Improvident Bastards and The Downfall of Man
Have you seen this tripe: I Want a Famous Face, or whatever the name of this hideous, awful show is? It’s about a bunch of women who all want to look like some flash-in-the-pan, ten-minute celebrity (like Pamela Anderson or Jennifer Lopez) and they give them plastic surgery to help them “achieve their dreams.” Oh, sweet Jesus Lord Christ Above and Hell Below! Allow me to express my hatred, here.
Blonde is not beautiful. Tan skin is not beautiful. Huge, disproportionate breasts are not beautiful, either. Anorexic complexions with skeleton frames and protruding ribcages supporting orange-charred flesh painted in make-up is not beautiful. Fuck society’s image of the perfect woman. Fuck the fashion magazines and the entertainment television shows, the music videos and the bubblegum-pop starettes. Fuck all that shit, and never, ever stop fucking it. There are not enough italicised words to convey my rage.
This show: it fails. It fails with a Failure Rating of 100%; it fails with such extreme prejudice that its failure is hardly contained by my meagre rating system. Why? Why does it fail so much, you dare ask (or you don’t – like that’ll stop me)?
It symbolises the huge, gaping, festering problem with American society, that is why it fails harder than an undiagnosed retard in advanced Calculus class. I am sick of “blonde, buxom babes,” and, moreover, the troupe of sorority girls on campuses nationwide who all look like clones with bad dye-jobs. Look, the reason why blonde hair was originally associated with beauty was because it was rare, thus exotic and interesting. This quality is destroyed when every third woman has blonde hair. It’s come to a point where I find a natural brunette to be inexplicably intriguing because it’s like spotting a white tiger in the Amazon.
Am I the only man alive who desires a woman who looks human, not like some abhorrent rendition of a Barbie doll that has a higher ratio of organic matter to plastic than the doll herself? Certainly, yes, there is an aesthetic quality to the oiled-up, posed and primped models you find in glamour and “gentleman’s” magazines – I will not be the hypocrite who denies that. But, that’s a novelty, like a glass elephant figurine you perch on a shelf in the living-room; it’s not something you want to marry. That’s what it is, really: it comes down to that these women are trophies -- for display, not purpose.
All I’m saying is show me a woman who isn’t “perfect,” who doesn’t care whether or not she matches up to what the rest of the bleeding world envisions the ideal woman. Actually, I’m not saying I don’t already see this, but . . . Jesus Christ, seeing some blonde airhead on television being patted on the back and congratulated for the fact that doctors just wasted precious time and material to make her breasts look five times too large for her frame, it elicits such frothy, furious anger. Nobody should be rewarding this mentality, it’s disgusting and deplorable and other such d-words that mean really bad.
I don’t want to exist in a society that condones such shit, that’s what it boils down to reveal. Rawrgh!
Kill . . . Everything!
Blonde is not beautiful. Tan skin is not beautiful. Huge, disproportionate breasts are not beautiful, either. Anorexic complexions with skeleton frames and protruding ribcages supporting orange-charred flesh painted in make-up is not beautiful. Fuck society’s image of the perfect woman. Fuck the fashion magazines and the entertainment television shows, the music videos and the bubblegum-pop starettes. Fuck all that shit, and never, ever stop fucking it. There are not enough italicised words to convey my rage.
This show: it fails. It fails with a Failure Rating of 100%; it fails with such extreme prejudice that its failure is hardly contained by my meagre rating system. Why? Why does it fail so much, you dare ask (or you don’t – like that’ll stop me)?
It symbolises the huge, gaping, festering problem with American society, that is why it fails harder than an undiagnosed retard in advanced Calculus class. I am sick of “blonde, buxom babes,” and, moreover, the troupe of sorority girls on campuses nationwide who all look like clones with bad dye-jobs. Look, the reason why blonde hair was originally associated with beauty was because it was rare, thus exotic and interesting. This quality is destroyed when every third woman has blonde hair. It’s come to a point where I find a natural brunette to be inexplicably intriguing because it’s like spotting a white tiger in the Amazon.
Am I the only man alive who desires a woman who looks human, not like some abhorrent rendition of a Barbie doll that has a higher ratio of organic matter to plastic than the doll herself? Certainly, yes, there is an aesthetic quality to the oiled-up, posed and primped models you find in glamour and “gentleman’s” magazines – I will not be the hypocrite who denies that. But, that’s a novelty, like a glass elephant figurine you perch on a shelf in the living-room; it’s not something you want to marry. That’s what it is, really: it comes down to that these women are trophies -- for display, not purpose.
All I’m saying is show me a woman who isn’t “perfect,” who doesn’t care whether or not she matches up to what the rest of the bleeding world envisions the ideal woman. Actually, I’m not saying I don’t already see this, but . . . Jesus Christ, seeing some blonde airhead on television being patted on the back and congratulated for the fact that doctors just wasted precious time and material to make her breasts look five times too large for her frame, it elicits such frothy, furious anger. Nobody should be rewarding this mentality, it’s disgusting and deplorable and other such d-words that mean really bad.
I don’t want to exist in a society that condones such shit, that’s what it boils down to reveal. Rawrgh!
Kill . . . Everything!
posted by c.Jay Wrong at
2:48 PM
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