They’re not. Plenty of people who play with them don’t care if the company and its worshippers get bent outta shape if they’re called Legos. When my Dad stepped on my Tinkertoy, or my Erector, or perhaps my Lincoln Log, he’d just curse my name and admonish me to pick all this undifferentiated shit up off the floor.
“What about the Lego?”
“Not just that one! Pick all of 'em up or I’ll knock you into the middle of next week!”
“But Dad, ‘Lego’ refers to both the singular and plural OWWW!!!”
“Smartass. No Knox Block for you for dessert.”
“They’re Knox Blox OWWW!!!”
