Tits, TV, & Agony

          I went for a walk this morning. While on this walk I had an epiphany and decided ‘when I get home I’m going to write about that.’ It’s rare for me to have these kind of revelations but when I receive them I want to get ‘em down on paper. I want to let my mind and computer work in harmony to produce stimulating views and ideas on the intricacies of life in this temporary realm. But I forgot that I’m an idiot. Ten minutes later, while still on my walk I tried to recall my earlier vision. I couldn’t remember it because the full processing power of my brains had been squandered on a Beatles based product I had thought up, Sgt. Poopers Lonely Hearts Chub Pants plus-sized widow diapers. My genius destroyed by my stupidity. Typical. But later I was thinking about big boobs.

            I want to see tits on TV. Naked ones. That makes me a pervert. Except at least 50% of the population secretly agrees with me, so maybe I’m not such a sex creep after all. But we can’t see boobs on TV. Are breasts that bad? Are double Ds that disgusting? Are ta-tas that tasteless? Really, are jugs that immoral? 50% of people have them. Hooters are much more common than hunky undying unrepentant murderous junkies (vampires) but you can see one on TV and not the other. Shouldn’t feminists be puffing their chests about the shame society shoots all over their breasts? It is an insult to women suggesting that their bodies are inappropriate; unsuitable for view the popular entertainment. On top of that, the lack of coverage of uncovered bosoms is also insulting to men in that there exists some underlying belief that men couldn’t handle seeing raw teat. If a set of boobs are shone on television after 10pm that men will revert to ape like levels of nonchalance and whip their dumb sticky dicks out just start tugging off right there in Nana’s rumpus room. Maybe during a foreign film with a few nipple glimpses father and son will take turns buttfucking the old Magnavox TV rights there in the den underneath the Olan Mills family portrait while Mom & Sis hide and cry underneath Great-Grandmother’s hand sewn quilt. Both feminists and chauvinist pigs alike should be marching in the streets with signs emblazoned with slogans like ‘free the TV chi-chis’ & ‘where’s the boobs?’ & ‘titties are people too.’

            The flip side of the argument would be that if they show bazooms then they’re probably going to have to show cocks too. Well, my retort would have to be…fine. We’re all adult here. Wow man junk, whoopadee-doo! I see at least one penis every day (my own thank you very much). I don’t want to see shlongs but I’m not going to spew hot chunky barf all over my wife’s jugs and blouse because I saw scary wang. If you don’t like it, you should change the channel and watch NCIS or other wholesome primetime shows where they examine strangled rape corpses. Why the fuck is it okay to see truly sickening things like the dead bodies of real life murder victims and hot dog eating contests and Khloe Kardashian, but it’s illegal to see a woman’s nipple? WHY? It is insane. We can watch “reality” shows which (as you should be able to infer from my use of quotation marks) are fake as fuck, starring limelight grubbing useless unlikable fame jackals but showing a mom breastfeeding in a drama is breaking the law. These reality stars are the worst people in society, and they hog most of the American television set. They are already influencing society for the worse (much much worse) yet these self-proclaimed family-watchdog groups have no problem with that shit but a married couple making love and you see a few seconds of nipples, well then they’re up in arms. They start a letter writing campaign and boycotting Smuckers & Pepperidge Farms & Stouffers stovetop stuffing & I don’t know…Fanta. I personally invite all watchdog groups to toss my salad, unless of course your watchdog group involves several people gathering and watching a dog; in that case please, take my blessing and don’t lick the inside of my asshole.

            I saw the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen the other day on TV. It was starving African babies on the 6 o’clock news. They weren't healthy like the tit-chomping tot above. They were small and skinny like the skeletons of newborns even though they were like three and four years old. They had dazed looks in their eyes. Some looked like corpses, but then they would move slightly. Crying & starving & there is nothing you can do to help them. They are probably already dead by the time you see the video footage. You could send aid money, but some of that gets funneled off and the rest gets through and buys sacks of grain or medicine but then that gets hijacked by some tribal warlord or a warlord who runs a gang of child soldiers who machete kill innocents and they use rape as a weapon of war on the AIDS-iest continent on earth. So they were showing dying children in pain that cannot be saved. They were showing pure SUFFERING. That’s it! The sheer AGONY of helpless children rotting to their early death brought to you by Sunchips & a medication for a disease some pharmaceutical company just invented. Nothing is worse than that. I can see undernourished hallucinating stunted unloved desert children in their death throes but not a couple of juicy sweater puppies. The 2^nd worst thing I saw was some internet porn that I didn’t know what I was getting into until it was too late. It was so horrific it is tattooed on my brains. I won’t tell you what it is because I don’t want to infect you with the evil I was exposed too. I’m pretty sure it was legal, but man it shouldn’t be.

