SOTI*:
…and the devastating comment underneath:
“Too bad it wasn’t torpedoed and sunk at sea with all hands instead.”
*Seen On The Internet or Somewhere On The Internet, mostly used by people (like me) who either forgot where they saw it or couldn’t be arsed to look it up.
A little while ago, two Socialist senators (Mazie Hirono and Kamala Harris) described the Knights of Columbus as an “extremist organization” which would be funny except that the Communist cows really meant it. In response, one of the Grand Poobahs of the K.C. responded with a lovely letter which described their past good works and future activities.
I was particularly struck by this passage:
“We wish to formally invite you all to join us for any social or charitable event. In fact, this February we are doing the Polar Plunge to raise funds for DC Special Olympics. You and anyone you know are more than welcome to join us either jumping in the cold water or sponsoring our team.”
…which prompted me to write a letter to Hizzoner (I’m not Catholic, I don’t know the correct appellations) Patrick O’Boyle which included this request:
Please let me know if both or either of the senators have accepted your kind offer to participate in the Polar Plunge, as I would like to get there early and attach a teeny piece of concrete to those participants’ ankles prior to their immersion.
Hey, the Catholic Church used to dunk witches, didn’t they? As all my Readers know, I’m a great one for old traditions. And tell me these two foul creatures don’t look like they qualify…
In fact, I have it on good authority that Hirono once turned someone into a newt. (Which would explain quite a lot, actually…)
Let’s just review Trump’s achievements over the past two years, shall we?
Romney’s complaint? “Wah wah wah he isn’t polite enough.”
Fuck you, Romney. We tried doing it your way, you lost, and we got eight fucking years of Obama. Now shut the fuck up, and don’t be an asshole in the Senate, you backstabbing little shit, or your worthless ass will be primaried out of office in the next election. We already have one Susan Collins in the Senate; don’t make it two, or you’ll be out before you can say “WTF just happened?”
This one’s for the BritGov.
So, about that law you have which prevents law-abiding Brits from buying or owning handguns… how’s it doing to reduce handgun ownership and usage Over There?
Not too well? You mean, only criminals are getting their hands on the things? And wait… don’t tell me… they’re shooting people and committing crimes and such?
Well, paint me pink and call me Rosie. Who could have foreseen such a thing?
One of my most treasured memories is watching the late Frank Zappa tearing into that foul scold Tipper Gore during Congressional hearings. Gore, you may remember, thought that rock music lyrics were eeeevil and caused kids to become mass murderers or Satanists or something, and Zappa just took her precious little thesis and trashed it with a wonderful mixture of scorn, opprobrium and educated analysis of her silly, nonsensical fears and creeping Puritanism.
I was taken back to those good times when reading this piece of utter bullshit:
Old favorites, outdated attitudes: Can entertainment expire?
They exist throughout society’s pop-culture canon, from movies to TV to music and beyond: pieces of work that have withstood time’s passage but that contain actions, words and depictions about race, gender and sexual orientation that we now find questionable at best.
Whether it’s blackface minstrel routines from Bing Crosby’s “Holiday Inn,” Apu’s accent in “The Simpsons,” bullying scenes in “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” the arguably rapey coercion of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” and “Sixteen Candles” or the simplistically clunky gender interactions of “Mr. Mom,” Americans have amassed a catalog of entertainment across the decades that now raises a series of contentious but never-more-relevant questions:
What, exactly, do we do with this stuff today? Do we simply discard it? Give it a free pass as the product of a less-enlightened age? Or is there some way to both acknowledge its value yet still view it with a more critical eye?
I have a better idea. Treat it all as entertainment. And in the manner of Tipper Gore and her ilk, feel free to pepper the covers with all sorts of “parental advisories” or better still, my favorite all-purpose warning that one’s childish sensibilities may be offended by the contents thereof (number to increase with the frightfulness of the content):
At least a “10-” warning will announce that I’m about to really enjoy myself.
But for the love of Jupiter’s throbbing headache, leave the classics alone for us grownups to enjoy for the fabulous bits of entertainment they are. Frankly, there’s absolutely fuck-all about the classics which should frighten anyone, whether it’s Mark Twain using the word “nigger” so freely in Huckleberry Finn (which novel, lest we forget, did more to change attitudes about race than a dozen Jesse Jacksons) or Gary Cooper taking Claudette Colbert in hand in Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife (1938):
At the end of the brilliant movie Thank You For Smoking (2006), there’s a scene where the foul Senator protagonist talks about going back into all the classic movies and digitally removing all traces of smoking, thereby “improving” them. The man’s unctuous smugness coupled with his utter conviction is so creepy it makes your skin crawl.
And that’s what these pricks are talking about now. And make no mistake, there’s absolutely no end to it. If a treasured classic like Baby, It’s Cold Outside can be interpreted to containing “rapey coercion”, then let me assure you all of one thing: nothing is safe.
I have a simple solution to this nonsense: every time some asshole indulges in some censorship dream like the above, the nearest person should horsewhip them. Literally. They get “triggered” by the suggestion of stalking in The Police’s Every Breath You Take ? Well, I get triggered by their wanting to change the whole fucking world to accommodate their tender sensibilities.
Just remember: this wonderful, sexy scene in Tom Jones is one day going to disappear forever because some fucking vegan got triggered.
I am getting so sick of people trying to tell me what I should or should not do, or what I may or may not eat, or what entertainment I may or may not enjoy, that there may well come a time when you’ll read about some snowflake getting flogged for trying to bowdlerize the lyrics of Run For Your Life.
And the flogger’s name will be mine. Which reminds me: I need to oil the old sjambok, just in case.
So now butter and lard are good for you again, and vegetable oils (except olive) are bad:
The World Health Organization has faced fierce backlash after telling people to replace butter and lard with ‘healthier’ oils in the New Year.
A leading cardiologist today said he was ‘shocked and disturbed’ by the advice, which the UN agency listed as a tip to prolong people’s lives.
Butter has been demonised for decades over its saturated fat content – but an array of evidence is beginning to prove it can be healthy.
Plus ça change, plus la même chose.
This announcement could have had some impact on my life, except that I never stopped using butter and I’ve always looked suspiciously at all cooking oils anyway.
Never mind: next week some other cardiologist will warn us that butter causes (or, more likely, “may” cause) aggravated syphilis or something.
In the meantime, any report from a large government- or international agency (CDC, WHO, etc.) should be treated with the utmost skepticism if not outright rejection. In fact, if Agency A warns that X is bad for you, a rule of thumb would be to increase the intake of X.
I don’t see that the above advice can be any worse than the bullshit we’ve been fed for the past fifty-odd years.
