Monday, June 30, 2008

Irony Deficiency

I am sitting in a windowless dungeon of a room somewhere in the depths of the building housing my precious WJFK. My job is officially called "content editor" but more humorously referred to as "the dumper". Little do they know as they joke in this manner that dumping is something I take very seriously, usually while reading classic literature or solving sophisticated crossword puzzles. In any case this is an awkward position for me because while I understand my duties, I can't help feeling strange about having to essentially censor people at the precise moment that they're actually saying something interesting and provocative. So much for the land of the free and the home of the brave when silly little words like "penis", "vagina", "boobies", "handjob" and the like must be guarded against with the same vigilance we're dedicating to fighting global terror... Which is another crock of buttered excrement, if we're on the topic, which we're not...

Had a barbecue at mother-in-law's yesterday. Had a lovely discussion (and I use the term "lovely" very loosely) about the dangers of letting gay couples adopt children. Even the 84-year-old grandma chimed in, purely in Greek, to denounce the effect of those toxic gays on poor impressionable young minds. My husband and I attempted to stand up for our homo loving ways, but were outnumbered, so eventually just gave up. To drive the point home - that theirs is a red-blooded, all-American BBQ - several people tried to feed us skirt steak, even going so far as to hold it hopefully in front of our faces. We did not break. We pursed our lips indignantly and munched on the chickpeas and portabellos and potato salad we filled our plates with. There were also crabs and shrimp, and while I tried to partake in that, it was difficult. The shrimp were too big and too meaty, and I was unable to suppress my feelings of empathy for the poor dead creatures. And just imagine how horrible the steamed crabs were! I saw their guts and their gills, and realized once and for all that I'd effectively killed the carnivore instinct inside of me. I used to love munching on ribs and chicken bones, sucking the juices and meat shreds down my throat, but now the idea of it really troubles me. I am made of the same meat and bones as all those other critters, and I don't think I would smile upon being devoured in an orgiastic feast, being boiled alive! My addiction to baked sole filets and smoked salmon will be hard to break, but I'm seriously considering stopping it all together. Then I will be 99% vegan. I doubt I'll ever give up eggs. I'm not a masochist, after all.

In other great news, children's thongs are now on the market and available for mass consumption!

And for those blood-thirsty devils among you, check this out:

It was featured in this Maxim magazine left for me in my "editing" cell.