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Wednesday, Jan 7, 2009
Warning: It's "Deadwood"-speak week, whores and whoremongers! Those with fragile sensibilities should follow their fancy elsewhere!
May 1, 2005 | Deadwood phrases
Welcome, fair cocksuckers, to the latest fucking dispatch, hot off the presses, typed by the humble hand and surveyed by the sullen jaw of one who eyeballs far more of the televised entertainments than can be good or natural for any man, even the sorts of dimwits and hoopleheads and crusty old relics who favor such sorrowfully empty pastimes over fresh air or a good fuck.
But far be it from me to lament my circumstances in any way! I'm feeling less than my full fucking self, but that doesn't change the fact that the so-called puerile habit of amusing myself with frivolous narratives and elaborate games of fancy has only served to enrich my understanding of humankind, and I'm wed to these unpredictable narratives as the dope fiend is to his opium. Lest my initiative and leadership abilities and stick-fucking-to-itiveness all be in fucking question, you may rest assured that I continue to enjoy myself and relish the countless rewards of my employment here despite my utter inability to locate the underlying charms of "Dog the Bounty Hunter."
If I might talk plainly, though, I admit I grow weary of one particular fucking branch of the reality genre, the subcategory that focuses most unmercifully on the demi-freaks and semi-untouchables of modern society, the types who, however their odd little quirks might beguile and delight, provide the sorts of distractions that surely turn us irreparably from the face of God. While the hideousness or unworldly ways of the captives featured in such foolish entertainments might serve to bolster our egos at the least, the repeated viewing of inane banter between repugnant strangers with no stated goal beyond preening and prancing before the camera's eye no longer holds my interest and will be deleted from my personal agenda henceforth.
I can help my delicate sensibilities by turning the fuck away. Thus shall "Gastineau Girls" and "American Chopper" and "Marriage 911" and the like be sidestepped in favor of more sporting or educational fare, featuring as it so often does compelling or at least vaguely intriguing individuals, whimsical competitions, world travel, or painting a young thing in bright colors like a celestial, then perching her on the hood of a '57 Chevy, bottom side up. Subsequently, I will restrict my viewing to spectacles whose participants strive for concrete goals -- immunity, contracts securing work as a whore for the garment makers, free trips to Florida to have your belly rubbed by a Seminole, employment among the sorts of millinery-samples-suitcase cocksuckers and society people of New York City who live with their heads up their asses, big bags of gold, and the like. Without such tangible goals, the species seems to devolve into incivility and vituperation. Personally, I'm waiting to be kept happy by another fucking fairy tale.
Family cocksuckers and the like
As for the rest of these mediocre entertainments it is my undying obligation to digest, the worst of which continue to be the so-called comedies that wouldn't make a roomful of halfwits and drunks chuckle softly, I will continue to subject myself as best I fucking can. Be that as it may, considering the piss-poor state of the sitcom, it's worth mentioning that "American Dad" (Sundays at 9:30 p.m. EDT on Fox), Seth McFarlane's latest confabulation of animated cocksuckers, has a few distinguishing characteristics that set it apart from the detritus.
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