Monday, April 12, 2004

Cherished Spring Tradition #37: The Easter Egg Witch Hunt

I was all set to raise this blog from the dead on Sunday, in honor of Easter, but I got a little tripped up by all the Christian "fuzzy math" and had to ditch the idea. Q.v.: tradition/Mel Gibson tells us that Jesus was hung out to die by the filthy Jews on Good Friday, then "on the third day he rose again." Nowadays some celebrate that resurrection on Easter Sunday, but that's not quite right, as technically the "third day" of JC's crucifixion (i.e., 72 hours after they first strung him up) is actually about right now, Monday late afternoon, and not Easter Sunday morning. So in fact, by resurrecting my blog on Monday midday, I am more correct than all of Christendom and have once again proven myself more right and upstanding than those goddamn Bible-thumpers with their brains so full of the LOVE OF OUR LORD JESUS that they have no room for things like reality or chronology or accurate time-keeping. (Hell, in refusing to recognize divorce, the Catholic Church alone is some 475 years behind everyone else.) Homos 1, Christians 0!

But why focus solely on the "celebrating it on the wrong day" tradition of Easter when there are plenty of other dumbass Easter rituals, like biting the heads off bunnies and wandering aimlessly around outside in fetching crinoline frocks while hunting for Easter eggs? Be glad you don't celebrate Easter in Michigan, where some kids out hunting for hidden eggs found a hidden cache of loaded guns instead. Yeek! One of the guns went off when it was dropped, but nothing was harmed (except of course for those children's love of OUR LORD JESUS). Ironically (or is it?), the city where this went down (Flint, MI) happens to be not only the birthplace of gunnut activist Michael Moore but also one of the prime targets in Moore's scathing anti-violence screed Bowling for Columbine. Wire reports say the children were easily calmed down and don't seem particularly affected by the sight of the guns, concerning themselves more with the giant Easter baskets the police department gave them as consolation—baskets their parents will have to pry FROM THEIR COLD, DEAD HANDS.

In other horrifyingly ironic news, Clear Channel has dropped Howard Stern for being too indecent, while continuing to aggressively promote Rush Limbaugh's misogynistic, homophobic, anti-American roid rages against fags, libruls, feminazis, pinkos, towelheads, etc. Thankfully, the drop doesn't hurt Howard much as he is mostly broadcast via a little indie pirate radio station called Viacom. And wait, it's not really ironic or surprising at all, given that Clear Channel is actually the official mouthpiece of the Bush administration and the butt-boy of the the newly prudish FCC (whose high fines of Howard's show prompted his dismissal). The Howard Stern news comes soon after Victoria's Secret (which is owned by Express/Bath & Body Works, who knew?) announced that their fear of similar FCC fines has caused them to cancel their annual televised fashion show. The sexed-up Victoria's Secret striptease "fashion" show has aired for the past few years with no problems on CBS, which also broadcast this year's nippletastic Superbowl. CBS president Les Moonves issued an official statement about the cancellation: "The CBS family is deeply saddened by this news, especially Ray Romano. We here at CBS feel that the exposed breasts of white women like Heidi Klum and Gisele BĂĽnchen are beautiful things that should be shown repeatedly on TV and shared with all the little children of the world; a one-second flash of the semi-exposed breast of a filthy negress like Janet Jackson is a totally different other nasty thing and should immediately be censored."

Right, so those who still aren't over that whole Janet Jackson controversy marketing ploy should head over to the always-enjoyable Smoking Gun site, which posted 16 actual emails sent to the FCC about the Superbowl. There are some real winners in here, America: one person encourages the FCC to "pull the pine cone out of your collective butts"; another thanks them for "supporting the superiority of men. Only men should be allowed to bear [sic] their chests on American television"; another cautions that "I am not a finatic [sic] but I do fear THE WRATH OF GOD if our country continues its moral decline"; this one pretty much sums up most people's feelings about the issue; a creative type forwards an email meant for MTV's show-planning committee that states "I look forward to next year, with Dr. Ruth leading a discussion on group sex and Madonna humping a football" [ed. note: HOT!!!]. But the punchline comes courtesy of a horribly offended former strip club and XXX website owner: "exposing a breast on national TV is bad enough, but to flash a fake breast adds insult to injury." Ha!

Hey, since it seems like we're all in a censorship mood these days, I'd like to take a moment to channel my own Michael Powell and talk about things I would ban if my father were Secretary of State I ran the FCC. Sure, I'd outlaw homophobes and other hate speech and terrorist speech and Atkins Diet speech and all that offensive stuff. But first I would mobilize the armed forces to enforce the popular annual banished words list: "LOL" and "bling" definitely need to die, and thankfully "metrosexual" seems to have done so already (now if only metrosexuals themselves would do the same). I would also demand higher standards of decency from fast food companies, meaning In-N-Out Burger could no longer print Bible verses on their food, and all chains would be forced to use anti-fast food songs by The Shins in their commercials, just like McDonald's did. The only naughty thing I would allow would be Burger King's amazing AMAZING AMAZING! Subservient Chicken (a play on BK's "Have It Your Way" campaign); the "chicken" is actually a kinky dude in a chicken suit that does whatever you tell him to do, from flapping around in his living room to grabbing his crotch like Michael Jackson. Go play with him now, and don't forget to consult Boing Boing about getting him to do the real nasty shit!

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