Monday, July 21, 2008

Just say you love me, one last time

Women can get away with wearing demeaning, stereotypical phrases on their shirts.

I’ve seen women walking in skirts so short that their cellulosic cysts hung out the bottom, and that seems more respectable than wearing an article of clothing with slogans like, The guy I’m gold-digging paid for this shirt, cum dumpster, or I slept with your boyfriend.

The only catch is that they have to print all such phrases and slogans in a girlish script… it also doesn’t help if the letters are outlined in glitter. Without the glitter, it’s just cheap and tawdry.

It makes me think that shamelessly flaunting our least attractive qualities is a profitable business. Maybe my line of men’s t-shirts, emblazoned with slogans like Date Rapist, Deadbeat Dad, and Domestic Abuser, wouldn’t have failed miserably and cost me a ton of money, if I surrounded the letters in… well, not glitter, because men aren’t so big on that, but maybe sports team logos.

I can’t think of any other group that could flaunt their stereotypes so blatantly and not feel the least bit cheap about it… except for maybe rednecks.

It makes me have a lot less sympathy for women in general when their attempts to own their labels puts them in the same camp as the people most likely to make them victims of domestic abuse.

It’s not helping their cause; still, it’s nothing that can’t be forgiven.

If women want to objectify themselves, then there’s nothing the rest of us can do but shove dollar bills in their pants and offer them drugs in exchange for sexual favors.

It all comes back to that hideous double standard.

No, not the one that everyone talks about, the one that makes it okay for a man to have sex with lots of women, but not the other way around; I’m talking about how every man wants to have an intense sexual relationship with a deviant, female freak, but balks when his daughter embarks on that particular path.

All because of some sick desire that people have to torture themselves.

A family works best when its members support one another; so, if you’re daughter wants to become a stripper, then a dedicated father should be all for it… because I certainly will, and if your daughter isn’t getting the support she needs from her parents, then she’s much more likely to turn to a guy like me for solace.

I don’t know if taking advantage of an emotionally distraught stripper’s daddy issues makes me a bad person, but it certainly limits my political career’s distance.

Our politicians could never get away with saying half of the things I do, because I’m not currently running for political office; however, I do plan on someday joining the rest of the self-deluded crackpots and throwing my hat into the political ring, so I should probably watch what I say now… only I can’t do that. I could no more clean up my writing than George Carlin could keep telling jokes now that he’s dead.

Perhaps all politicians start out as comedy writers, and they work on their jokes for so long that they eventually forget that they’re joking; the next thing you know, they’re standing on the Senate floor demanding that the cafeteria change the name Fried Chicken to Fried Freedom, because the word chicken embiggens the terrorists.

Everybody would like to think that they’re not a joke, but at some point in time, it happens to everyone; the smart thing is to try to get ahead of the joke, so that you come off looking affable and friendly, but the even smarter thing is to pick on someone who can’t defend themselves and get so busy laughing at someone else that they don’t notice when photos of you and Karl Rove taking a dump in Rush Limbaugh’s mouth surface on the internet.

That’s why, to so many bullies, politicians and women make excellent punching bags. Sure, you may not see me on COPS in my yellowing jockey shorts, screaming at the police about how my bruised wife is nothing but a common liar, but, by picking on politicians, I’m not much better.

Some of you are probably thinking to yourself that politicians deserve it, that they were asking for it, that if only they would make sure that our pipes are packed, our dinners hot when we get home, and our clandestine homosexuality overlooked then none of this would happen; but the truth is that we can’t expect our politicians to do everything for us.

That’s when politicians get desperate, and they start spouting all kinds of ridiculous things like Iraq has weapons of mass destruction, I never said Iraq had weapons of mass destruction, and the tape you have of me saying that is a lie, or I swear the kindergarten teacher told me that her students were all eighteen when I paid her seventy dollars a piece for them; you know, the kinds of things I say all the time, and it costs them their career because we’re just waiting for them to give us an excuse so we can slap them around like that time they told their cousin about that thing we like them to do to us in bed.

So, when I run for president, I’m just going to take all of the awful, ribald things I say, print them on t-shirts, and cover the whole mess in a glitter font. That way, people give me the same level of respect they would ordinarily only reserve for a redneck… or a whore.

Sex Mahoney for President



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Regrets
by A Clear Blur
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