Tag Archives: lulz

Your Daily* Dose of WTF?: Do Not Fear Chaz Bono

8 Sep

I’m pretty confused about the reaction to the recent news that Chaz Bono will appear on “Dancing With the Stars” this upcoming season.  You see the same thing when people get all huffy about their children being potentially exposed to homosexuality.  It’s just baffling to me.  The only conclusion I can draw is that the people who are afraid of exposing their kids to anyone who isn’t heterosexual or cisgender are misinformed about a few things.

I think I’ve managed to identify some of the fears people are experiencing, so I’d like to address them now:

Gay and transgender people do have self-control.

I figure that one of the reasons that parents might be averse to seeing gay and transgender people on television is because they’re afraid that, before they’re able to clap their hands over their children’s eyes, someone is going to whip out a riding crop and a ball gag and initiate a primetime fuckfest.  I’m guessing that some people mistakenly think that gay and transgender people are unable to stop themselves from having amazing, kinky sex all the time.

Well, parents, I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to worry – that’s not going to happen.  Gay and transgender people are, in fact, able to curb their insatiable sexual appetites, and I can guarantee that you will not see hardcore gay sex on network television.  I cannot, however, guarantee that you won’t be treated to softcore fake lesbian sex on Cinemax after midnight.

The words “gay” and “transgender” really don’t have much to do with sex.

Donkey punch.  Strawberry milkshake.  Angry dragon.  Hot Carl.  Dirty Sanchez.  Blumpkin.  Cleveland steamer.  Alabama Hot Pocket.  These are all sex things.  Notice that this list does not include “gay” or “transgender,” as they are not sex things (notice also that this list has quite a bit to do with poop – COINCIDENCE????).

What’s wrong with sex?

I mean, even if sexuality and gender expression were sex things, what’s wrong with that?  Of course I would never argue that you should show your four-year-old porn, but you know – it’s just sex.  I mean, I think even the most conservative among us look back at ye olde Puritans, who used to like, flog themselves if they even moaned during intercourse, and we think that’s ridiculous.  I mean, we don’t inflict self-harm on ourselves (much) anymore as a punishment for enjoying sex (I mean, unless you’re into that kind of thing… but I have a feeling that if you are, I’m not really talking to you), but we still treat sex like it’s wrong and evil and corrupting.

All right, I’m going to stop evangelizing about my utopian sex-party society where people have sex and do it without shame.  But seriously, what’s wrong with sex?  And why can’t kids know about it?  And why is sexuality discouraged in children (and no, I don’t mean intercourse, but two-year-olds stick their hands down their pants, and we shake our fingers at them)?  Do you have a good reason for this, because I don’t.  But seriously, raise your kids however you want – I’m not a breeder, I don’t know what I’m talking about.

That’s not how a television works.

When I was a kid, I used to kind of hope that there were tiny people living inside video cassettes who acted out that Fraggle Rock Christmas special my mom had taped for me.  I mean, I knew that wasn’t the case, but I kind of hoped that it was.

As an adult, I still don’t understand how television works, but I’m fairly positive that there aren’t really people inside the TV, and contrary to what I learned from “Poltergeist,” one cannot be sucked into a television (and it’s especially less likely now that tube televisions are obsolete), nor can the people on your TV screen jump out and hang out with you (I’ve tested this also, but no matter how much I begged, Alexander Skarsgård remained in “True Blood” with Anna Paquin – that bitch).  So, knowing all of this, I can tell you, with a moderate degree of certainty, that no one – gay, straight, transgender, cisgender, or anything else – is going to jump out of your TV, suck you into it, or otherwise pass their sexuality or gender identity onto you or your children through your television set.  We don’t yet have the technology.

Oh, and also, sexuality and gender dysphoria are not communicable.  I looked it up.  You can’t catch gay.

Well, that’s it.  I hope this has served to allay some of your fears about Chaz Bono strutting his ass on DWTS.  If I didn’t have an irrational fear of Tom Bergeron, I might actually watch.  But I do.  So I won’t.

Fridays Are Beautiful

26 Aug

A toddler in a pageant; text reads: "Eden's favourite food is everything..."A toddler in a pageant; text reads, "... and her ambition is to rule the world."This past week, I wrote over on Orange the Brave about the TLC show Toddlers and Tiaras.  I don’t watch the show myself, but I get uncomfortable criticizing the girls on the pageant circuit because like… they’re girls.  All girls deserve respect.  And clearly, some of them are having a freaking good time and are little spitfire individuals.  Gotta love that a pageant kid’s favorite food is “everything.”

I have felt kind of under the weather all week, and have not felt too productive, so I don’t have much to share with you.  Instead, I’ll just cross-post a true story that I originally shared on Tumblr:

This morning at work, I was hit with the undeniable urge to pee.  This happens every few hours for me – you know, I have to pee.  Every few hours.  And because I had to pee, I went to the bathroom.

