“In every school there are the cool and popular kids, and then there are the not-so-cool kids,” he told the site. “Candidly, we go after the cool kids. We go after the attractive all-American kid with a great attitude and a lot of friends. A lot of people don’t belong [in our clothes], and they can’t belong. Are we exclusionary? Absolutely. Those companies that are in trouble are trying to target everybody: young, old, fat, skinny. But then you become totally vanilla. You don’t alienate anybody, but you don’t excite anybody, either,” he said.”
People on the Internets and on the tee vee are awfully hot about this and I’m not quite sure why. Yes, he’s a douchebag, that’s easy to see.
But the rest–meh. So? Who cares? So, he wants “hot” people to wear his clothing, and he offended chunky folks in the same statement.
Yeaaaah…I’m still on “So? Who cares?”
Look folks, there are plenty of other clothing options out there to choose from.
Tons.
I don’t see what the big deal is about wearing a brand that NO ONE over the age of 28 should wear. Seriously–if you’re still wearing A&F clothing over that age it proves you’re trying waaaaay too hard, paying waaaaay too much for poorly made rags and you’re clearly lacking in the imagination department.
Also, it’s his company, he can do with it what he wishes. If he wants to alienate a large (and steadily growing) segment of the population, then, that’s all on him. More power to him.
What’s really sad is that folks are offended by the words of businessman who appears to have the emotional intellect of a pre-moisty, pimply high schooler who probably drives a rape van, and who won’t answer the phone unless he’s wearing makeup.
Melissa sent me this earlier today with the following note: “We could create something like that!”
(courtesy Anthropologie.com)
Ahhhh…Sweet Melissa, no we could not. No. In fact, I couldn’t give you a bigger NO on this one, dearest.
Seriously. If George Clooney showed up allllll nekkid at my skeezy apartment wearing ONLY THIS FUGLY AS FUCK “THING”, I’d have to kick the living shit out him for having such horrid taste. See, my three readers, that speaks volumes because in my sass-n-bitchified opinion, the Cloonster is about as hot as a man can possibly be.
Look–here’s some proof of the above statement–
(Courtesy Tailgate365.com)
Enough of the handsome man diversion and back to WHY we don’t do crap. Where was I? Oh, right…here..yeah…right THERE…yeah..that’s it..ooohh…yessss… a little to the left … yeah, you hit it…
Yeah..you WISH.
You know why? Because we can’t, don’t and won’t create crap. I’m not into making crap like this because it goes against every fiber of my McCrabass being. I know, I know…considering some of the stuff I’ve created on this here blog, creating this type of crap would probably be a step up for me. Ha! Y’all are the apex of clever, my monosyllabic critics. Gag me with $500 worth of crap.
Of course, someone or someTHING needs to be blamed for this circle of wire, rope, prayers and crap: Insecure broads with too much cash and little to no taste, and the crafting industry andplaces the promote crafty-crap like Pinterestand Etsy.
Crafters of the world, I have a message for you: Cut it out. Yes, Stop making crafts.
Why?
Because you SUCK at it. You SUCK OUT LOUD at it. No one wants to see it, feel it, love it, ooh & aaah over it, or buy it. They’re just being nice to you because, once upon a time, you were some sort of high-falutin’ exec with an expense account who heard via some oracle like Oprah that it’s ok to follow your dreams.
So you quit your day job, went to Bali for “inspiration”, bought some stencils, a glue gun, oddly colored feathers, and some vintage cashmere sweaters and decided to repurpose your life. Then, your life went down the shitter quick because even your family of hamfatters couldn’t fake liking your craptacular creations anymore, demanded that you get over it and for the love of PETE, get your fucking job back! But nooo…you didn’t listen because you’re following your dreams! Now because of your dreams, your husband is schtupping his assistant AND for good measure, her husband too. Oh and your kids, god love ‘em, have followed in your footsteps in a way ,and are cooking meth in the trunks of their cars for lunch money and to pay for things like Girl Scouts.
2012 will be noted in the record books as one of the choadiest years ever. Why oh why would you make such a proclamation, Julia? Not only did we have one of the oddestyears in human behavior, but the election shenanigans put the ‘crap’ in craptastic choadiness.
