Dammit Dolls: Humanity’s Last Honest Outlet

A Stitch in Time Saves Your Sanity

Now listen. I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but society is teetering on the edge, and we all know why: we no longer beat the stuffing out of inanimate objects when things go sideways.

Enter: the Dammit Doll.

This handmade, innocent-looking fabric creature is not just a ragdoll with a questionable hairdo and unresolved trauma—no, friend. It’s a licensed therapist, a rage translator, and possibly the last thing standing between you and a criminal record.

“Who needs a Dammit Doll?”

Stupid question. We all do.

You do.

I do.

Even your cousin Karen with the kombucha brewing in her laundry room needs one—especially her.

Let us begin with a short list—because our brains can no longer handle paragraphs—of reasons you, dear reader, should own a Dammit Doll:

1. Because throwing your phone is expensive.

Try explaining to AppleCare that you yeeted your iPhone across the room because the Zoom call “froze” right as your boss said, “We’re going in a different direction.”

2. Because therapy has a waitlist until 2027.

We’ve all tried to book a session, only to be told, “Sure, we can fit you in on a Tuesday in late May… of next year.” You can either wait or you can introduce your rage to a little pillow-shaped punching bag.

3. Because emotional repression is so 1950s.

Your ancestors pushed their feelings so far down, they turned into ulcers and unresolved family trauma. You, however, can scream into a doll named “Clarence” and still make it to Pilates by noon. Progress!

Proper Use of a Dammit Doll (A Non-Comprehensive Guide):

1. When frustrated, take doll in hand and whack it against the nearest soft surface.

Couch cushions recommended. Your boss’s car? Less so.

2. Yell “DAMMIT!” loudly and with conviction.

This part is non-negotiable. If you don’t yell, the rage stays in your spleen. No one wants rage-spleen.

3. Repeat until you feel better or someone threatens to call the HOA.

Either way, it’s working.

Now, let’s talk about collectibility.

Should we treat Dammit Dolls like Beanie Babies in the 90s?

Yes. Yes, we absolutely should.

Let’s create a black market where people are hawking “Limited Edition Office Printer Jam” dolls or “Traffic on the I-95” series.

Let’s get regional. You’ve got your “Southern Hospitality My A**” doll and the “Midwest Passive-Aggression” edition (comes with a tiny crocheted casserole).

And don’t even get me started on the Dammit Doll Trump Administration Collector’s Set.

Picture it:

• Karoline Leavitt with bendable logic and ever changing hair.

• Marco Rubio blank-faced and stuffed little lies.

• Stephen Miller, filled with actual gravel.

• Pete Hegseth who doesn’t come with instructions because learning should be intuitive and easily available on Signal.

• And of course, the Trump doll himself, which deflates like a beach toy and has a built-in voice chip that yells “I WON!” when squeezed.

We do not recommend ingesting or burning these dolls.

But do we understand if one ends up repeatedly whacked against a punching bag while watching cable news? Of course we do.

Health Benefits of Owning a Dammit Doll

(As certified by absolutely no one in the medical community):

• Lower cortisol: That’s the stress hormone. Beat the doll, lower the level.

• Improved circulation: Because blood boils faster when you’re annoyed.

• Better relationships: Instead of yelling at your spouse, throw the doll. Bonus points if you name it after your ex.

• Hand-eye coordination: Especially if you’ve added a bullseye to your wall.

• Prevents tweeting your feelings: A vital service.

But wait—what if it’s not enough?

What if your stress is more of a multi-doll situation?

We endorse a fleet of Dammit Dolls. One for each room.

• One for the car (named “Parking Violation”).

• One for the office (named “Karen from HR”).

• One for your purse (travel-sized—“Mini Dammit: TSA Edition”).

• One shaped like your insurance company.

The possibilities are endless and emotionally necessary.

And if you’re the crafty type, why not host a Dammit Doll-making party? Wine, fabric, a pile of grievances, and some friends who could use a release.

By the end of the night, you’ll have a collection of slightly crooked, overly stuffed therapy sidekicks—and fewer regrets than you’d have from texting your ex after two margaritas.

In conclusion, friends:

Life is confusing, frustrating, and frequently idiotic.

Modern adulthood is like being on hold with customer service… forever.

So take the rage.

Take the overwhelm.

Take the bone-deep weariness of being a person in 2025.

And stuff it into a doll.

Swing it.

Scream it.

Whack the ever-loving existential dread out of it.

You deserve it.

We all do.

Now go forth and punch something soft.

And as always…

Happy Your-Choice Day.

(Just don’t name your Dammit Doll “Monday.” It’s been through enough.)

Julie Bolejack, MBA