Before laying out some cash for a whoopee cushion, it occurred to me that I may have been duped. I was brought back to the day in 2002 when my friend Eric ripped my brand new yellow whoopee cushion in one seating. He even wrote a note on it, “I’m sorry I busted your whoopee, Eric.”
From that point, there seemed to be a rash of inferior Whoopee cushions. I couldn’t seem to keep any in stock for long. I had taken to carrying one in my purse in case an occasion might arise, but was forced to stop because of these poor quality issues.
I reasoned, maybe since the age was six and up, we were going too far up. Perhaps taxing the rubber beyond the proper weight restriction...
