Most people don’t wouldn’t think “punk rock” when looking for a corporate mascot, as the two concepts seem diametrically opposed to one another. But most people haven’t met Floyd D. Duck, the mohawked, septum-pierced spokesduck for Bubble Yum bubble gum. We caught up with Floyd at his home in a suburban Los Angeles park.
The Hard Times: Floyd, it’s an honor to meet you. I remember seeing your commercials when I watched “Power Rangers” in the ‘90s. How did you get your start?
Floyd D. Duck: Fuck, man, that was ages ago. It was your classic rags-to-riches story. I was picking at some shitty old bread in this very park when I stumbled across a wad of old gum. It got caught on my bill and I was squawking and shit, and it blew a bubble. All the ruckus caught the attention of some Bubble Yum ad execs who took a chance on a crusty-ass duck like me, and I signed the contract that afternoon.
Had you done any acting before?
Fuck no! I knocked around here and there outside the studios for a while, passing out demo tapes hoping to make it on a soundtrack, but bumming cigs from the Teamsters and shit was about as close as I got.
Did you ever consider it “selling out” to have your face all over packs of bubble gum?
When I was younger, yeah, I had ideals and shit. Like in that first commercial, I wanted to chug from a whiskey bottle and chuck it at those square-ass ducks to scare them away. I was fuckin’ indignant about it, squawking about how that was the “real me” and shit. But the director pulled me aside and explained it was some FCC thing that they couldn’t show booze during kids shows, and I needed the cash to buy back my fucking guitar, so I gave in. But they let me keep the studded collar on as a compromise. So there’s a give and take I guess.
Have you enjoyed your success over the years?
Oh fuck, dude, ab-so-lute-ly! I mean everyone chews bubble gum at one point in their lives, right? So I get recognized all the time and I haven’t paid for a fucking drink since 1992. And the chicks, man, it’s un-fucking-real what they’ll do to sleep with someone famous, even a piece of shit duck like me.
Any stories you want to share?
Oh man, kids gonna be reading this shit? Ha, I don’t give a fuck. Anyway, I was in a band with the Aflac duck in the early 2000s when everyone who was mildly famous had a gig like that. Never got so much cloaca in my life. I’m a gentleman, so let’s leave it at that.
Are you still friends with any of your fellow spokespeople?
Oh fuck yeah, man, I hang with Yipes, the Fruit Stripe Zebra, all the time. We get drunk off our ass and play softball with the Big League Chew dude. We all used to be part of a huge crew that ran these streets, getting wild with heroin and splitting hookers. Those Quizno’s Spongemonkeys would smuggle it in from Tijuana. But once we got a bad batch and shit hit the fan. I was there when the Pets.com dog OD’d. That was a real fucking eye-opener. Been off horse ever since. Fucking tragic shit.
You’re still on packages of Bubble Yum to this day, do you think you’ll ever retire?
No fucking way! How many bubble gum mascots do you know who have been kicking for three decades? My ugly mug is on shelves in fancy grocery stores and shitty bodegas, and I get enough residuals to keep a steady stream of lady ducks lining up outside my nest. Shit man, they’re gonna have to wheel me out of this gig duck feet first.