It’s the off-season. There’s no football on, and there won’t be for a long, long time. You’re hurt. You’re angry. You’re hateful. We understand. At KSK, hating things is what we do best. Which is why we have the ongoing series This Week In F–K You. This installment: producers of expensive household devices, Dyson.

Dyson makes several products, none better known than their vacuum cleaners. I don’t own a Dyson vacuum cleaner because I don’t have $600 to spend on a vacuum cleaner. It’s not that I couldn’t cobble together $600 for a vacuum cleaner if I really wanted to, but when it comes to divvying up the budget for each month, the money left over after mortgage payment, copious alcohol and various other dumbfuck impulse buys, saving up for a vacuum cleaner never seems to make the cut. I’m practical like that.

But, oh, do I really like the idea of owning a Dyson vacuum cleaner. That’s because it’s the only vacuum that actually does what all vacuum cleaners purport to do, which is pick shit up. When you think about how bad every other vacuum is at doing that, it’s really infuriating, especially if you happen to own one of those low-rent pieces of shit. When you’re rolling one of those inferior vacuums over a clump of pet hair six times without it getting sucked up, it’s defeating on a philosophical level. Goddamn it, vacuum, it’s not like I’m asking you to pick up a brick; it’s a clump of hair. This is what you were made for. Eventually, you resign yourself to failure, hunch over, pick it up and curse your lot in life.

This is not the case for people who a Dyson, which are feats of engineering brilliance in that they actually do what they are supposed to do, every time. Again, I could get one, but once I’m done with the frustrating ordeal that is using some substandard shit vacuum, my mind doesn’t want to think about vacuuming anymore. Let alone having to sacrifice from another part of my life just for the act of future vacuuming. No, no. Not when there’s alcohol to be had.

Anyway, not faulting Dyson for being expensive, per se. A company can do that when its shit works and nobody else’s does. If your products actually perform, well, that’s my fault for not being able to afford them or find a cheaper adequate alternative.

The proceeding applies to the Dyson vacuum cleaners, which are amazing and should be mine. Dyson also sells a bladeless fan that retails for $300, which is hilarious because I don’t care what whizbang technology you’ve deployed – no fan is worth paying $300. Because other fans actually work and cost much, much less. The fact that Dyson’s is bladeless just makes it like something out of the Sharper Image, a halfway clever but pointless extravagance that no one would actually buy.

Dyson seems to have cottoned onto this reality, because recently they’ve changed their marketing strategy for the fan to include SCARE TACTICS. While the fan has been available for purchase for almost three years now, previous ads mostly touted that the fan is quieter than other fans and dispenses a more fluid stream of airflow. Again, the majority of people don’t give a fuck about these things if it means having to pony up an extra $250 to get them.

The most recent TV commercial for the Dyson fan, however, wants the customer to know how SAFE it is. The ad features an angelic little girl blowing bubbles through the fan. The bubbles are not destroyed because there are no blades to destroy them. THIS FAN LEADS THE LEAGUE IN BUBBLE INTEGRITY. Dyson then ramps up the drama by having the kid reach through the center of the fan while the arch British-sounding narrator drones on about safety. The implication is very clear: IF YOU DON’T SPRING FOR A DYSON FAN, YOUR PRECIOUS SNOWFLAKE WILL HAVE HER FINGER RIPPED CLEAN FROM HER BODY BY THE DEATH BLADES OF LESSER FANS.

I don’t even have kids and that annoys the fuck out of me, so I can only imagine how grating it is to actual parents. Now, being a lazy asshole, I’m not prepared to actually research how many fan-related mutilations there are in America each year, but I am confident in assuming it’s not that high a number. Like, no more than a couple hundred, tops. And, really, if your kid is stupid enough to lose an index finger sticking it into a fan, well, that’s one future mugger with one fewer trigger finger. That’s much better than getting guilt tripped by the makers of luxury household contraptions.

So fuck you, Dyson. And send me a vacuum.