Rhode Island is currently facing a Spud-pocalypse of sorts, as state lawmakers debate a proposal to peel the iconic Mr. Potato Head off the state’s charity license plates. The controversy, which has quickly become a hot topic in Rhode Island local news weird columns, stems from toy giant Hasbro moving to Boston and leaving its longtime Pawtucket headquarters behind. With the company set to depart by late 2026, some officials argue that keeping the starch-based mascot on official state plates is no longer appealing, sparking a debate about local pride, corporate abandonment, and the fate of a beloved plastic tuber.
A Matter of State "Self-Respect"
The proposal to retire the Rhode Island Mr. Potato Head plates was introduced in mid-January 2026 by State Representative Brian Newberry. His reasoning is straightforward: if Hasbro doesn't want to stay in Rhode Island, why should the state offer free advertising for its most famous product? Newberry has publicly called the move a "matter of self-respect," arguing that the Hasbro Rhode Island exit signifies an abandonment that shouldn't be rewarded with state-sanctioned branding.
"There is no reason we should be advertising their products on our license plates," Newberry stated in an email regarding the legislation. The bill would effectively repeal the 2002 law that established the specialty plate, which was originally created to celebrate the toy's 50th anniversary and its deep roots in the Ocean State. For over two decades, the spud has been a smiling ambassador for Rhode Island roads, but the relationship has clearly turned sour.
The Hasbro Migration to Boston
The catalyst for this license plate rebellion is the confirmed news of Hasbro moving to Boston. In September 2025, the toy manufacturer announced plans to relocate its headquarters and approximately 700 jobs from Pawtucket to the Seaport District in Boston by the end of 2026. The move marks the end of an era for Pawtucket, where Hasbro has been a corporate cornerstone for over 100 years.
While the company frames the move as a strategic step for growth and innovation, Rhode Islanders view it as a painful breakup. The departure is expected to cause significant economic shifts in the Blackstone Valley area, fueling the sentiment that the Mr. Potato Head RI connection has been severed. As the company packs up its Play-Doh and Transformers, the lingering presence of the potato on thousands of bumpers has become a sore point for those feeling the sting of the economic loss.
Collateral Damage: The Food Bank Funding
However, not everyone is ready to mash the potato plate into oblivion. The funny license plates serve a serious purpose: funding the Rhode Island Community Food Bank. Currently, the plate costs motorists $40, with $20 of that fee going directly to the charity. Over the years, the smiling spud has helped raise nearly $60,000 for food assistance programs across the state.
Opponents of the ban argue that axing the plate out of spite would be cutting off a nose to spite a face—or in this case, removing a plastic ear to spite a potato. "My concern is, any cuts into the food programs is gonna affect some people," said local resident Lew Pryeor in an interview with local news outlets. The debate highlights a classic conflict between political principles and practical philanthropy, leaving residents divided on whether the potato should stay or go.
Social Media "Potato Uprising"
As with any story involving weird news 2026, the internet has had a field day. Social media platforms are buzzing with the "potato uprising," where users are posting tributes to their spud-adorned bumpers and cracking endless puns about the situation. Some residents have suggested replacing the potato with more "Rhode Island" symbols, like a pothole or a cup of coffee milk, while others are rushing to order the plates before they potentially become collector's items.
Whether the Rhode Island Mr. Potato Head plates survive the legislative session remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: the breakup between the Ocean State and its most famous toy company is getting messy, proving that breaking up is hard to do—especially when there are potatoes involved.