Let me tell you something about the ladies’ room at my office – it is a mixed fucking bag.  There are usually no less than five silverfish, creeping along in that almost viscous way they do, stark against the white tile floor.  One must hold the handle on both of the toilets in order for whatever one has just evacuated to be flushed away, and because of this, I often discover “surprises” waiting for me.

So when I tell you that I walked into the bathroom to be greeted by the foulest stench I have ever encountered, know that I have happened upon toilet bowls full of menstrual blood, vomit, and shit of every consistency in that bathroom – and none of that smelled as rancid as it smelled this morning.

Being the good citizen that I am, I hastened to flush away whatever was causing the offending stench.  In the first stall, I lifted the lid on the toilet, and saw only clear water.  In the second stall, I opened the lid, and found what I was looking for.

It was pee.  It wasn’t particularly dark, but a bit more day-glo than I am used to – the urine of someone who consumes a lot of vitamins or glow sticks.  But what sickened me even more than the smell had already done was the fact that there was no paper mellowing in the toilet.  Just pee.

Considering where I work, it’s very unlikely that a man would pee in a ladies’ room.  I have to assume, then, that it was a woman who was responsible for the piss.  A woman who deigned to wipe her snatch.  A woman who, even now, must have traces of the rankest smelling urine on the planet drying in the crotch of her cotton panties.  And ye shall know her by her odor.

Have a beautiful and odor-free weekend!

[Image Source]

In Which I Non-Apologize for Missing Yesterday’s Column (Again)

23 Aug

It has been pointed out to me that, while I said that I would be adhering to a posting schedule, I have not exactly followed through.  Now, the manners that my mother raised me on dictate that I ought to apologize (though really, I’m only sorry that I was admonished for my slacktitude), and then spend the next few days listing all of the ways in which I am inadequate in my internal monologue, and then spend a year in therapy undoing all of the damage I’ve done to my psyche.

But last night, I sat on the phone for an hour with my mother, and while a good portion of that time was spent howling and wailing about all of the ways she fucked up my childhood and, by extension, ruined THE REST OF MY FREAKIN’ LIFE, another part of it was spent discussing the contenders for the Republican presidential nomination, and whether our uteruseses (uteri?) will compel us to vote for Palin or Bachmann (in case you didn’t know, my ideologies become moot when a woman runs for office – or at least that’s the logic McCain used when he selected Palin for a running mate in 2008 – TRUFAX!).

So I decided that instead of doing my usual apology/self-flagellation rigmarole, I’d take a page out of some of my favorite politicians’ playbooks, and offer some good, old-fashioned political non-apologies.  Because if it’s good enough for the nation, it’s good enough for the three of you who read my blog!

Governor Mark Sanford – “It’s not that I slacked off and failed to prepare a column, you guys.  I was fucking my mistress HIKING!  That’s the ticket!  I was totally hiking.”

President Bill Clinton – “It depends on what the meaning of the word ‘schedule’ is.”

Congressman Anthony Weiner – “Look, maybe somebody hacked my WordPress account and instituted that posting schedule.  I mean, I can’t say with any certitude that that posting schedule is even mine.  No, no – we don’t need to get the FBI involved or anything.”

President Richard Nixon – “I am not a slacker.”

Further, I apologize for not being terribly creative about the political scandals I chose to poke fun at.  It just seemed like a bit of a stretch to try to spin Iran-Contra so it would be about my little ol’ blog.  :)

Seriously – I’m sorry about slacking.  I’m planning on skipping this week’s column, because over the weekend, I wrote not one, but two pieces on atheism, and that kind of leached all of my righteous indignation for a couple of days.

So!  I apologize to you, faithful readers, for not upholding my posting schedule, and, in true political form, I am hereby making a pledge to do better in the future (my fingers are crossed, by the way).

Spam of the Day

18 Aug

This is literally sitting in my WordPress spam folder AS WE SPEAK!  It is, hands down, the best spam I have ever gotten.

A guy walks into a bar.

Guy: “Hey, barkeeper, give me a beer.”

Barkeeper: “Tell you what, if you can make that horse out there laugh, I will give you a free beer and $500.”

So the guy walks outside and whispers to the horse. The horse laughs. The guy walks back in.

Guy: “Where’s my $500 and free beer?”

Barkeeper: “Alright, double or nothing says you can’t make that horse cry.”

The guy walks outside again. The barkeep chuckles to himself as he’s cleaning a glass and misses what the guy does, but he hears the horse crying. The guy comes back in.

Guy: “Alright, where’s my $1000 and two free beers?”

Barkeeper: “What did you say to make the horse laugh?”

Guy : “I told him I have a bigger penis than him.”

Barkeeper: “What did you do to make him cry?”

Guy: “I showed him.”

Dick jokes FTW.