The Bloggingest Week 5: Easy

(The Bloggingest Week is a week where I have mental diarrhea I’ve got way too much to say and/or I found a ton of cool stuff on the Internets and have to share it every single day.  You’ve been warned.)

My Everyone Else Is An Idiot category sure is easy to fill.  For example, I think the world would have less idiots in it if it weren’t for PETA.  Goddamn idiots.  This time, they want a polar bear in a German zoo to be castrated.  I know.  I know what you’re thinking.  Castration doesn’t sound like very ethical treatment to me, either.  It sounds painful, cruel, and entirely unnecessary.  See, that’s exactly what I would expect PETA to say, too, but once more, they’ve contradicted all known logic in the universe and said that castrating a polar bear is the best thing humans could do.  Because if Knut (I know, but he’s German so it’s a long U!) isn’t castrated, he could possibly mate with a female polar bear named Giovanna.  Who is his cousin.  And that would be incest.  Which would make their offspring depressed.

Okay, PETA.  You got us.  You can give it up now.  We all know you’re actually a guerilla comedy troupe and nothing you say could possibly be real.

Oh, wait.  Sorry, that was just a tiny little broadcast from the ever-shrinking hopeful part of my brain.  It’s just that I’m always horrified + amazed at the level of stupidity just rocketing through the ranks at PETA.  I used to live in the same city as their headquarters, you know.  PETA’s building was a pretty skyscraper (well, for Virginia, anyway) situated on the curve of a bay.  Looked nice.  I didn’t know then that those facilities weren’t no-kill, and in fact euthanized nearly 85% of the animals in its shelter per year.  Because, they claimed, they couldn’t afford to feed them.

They don’t tell you that.  Instead of buying pet food, they spend millions on campaigns to call fish “sea kittens” and continue to take photos of Pamela Anderson, who maintains that she’d rather go naked than wear fur.  Now, I don’t know the woman, but based on her history, I think she’d rather go naked than do a lot of things.  Which is fine for her, but even if I were famous and superhot and had some community service hours to perform, I still wouldn’t pose for fucking PETA.

I mean, polar bear incest?  Fucking really?  PETA’s spokesperson for this actually said, “A long-term cohabitation between Giovanna and Knut is only feasible if Knut is castrated.”

Right.  Hey, you bleeding heart idiot, ignoring the fact that we’re talking about a species that doesn’t mate for life or have sex for erotic pleasure, what “longterm cohabitation” do you know of that survives without sex?  OH, I know, how about we start neutering you feckless morons to prevent cruelty to the rest of us sane people?

And THIS woman.

To be honest, I didn’t read the story, but I think I understand the point.  When Tiger Woods was just a golf dork without millions upon millions of dollars in the bank, he probably didn’t cheat on his college girlfriend (but he definitely stole whiskey).  Well.  No shit.

I suppose this comes as a surprise to the people who buy into the sexual addiction excuse, but those of us who believe in being responsible for our own actions know that it’s hard to get cocktail waitresses and porn* stars to bounce around on your dick when you don’t have any bloody money.

Tiger Woods isn’t addicted to sex.  He’s an idiot.  He’s an idiot who followed his penis into women who preferred infamy over dignity, and the only thing he’s sorry about is getting caught.  In (I’m guessing) most people, infidelity is impulsive, but impulsive behavior isn’t addictive behavior.  Addicts follow a very distinct, intent, pre-meditated pattern of behavior.  They plan to feed their addictions.  Impulsives act on, well, impulse.  What, boobs?  Where?  Vagina?  There!  Boobs and vagina?  Boobs and vagina!  Get dick out.  Get dick out NOW.  Aaaaah.  That’s the stuff.

I don’t give a shit if Tiger Woods goes to 10 sex rehabs, just like I don’t give a shit if one of those PETA knobheads gets mauled by a sexually frustrated polar bear.  Idiots.  All of them.

*It cracks me up when I mistype it as “pron.”  Every single time.

About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
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