small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: <strong>Parents Television Council </strong>

Tuesday, November 30

Parents Television Council


I used to like pro wrestling a lot, I watched that shit every chance I got and I even knew all the wrestlers names and shit. It was fun watching men and women beat the crap out of each in the ring. It was fun listing to the wrestlers talk shit on each other and scream at the fans sitting ringside. In my mind I saw it for what it was, good clean harmless fun. And you wanna know why? Nobody got hurt. Aside from the rare blown move, wrestlers at the end of the day would most likely leave the arena on their own two feet. And call it what you want, fake, staged, sports entertainment, whatever, it’s ok, cause in the end nobody’s really hurt and we were all in on the same joke. And this leads to boxing, which bothers me on a lot of levels. I guess because I know what it takes to knock another human unconscious. To knock another boxer out, you need to hit them so fucking hard in the head that the brain actually slams against the inside of your shittin skull. Or have something done to you so wrong that the pain receptors in your brain pop on so hard you pass out. And that bothers me. Punch-drunk is just a cute term for brain damaged. So when I see a boxer getting punched in the side of the head and he slams into the mat face first, it fucks with me cause I know that’s a legit hurt. But when I see a wrestler getting dropkicked in the mush I think what a great move, cause in the back of my head I know that the dropkick was choreographed with the finesse of a ballet and nobody’s really hurt. But you got these fucking holy-roller censorship groups like the Parents Television Council condemning pro wrestling. They say it’s bad and that wrestling exploits women and kids. And this is just one example of the shit these muthafuckers put out. Like SpongeBob Square Pants is gay or that South Park is leading little kids stright to hell. To think that these cockless, spavined-legged, smelly crotch, eunuch, muthafuckers really believe that they’ve got the right to tell me what I should and shouldn’t watch or read? Well fuck them in their pious assholes.
I'm not gonna sit here and say that what’s right for me is right for the next person or visa-versa, but that’s my fucking call not theirs. We all know there’s shit on the fuckin TV that isn’t for fuckin everybody. As well as certain books and shit like that, hell I wouldn’t want your kids reading this blogsite because I know that the shit I say isn’t fit for certain adults much less kids. But the way I see it the only censorship that should be allowed is parental. I don’t need the fuckin so-called Parents Television Council telling me what to watch or read. I don’t need the government telling me what to watch or read. And I don’t need some prissy bitch with a puckered overly lipsticked mouth shaped like a cat’s asshole (thank you for that one mr. goldfish) and her fuckin committee telling me shit either. You know, this is how shit starts. Some talky cocksucker rolls up and starts preaching about the sins of television and what’s playing at the movies. Then they want to control what books the library can or can’t carry. And, oh yeah, then it’s the music, like that evil fucking rock music or the sexually explicit lyrics those crack smoking rappers are chanting about. Which if a muthafucker must know, hasn't really changed much over the years. What, you bitches think that stinkin Elvis was all puppies and kittens and shit. Or have you every listened closely to the lyrics of your parents music or their grandparents? It all held the same amount of getting high or fuckin as ours, ole Bing just had different ways of saying it. That fucking asshole Hitler was all about censorship and look at the evil shit he got started. Leave the fucking censoring to the parents. Not to some faceless corporate group who think they know my FUCKING life better then I do.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

1 Comments:

Blogger Jessica said...

Yay, comments are working for me again. So, two things...first: I did an internship with the WWE back when it was the WWF, when I was in college. I worked in the creative department which pitches and plans out storylines for the wrestlers. The "talent" was heavily involved in that, and did then, and I imagine still do, work those lines heavily. I got to see many training sessions and practices, and what I did see, was that when there was a mishap, or accident, just about everyone on the scene was not only horrified but affected. It was very much like a dance troupe in the way that they looked out for one another and took great care to work hard on their stunts and their characters. And aside from a few choice assholes, most of them were nice too.

Second...because I couldn't post it before. I used to have this t-shirt (this post refers to your previous post about saving your friends who're drinking at the bar from going home with the wrong person, etc.), anyway, this t-shirt had Calvin and Hobbes on it, remember them? Calvin was clearly smashed and leering at Suzy...Hobbes was leading him away...and the caption was "Friends don't let Friends Beer-goggle" And you made me think of that.

2:01 PM  

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