Wheelchair Rubber

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COC
So, according to a new study, Viagra may cause you to go blind.

Also, I'm told it makes your palms hairy.

MR

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"True morality ignores all morality."
-Pascal

Thumpy? Thump My Pornoburger, Baby!

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POP
Paris Soaps Self, Slithers Down Bentley, Sops Slimy Burger

Now, this is tv! Naturally, my first thought as a self-righteous, "Not All Who Wander Are Lost" liberal heathen is to condemn the Parents Television Council for trying to de-air the spot because -- their reasoning -- as a commercial, it could be on at any time, and thus they simply can't control it, or control their kids, or control their co-workers, or their neighbors, or the greater Fort Lauderdale area, or the world.

But there's another level here. Look a little closer at what that devious yellow star is doing. He's taking that big political cartoon elephant with his cartoon bible and pulpit, and sticking a big, metaphorical thumb up its pachyderm ass.

Did you see their previous ad? I didn't think about this myself until a right-leaning site linked it to a story on the current one. That ad features the talking ultrasound of an unborn baby, in the womb, threatening its mother with physical violence. Can I just say:

YESSSSS!!!!

We have liftoff! This is what television needs more of. Outright provocation of people who can't quite catch up with the times quick enough to stop it. It's like the THG of entertainment! And certainly they can't resist. (What, and not watch tv? And don't knock my soapbox, I've gone without plenty, thanks. You feel better for it; it's like cutting your consumption of cigarettes, or TenderNob hookers.)

Yes, it would seem that Carl's kid, whomever he may be, is deliberately sticking it to a demographic that largely controls the current paradigm of information dissemination. Hitting them where they live.

Does this remind you at all of the Bible-thumpers -- many of them black -- who shook their heads in the mid-1900's and condemned patrons of jazz and blues to the eternal fires of hell for dancing to "the Devil's music?" The Carl's Jr story's most widely-printed quote is from PTC research director Melissa Caldwell, who gasps, "The way [Paris] moves, the way she puts her finger in her mouth -- it's very suggestive and very titillating."

Excellent. Excellent!!! It's the dark side of the force, you stiff-necked pencil-nibblers. I would love to point out here: the word "suggestive" is not really a negative word, but usually, as in this case, just a euphamism for something stronger. "Titillating," however, means so much more. To gauge exactly how the ad made this woman feel, I looked up "titillate" in the American Heritage dictionary.

It means "to excite pleasurably; [to] arouse." Sweet! She dug it.

Like the We'll Make You Stop Being Gay Camp founder leaving his wife for a man. Like Brett Butler leaving the Giants for the Dodgers. That dirty traitor. Probably took it up the ass from Hershiser right there in the clubhouse. (I'm not saying it's bad to be a homosexual; I'm saying that that behavior's unsanitary so close to the postgame spread.)

The beauty of all this moralmongering? Carl and his people have organized it so that Caldwell and company are, in the Quixoteist sense, tilting at windmills. They are railing against something that doesn't exist. Paris Hilton eat a big, sloppy burger? She wouldn't be caught dead. Despite the ad's obvious intentions, sexy image and drippy burger are polar opposites to its feature performer. If I'm a high school English teacher -- and I'm not saying I'm not, so run and hide the kiddies! -- I'm airing this in class as a clear, effective example of irony.

I pronounce myself twice delighted that the entire freak show is available online, at http://www.carlsjr.com, complete with sixty second "uncut," unaired version of the Hilton spot. And you know? With all the rageaholic unborn babies and anorexic, bikinied burger-slurpers, one fact remains: the one with the chick on the mechanical bull has 'em all beat.

MR

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"Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace."
-Amelia Earhart

I'm Mildly Peeved About That Catchy Slogan!

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POL
So, today I was checking into the inspiring, incestuous world of blogging. I don't know where these people get the energy, but apparently lots of them are reading each others' posts, and posting about them, and responding to the posts about that, and so on. It reminded me of a print ad I once saw: $49.99 to attend a seminar entitled, "How To Become A $1,000-A-Day Seminar Leader." That's a profit of, let me see here...

Anyway, I have to admit to a perverse satisfaction in reading about our No Fat Chicks Bumper Sticker In Chief. Catch of the day is the Smirking Chimp site, only for their slogan: "Ask not at whom the chimp smirks, he smirks at you."