            The answer? Show it all. Have warnings beforehand and let it go. Let the free market sort it out just like those fuck ass unrestricted capitalist raiders want. After all, we’ve all sucked on tits.

Get Serious About Politics!

Leggies and gentlepears, step right up to see the dysenterious curds of the equatorial gridlock pajama zone. Canadian television hath provided us with shapely hams and illiterate green bees and thrashed potatoes upon a bed of an incontinent AIDS rapist named Chintzy Pelter. For one thin dime or two lard-assed nickels you will see lay-z-boys jettisoned from falling skyscrapers, all matching kids overalls 50% off this weekend on the top floor of Sky Ticklers in Concord on Willow Pass Rd open weekdays 'til 8(a.m.) weekends 'til 5(b.m.), DVD players for four bucks, ADD Mayors commandeer trucks, PCP lawyers biscuiting crux, OPP sayers rescinding fucks, mushpot gooses cursing ducks, cars banana-ed out by the rapping simians of Btv’s Chimp my Ride, slinky eye glasses, fart rashed asses, blast viceroys with molasses, and as always try the dump dip.

Ah yes, ghastly business, that.

Hey now everybody how ya doin'? Alright alright settle down. Me? I'm doing pretty good except I can't find a job so I can make money so I can buy a car so I can drive to places that are beyond walking distance so I can expand my range of putrid and offensive me-ness etc etc But other than no job no wheels no woman no cry no more tears Johnson & Johnson shampoo, I'm doing swell. No sarcasm there for reals. Does leave-in conditioner still exist? or was that an 80s/90s commercial scam like flavor crystals, fahrvergnügen, & low tar? I love products/stores with a feminine article before them. Mrs. Butterworth, Mrs. Dash, Lady Foot Locker, Lady Speed Stick, and Mrs. Just-For-Men Lady Beard Dye. Does anyone else recognize Ms. Pac-Man as a feminist other than myself? Her name is Ms. Pac-Man and not Mrs. or Miss. She don't take no chauvinist pig guff and she strongly rejects the shackles of male dictated prefixes in which the bearer not only identifies her marital status but justifies the inequality of western marriage practices. But when the rubber meets the road Ms. Pac-Man really knows how to gussy herself up. With that red bow and high heels she is one sexy woman. The only drawback being that Ms. Pac-Man's nudism tends to get her attention for all the wrong reasons, forcing men to look at her as a sex object thereby trivializing her constant struggle with the phantoms of male dominance that haunt the endless mazes of the arcade machine (an obvious allegory of a working woman's quest for equality and respect in today's sexist world). Also, her lack of an intelligible vagina. How come we hear of chauvinist pigs but we never hear of feminist pigs? If one exists so must the other. Did you think yin-yangs or 8-balls were cooler? I was a yin-yang lad until I learned how to draw the Stussy "S" in seventh grade and then it was all over, I gave me heart to the evil corporate pushermen who ran Stussy. Where are you now Stussy? If you would've asked me in 7th grade if Stussy would be long gone by now, I probably would've called you a dumb-ass scrounge and told you Stussy would be making tuxedos now or at least be bigger than Nike. Bruce Springsteen once said "the times they are a changin'." I never had any idea why that was such a brilliant statement. Yeah, no shit dude. Times are changing. Wow. WOW! What an insightful observation. I heard he wrote another song that was hella important and intellectual called "B comes after A in the alphabet" and one called "water is wet" and of course his classic acoustic ballad "I pooped my pants and now my pants smell like squished poop."

What-EVER! I was just going to write one sentence and then direct y'all to a cool art shirt website on which I wrote some dope junk. Here it is:
http://chunksandnuglets.universalerror.com/


ADDENDUM: My mind was blown when I learned that Paul Mitchell was a real dude, I thought he was like an invented corporate whore slave like Betty Crocker. For me, learning that Paul Mitchell was a real guy was almost as crazy is if the Graffix bong jester skull was alive.