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Sunday, July 26, 2015


Know what's rankling me to the moon and back this morning? I'll tell ya!

Outta shape, mega slovenly, toting-an-extra-40-pounds-of-flab, crass, muthafuckers who’ve the stunningly UN-self aware temerity to slam women for being other than svelte, blond, smooth skinned and depilated back to a pre-K state.

I imagine we’ve all met this brand of ignoramus. The type of guy who thinks it’s high toned comedy to sneeringly point out a woman’s extra baggage, in the lowest, most junior high bully kind of way. He’ll have a good-ol’-boys hardy-har-har with his buds about this person who visually offends him so mightily. Oh and if the full figured babe happens to be within hearing—well, boyhowdy, that makes it ALL the more funny! The dude must figure he’s the second coming of Andrew Dice Clay. Guess what smegma breath? Clay wasn’t funny either.

Christ I’d like to  hold a mirror up to these asswipes and ask them to have a real solid view of themselves. The insulter’s visage would make even Earnest Borgnine's mug attractive. His figure makes Chris Farley (RIP) seem spruce and studly.

But I don’t—hold the mirror up that is. Warum? Eh, like good ol’ G.B. Shaw said:
"I learned long ago, never to wrestle with a pig. You get dirty, and besides, the pig likes it."
palate cleansing prettiness
Why’s this come up? Did someone give me shit about my weight? No. Rather, no one besides myself (I’m working on it, I’m working on it and NOT because I want to look like Penelope Cruz {hells, that’d be sweet though!} I’m losing the weight because it’s the healthier track to be on). A friend recently told me that she was the recipient of a Dice-Clay-wannabe epithet. I didn’t hear it (of course and duh) but if I had I'd've gone full metal Boudicca on his flabby ass.

Christ on a tamari, seaweed brown rice cake (mmmmm), do these fools not see that they make complete, blockheaded horses asses of themselves when they diss someone for their appearance? Perhaps they’re admirers of that spectacularly dimwitted, draft dodging, vile piece of weasel excrement, Ted Nugent who claims that “fat women will kill you.”
“ drugs, no alcohol, no tobacco and no fat chicks. Stuff will kill you, Pete, I’m telling you, it’s deadly.” 
Nugent notably boasted to High Times magazine in 1977 that he dodged fighting in the Vietnam War by defecating and vomiting on himself and his clothes and and not washing, taking hard drugs and pretending to be mentally disturbed.
Jokes on him—he didn't need to pretend.

I understand that not all men who slam women for their looks are Nugentian pedophilic shitstains (heh, pun not intended but enjoyed nonetheless) but, hells bells, they put themselves in some desperately repulsive company.

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