But, to the point. Let's say you really get the wind up your nose about this whole thing. Begin to get all agro. Start punching in daring, radical keywords into Google (before it's too late.)

Go to http://ImpeachBush.com. Go. I dare you.

Or, for the weak of heart, I'll tell you what you can find there. And it will shock you.

There's several things, actually. There's a redirect to eBay, believe it or not. And a flummox-worthy invitation to buy "our politically correct Political T-shirts." (Mightn't "political" and "politically correct" be mutually exclusive?) Now, I have to admit, it's hard to supress a chuckle at the coffee mug that muses, "If Kerry is the answer, it must have been a stupid question."

But where is the rage? We're learning. Bush DEFINITELY went AWOL -- that's Absent Without Leave -- several years before sending his band of flying monkeys to attack the validity of Kerry's third Purple Heart. And his administration DEFINITELY, no questions asked, no denials denied, made up "facts" and discarded other "facts" to prove whatever they thought would let them get at Saddam's oil, because Saddam "tried to kill my Daddy" (actual quote.) And you know what? After discovering the fancy memo, Britain also discovered: that it didn't give an airborne turd. And you know what else?

Yeah, you know: neither do we.

I tell you what. I'll tell you how to turn your vote into TWO votes. See, only half of registered voters vote at all (given unusually high turnout, in fact.) So, when you cast your vote for Ralph Nader (because you hate America) you're also voting in place of that fat, bald guy sitting on his dilapadated porch just south of Tampa, trying to even out his sunburn, and wondering idly whether his Bud Lite would look more upper-crust with a little umbrella in it.

Could you pretty please do at least that fucking much?

MR

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"Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup; they tumble as they pass, they slip away across the universe..."
-George Harrison

Mild-Mannered Reporter Has Tits Done

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TOP5
According to MSN.com, the Top Five "Search Movers" are currently these:

Superman
Breast reduction
Beyoncé Knowles
Heart disease
Osama bin Laden

Press releases were quickly issued on behalf of all five, insisting they'd never been seen in the same room as the other four.

MR

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"I want to spend the last fifteen minutes of my life with my hands around the neck of a white man."
-Miles Davis

WELL ARE YOU?

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STU
This post has been removed by the editor because it is stupid.

MR

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"The future will be better tomorrow."
-George W. Bush

She Blinded Me With Science!

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SCI
Well all right! Some news we can sink our teeth into.

A study just published by Swedish researchers (God bless 'em, those Swedish researchers. Esphere de rinky-doo, de hypothalamus!) draws conclusions to indicate the existence of human pheremones. The debate centering on the possible existence of human pheremones has run the gamut in recent years in the scientific community -- and, no joke, in the perfumery community.

But now we have this to back up our own locker-room debates. The sainted Swedish researchers waved some human female underarm sweat under the noses of some males... and don't you wish you'd been there to witness history?... and, through brain imaging, which is different from tie-dye, discovered that the men's smelly-parts stayed calm, but their sexy-parts revved up.

Oh, except -- except for gay men. The gay men, instead, reacted with their ordinary smelly-parts just as women did. Ah, but when you swap the underarm sweat for MALE underarm sweat (or, in some cases, Folgers Crystals) the women's sexy-parts fairly squirt tie-dye, the straight men's stay cool, and as usual, the gay men squirt with the women.

What does this mean? It means if we want to become both rich and famous, we should become Swedish researchers. (Think they hang out with the Swedish Bikini Team? And where does the team swim, anyway, in their delightfully skimpy bikinis, in that snow-bound land? Is their a big Polar Bear Club crossover? Sexy blonde waifs diving through ice with fat, hairy men? And real polar bears, who drink a lot of Coca-Cola?)

It means, first of all, that the gay men aren't just Faking It, as Pat Robertson and them-all would have you believe. It also means that neck-snuzzling is popular for a reason. And if you ask me, your humble blogger, I will tell you: humans are a kind of animal; animals use pheremones; humans, you have to give me this at least, have some awfully funny mating habits.

The truth is out there. If you build it, they will cum.

MR

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"There are two kinds of women: goddesses and doormats."
-Pablo Picasso