So, let the rantings commence!
First of all, if you are stupid enough to feed your cat 5 to 6 pounds of chicken and fish everyday, someone should lock you up not put you on the front page of the idiotic Japanese paper that published this picture. Looking for a little attention? Try getting a personality and let your poor cat alone. Sheesh!
Secondly, I don't care who made the best and worst dressed list at the Oscars. I don't care who showed up arm-in-arm together. I don't care who Joan Rivers insulted. These people's job is to make good movies, period. They need to just focus on that judging from the plethora of cinematic crap out there today. And besides, there happen to be bigger issues like oh, I don't know....killing arabs for cheap oil? Let's get our priorities straight, people. Once we quit killing people for little or no reason other than they don't like our God and happen to be pitching their tent on the largest oil reserve in the world, then we can worry about how Charlize Theron could look so damn happy with that ugly dress on (and it was hideous, doncha think?)
Here's one that should go without saying: the point of reporting atrocities such as the hate-mongers at the soldier's funeral is to hopefully discourage other would-be demonstrators and haters at future soldiers' funerals. Balance in journalism, hell! The only airtime those bigots deserve is the airtime it takes to announce their impending doom. Or something like that. Get 'em off the screen and go back to the best and worst dressed list. Cocks and bullocks!
Last but not least, here's my favorite: Oprah's Greatest Moments on DVD....because just seeing her for an hour and a half every day is not enough. Because having her name slapped all over every sappy memoir-cum-fiction is not enough. Because having dung-headed housewives TiVo-ing her show and then quoting her like the Goddamn Proverbs is not enough. We want to shell out $29.95 so we can relive those moments again and again.
God bless American Media.
Hey, I found a perfect picture of one o' them there air-sucking red-necks. Here, caught in the act of nostril-flaring oxygen sucking.....my boyfriend, The George.