2011 was not a great year for anyone.
- Horrific atrocities were committed around the world with no end in sight. (Also, no one is talking about how Scott Disick is Patrick Bateman.)
- Millions went hungry and were without clean water. (Also, Maroon 5 is a band and not, as I had hoped, the grandest prank ever.)
- Freedom fighters and protesters around the world were criminalized. (Also, Rick Perry still thinks a Rabbi is, “one of them High-Falutin’ Rabbits.”)
Shit did not go well.
In 2012, we were looking for reasons to hope again. If the world was going to collapse in a fiery Mayan pogrom of aliens, Mel Gibsonry, and some haunted-ass, baby-eating toaster ovens, we needed something big to believe in.
We were waiting for Jesus’ beautiful toasted holiness on a whole roll of Ritz. We were waiting on Chris Christie and a flamethrower. We were waiting for Family Guy to be funny again.
The sign we were given that all would be right with the world is…this.
Sweet Mary Mother of Jesus, what in the shit is happening.
We’ve reached critical mass of Us Magazine ‘celebrities’ on an island, in a house, dancing, cooking, losing weight, getting clean, giving percussion massages to old nuns, or even having sex (Okay, Fred Durst?). And I will watch damn near anything have sex with another anything. That is, anyone but Rachael Ray and Goddamn Guy Fieri.
I might still watch a Paula Deen donkey show, but only because I’d want to see how much butter would be necessary in that situation.
A quick run-down of issues with the show:
- Fuck you, Rachael Ray, you many-toothed whore-god of sunny bullshit and the brightly colored cookware you rode in on.
- Fuck you too Guy Fieri, you TGI Friday’s peddling cankerous cuntwoggle and the way you pronounce Fieri as “Fee-eh-di” you pubethatch-bearded son of a bitch.
- Fuck you, Coolio, for making this literal shitshow your comeback. Dennis Rodman is coaching a topless basketball team, and you’re chopping broccoli with Oprah’s Tit-polisher and New Jersey’s photo negative.
A final and heavy-handed FUCK YOU to the Food Network for this abomination of a television program. I have more respect for the inventors of the fold-away boat. I have more respect for the History Channel and the fact that all of their writers are crazy-weilding scientologists. I have more respect for Kris Jenner’s vaginated gaggle of siliconed antelope.
Fuck you for thinking that we would want to watch this. Fuck you for Rachael Ray’s boots and your continued payment of Guy Fieri. Fuck you for making me a little hungry writing this post.
I wish, just once, I could have a good relationship with a cooking show.
What abominations of the world have you seen that you’re sure is a sign of end times? Is it that waitress that believes ants are taking over the world? Your aunt who gets all judge-y with her wig all askew? That race of Super-Mayans they just found out about? Do share!
—Favorite Comment From The Last Post: From Danielle Geer: “Next year, everyone gets vagina jewelry for Christmas.”