, looks... well, looks
like an overweight hair-bleached munchkin who stayed much
too long in the tanning booth.
the good things about this mask and Link costume--what are
they? Could there be anywhere a list of, say, five or so
points of praise that could balance out some of the bad?
is this! The luck of the Irish, is it? Why! Ben Cooper has
listed five features on the back of the box that they thought
were good enough reasons for a concerned parent to purchase
this otherwise ridiculous costume.
FLAME RETARDANT: Except after washing, Ben Cooper
remarks. If you wash the costume, then you run the risk
of becoming a retard wearing a flaming garbage bag.
NON-TOXIC: Kids, feel free to eat the plastic so
your parents can buy you another costume, but please don't
wash the plastic first. In your throat and stomach it'll
feel like eating fire.
COLOR BRITE: It's like Lite Brite, but not.
VISION: Because Ben Cooper wants all children to
see their tormenters and bullies clearly, so they know just
who to seek out revenge upon thirty years down the road.
MASK FASTENERS: Otherwise known as a "rubber
band." Parents might have been on the fence even after
the attractive vision point of point #4 was made, but #5--look
out--the addition of the rubber band--now it's sure bet.
A real winner. A slam dunk.
Much to my dismay, the costume is extremely small, and unfit
for my aging figure. If somehow I was able to fit this thing
round my body and stomach, though, if any man tried this
thing on, I know it'd be the most frightening display on
God's green earth. I don't wish to bring down the fires
of Armageddon and call forth the four horsemen of the apocalypse
at this particular time, so I'll spare you and the rest
of the world's civilizations all of the bulging, hairy particulars.
On the bright side, I chased my boston terrier through three
rooms and was eventually able to yank him from his hiding
place from underneath the bed to model the full costume.
So we come now to the end of this feature and I find myself
greatly disappointed with myself. After the shock of the
strange O'Link design, and the green Hefty bag body
costume, I would hate for this distinctively scary piece
to end without one more big scare. Call it a great clash
of the cymbals, a hiding finale to the article's build-up,
a sudden twist to leave the reader horrified and remembering
his stricken fear days later. It needs a lasting shrill
scream to echo into the night air.