Even as a kid, Uncle Joey annoyed the fuck out of me. The silly voices, the constant hockey shirt wearing, the “cut it out” thing and, worst of all, Woody the Woodchuck. Nothing makes a 11-year-old pray for the sweet release of death quite like sitting through thirty minutes of wood puns. All I wanted was to burn that puppet to the ground and pop a squat over it’s smoldering remains. So, when I see a teapot called the “Wood You Like a Cup of Tea?” Teapot, I definitely don’t want a fucking cup of tea. I do, however, want to fantasize about braiding Uncle Jesse’s mullet. Have mercy!