I can picture it now: Every morning, I'll give my son his breakfast, a glass of apple juice and one of those little colorful vitamins with Barney Rubble or Bamm-Bamm on it. He'll pick up his Flintstones Chewable and say to me "Hey, Dad, why are these called Flintstones vitamins? What's a flintstone? Are these actually just little rocks? Is that why they're called 'stones?' Essentially, Dad, I'm asking just what the hell is up with these things?" And that's when I'll realize that to explain a "flintstone" means to describe a fifty-year-old cartoon that hasn't been relevant for at least two decades now.
The only reason I plan on giving him Flintstones vitamins is because they're the gold standard of kid's vitamins. They've been used exclusively since Nixon was in office, and nobody has bothered to change the characters to something more pertinent. So, I'll have to collect my thoughts and explain to my son that Flintstones are actually a family of cave people who lived like modern people only they used dinosaurs as household items. Like, sometimes a baby woolly mammoth was their vacuum, get it? All of the wildlife in the world lived in a depressed state of workforce purgatory. And there was a catchy theme song, a laugh track for some reason, and ... you know what? It's easier to just say they're stones. Eat your goddamn stone, kid.
Warner Bros. Television Distribution