Archive - Jul 8, 2011

Venting My Spleenbomb

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Memo to celebrity media, everyone talking about dead rabbits, and American anti-terrorism efforts: YOU ARE DUMB.

Better put on your raincoat. Today is an indiscriminate hatespray, in which I might, just might, be taking out a general level of irritation - with certain political realities that it would be unwise for me to comment on publicly - on minor stories that swim amongst my RSS feed like those tiny fish that dart around the coral reefs. The reefs are the big political stories of the day, the fish are minor sideshows, and the whole thing is submerged in the Sea of Shitty Analogies. Let's just call it SPASTIC TOPIC MONKEY FRIDAY and be done with it.

You know what phrase I really, really fucking hate? "Post-Baby Body". I see it way too often in headlines after a female celebrity pops out their latest squalling ball of need. Yesterday it was Mariah Carey that the Huffington Post helpfully informed me "debuted" her "post-baby body".

Why did I learn this? I still don't know. Who gives a shit? All the wrong people, apparently. And it wasn't like she strolled through some event, threw off a robe, stood there in a bikini, and had announcers point out all the features of the 2011 Post-Baby Mariah Carey like it was a fucking car show, either. She "debuted" it by getting caught by photographers coming home to New York. Which makes that choice of verb even more offensive. Stop making me sympathize with Mariah Carey, assholes!


In other entertainment news, animal rights activists have successfully convinced the Royal Shakespeare Company not to skin a dead rabbit during their New York production of As You Like It.

This is one of those stories that pisses me off on multiple levels. I mean, fuck the animal rights activists. They're not skinning live rabbits. The rabbits are already dead. They're going to get skinned. Animal rights are not served by merely changing the location where their skins are removed from their carcasses. Prep room at a restaurant or on-stage during a banquet scene, the rabbit doesn't care.

On the other hand, I can't even begin to defend the need, on an artistic level, to actually skin a real dead rabbit on stage during a Shakespeare play. I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm open to interpretations of the Bard. And I have no particular objection to the use of animal carcasses in art. But if the Royal Shakespeare Company is playing in New York Fucking City, I guarantee that whatever venue they end up in is going to have about 20 seats, total, who would be able to tell without knowing ahead of time that, hey, they're skinning an actual dead rabbit up there. Everyone else will be too far away, too busy trying to seem like they appreciate the arts, or reading the subtitles.


The United States government is warning the airlines that terrorists are considering surgically-implanted bombs. WHY WOULD THEY DO THIS?

First, nobody's actually tried it. They've just interpreted some chatter. For all I know, it might be two Al Qaeda guys shooting the shit on Facebook's new awesome chat system, because they can't get invites to Google Plus either.

But it doesn't matter if they're thinking about it, planning it, or doing it. There is no security measure that can detect an implanted bomb that I'm willing to undergo. I will take my fucking chances before the patdown becomes a TSA-mandated full body palpation to check my abdomen for any unseemly lumps that aren't the result of middle age and a love of braised pork.

We're already so far past the point where "why didn't they do more" stopped being a relevant or valid question. They could have just let this one go. Nobody needs to be worrying about this. It just keeps them from realizing that maybe, Phoenix, AZ being swallowed by a giant fucking dust storm might be a harbinger of a global warming apocalypse. In that case, the science isn't in, but we'd better watch out for spleenbombs!