By Smaktakula
Why does the public insist on believing the web of lies surrounding the death of Quasimodo the Bell-Ringer?
Open your eyes, America!
They Know The Awful Truth About What Happened That Day In The Cathedral, And Won’t Rest Until You Do.
Recent Comments
Brilliant.
Thanks, Ruby–and welcome!
This is the same America that is premiering a reality TV show tonight about a 6-year-old pageant girl named Honey Boo Boo and her “white trash” family (the media’s words, not mine). Tis a wise country indeed.
And no, my comment isn’t really relevant, but I didn’t know what else to say…
All kidding aside, I think it was completely relevant. “Honey Boo Boo Chile” is a symptom of the same disease.
I hadn’t thought about it until just now, but even “White Trash” have gotten the PC makeover. Growing up, did you call them “White Trash?” No, it’s a lot more likely you called them “POOR white trash.” We can judge them for their trashy whiteness, but not for their penchant for malt liquor and lottery tickets.
Growing up, I suspect I WAS that poor white trash. Or at least a muted version…
Carrie, you are so funny. (your comment below Smak’s).
Thank you. And I wish I were kidding, but some of my old K-Mart clothes would prove otherwise. Of course, now I’m sophisticated and shop at The Gap and Old Navy. And on special occasions, Banana Republic (you see, you can order from all three of these partner companies in the same location online–I am a very lazy shopper.)
We are much alike, friend.
My family was one step up from poor white trash. Dad always preferred having import cars out front up on blocks, and beer (on the very rare occasion Dad dared to sneak a six pack of beer in the house) was always Michelob, never Colt 45.
Michelob! Wow, I’m impressed. I don’t believe there was any of that in our house. But I do remember Pabst Blue Ribbon and big boxes of wine…
I like Sutterhome when I drink wine. It has a screw-off top so I don’t need a corkscrew and I can reseal it when I’m done.
Nothing wrong with being practical.
I ruined myself on screw-top wine in college. My now-wife (then just a pal) and I used to fill squirt-bottles (remember them?) with cheap white wine and Cactus Cooler and just get hammered. One night of cheap white wine, Mickey’s Big Mouths and a shot of Everclear ruined me for white wine to this day (even the good stuff). I live in California’s wine country (the B-List wine country, though; Napa’s where it’s at), and we belong to two wine clubs, but it’s gotta be red for me.
And no boxes. Can I tell a difference in taste? Hell, no–most wine smarties (I tried to write ‘connesuers’ but my spell check was no help–see?) can’t tell the difference. For me, it all boils down to being a shallow snob.
We were there, too. When I was very young my mom lived on the Social Security payment we got for my dad, and then she worked in a pet shop for minimum wage where her boss couldn’t always afford to pay her. I know that a parent’s income can often be correlated to a child’s intelligence or future level of success, but it shouldn’t have to be.
Perfect.
Thanks, Tom! I feared that half the people who saw this would ask “What the fuck is he talking about now?” and the other half would ask “Is this some Obama thing?”
Red-jacketed kid is really pissed about his folks threatening to take away the X-Box unless he attended the protest.
Red-capped man is recalling how miserable and sex-less his college days were, and god-damn-it, if abstinence was good enough for him then no fag-worshipping, abortion-loving, president should come around poisoning the minds of the youth of this great institution.
Sign holding kid is praying…’dear god, please don’t let anyone see me here, I’m so gonna get my ass kicked on Monday….I just know it.’
Blue shirt/tan jacket guy just found out that his Catholic girlfriend is pregnant……
Awesome, Alex! Your comments are funnier than the actual post. Which in a way, is NOT cool!
I’m one of the people saying what is he talking about. Sorry, this is over my head. Or something. But just stopping by to say hey anyway.
Well, that’s good enough–I have to ask myself that sometimes, too. Thanks for stopping by!
Say what you will about them, at least this sign has correct spelling.