2012 was ugly from day one and it just got uglier and uglier as the year progressed– especially in the political arena. Needless to say, the folks on the following list not only embarrassed us the world over, but they sure did a bang-up job of making the human race look like a big pile of chunk-filled dung. (Note: John Boehner, Rush Limbaugh, Eric Cantor, Mitch McConnell, Bill O’Reilly, Hannity, Newt and the NRA are already in the Choad Hall of Fame, so mentioning them here would be redundant.) The vetting process was brutal and I know I’m missing some choads, but I’m sure they’ll be on my 2013 list.
So, without further adieu and in no particular order, I present to you–my loyal three readers–Your Year in Choads.
The Donald.
(courtesy of examiner.com)
The thrice-married Trump never ceases to amaze me. He inherited millions from his father, then felt the need to continue to dumb down society with his tee vee shows and tomes. He has even sullied my city with a multi-floor steel phallus with great views, and overpriced units. That was a Trump I could live with–out of my league financially and matrimonily–but I never bought into his bullshit so ignoring him wasn’t a chore at all. However, he had to go and ruin it for me and everyone else by opening his fat yap about how the President isn’t a citizen and how the country was robbed during the election (even though Obama won the popular vote) with a series of ill-timed and uber-choady Tweets–which he promptly deleted. Oh and early in the campaign, he was actually a candidate. But, never fear, Trump will be back in 2013, and will be a bigger choad than Donald Trump. Notice how I didn’t even mention his hair?
Sheldon Adelson.
If Citizens United had a dick, Sheldon Adelson should be giving it blowies all the live long day as a thank-you gift. Yeah, I know. I have that image in my mental Rolodex too and I have no idea how to get it out of there. A brain transplant may turn out to be the way to go, and I’d be happy with an Abby Normal-esque brain at this point. The good thing is, Adelson’s attempts to buy the election failed the way the uterus supposedly does when raped legitimately. Ahem. Imagine the good Adelson coulda done with that money had he done something useful, like for instance, help his beloved Israel build a better defense system.
And speaking of legitimate rape, there’s Todd Akin.
I’ll let the magical combo of video and the Internets speak for Mr. Akin (who lost in November–big time–by the way). Akin’s advisers, the “doctors” who told him about how the female body “works”, anyone who has ever hung out with or believed in Akin, well, y’all are choads too.
Nikki Haley
Choads are not limited to men, my friends. Nooo…never. Not only did Gov. Haley NOT consider Stephen Colbert for Jim DeMint’s now-vacate Senate seat, she doesn’t want nuthin’ to do with Obamacare even though her state, South Carolina, is desperate for the help. Like Haley’s fellow GOP governors, she’d prefer to pout and eat worms in the garden because the smart, black guy won AGAIN, and now his monumental, life-saving legislation is truly the law of the land. Basically, she’d rather fuck over her constituents to make a point than help them. That horrid attitude makes her one of the Choads of the Year.
Richard Mourdock.
“Even if life begins in that horrible situation of rape, that is something that God intended to happen.”
What’s even more amazing is some woman finds him fuckable.
Personhood Amendments/He-Man Woman Hater’s Club.
It’s safe to say the today’s GOP don’t like us ladyfolk very much. That hatred was evident in the candidatestheynominated and the legislation/ballot initiatives that so many states tried to pass, or get on the ballots. Then, there was the kerfuffle over the transnatch ultrasound bill requiring all women in Virginia who wanted an abortion to have this lubed-up wand stuck up their hoo-hahs so they can see what’s dancing on their bladders. The best part? Women have to pay for this humiliation out of their own pockets because Lord knows the GOP doesn’t want to pay for it–hell, they’d rather protect guns than people, see. There are so many anti-woman stories that happened this year that writing about them would cause me to start biting my face again.
But, this vidya demonstrates just how choad-a-rrific this man of god really is.
Jan Brewer
(courtesy ABC News)
The weathered, ridden-hard-and-put-away-wet governor of Arizona is the greatest of all lady choads. She loathes people of color, has a pointy-anointy claw that she likes to point at the POTUS; loves guns; probably has nudie pix of Sheriff Joe Arpaio; allegedly shits Coppertone; kicks puppies; has a law that says all bleeding women are pregnant; is considering running for a third term; more than likely believes in Henrietta Pussycat but not climate change; and finally, contrary to popular belief, did NOT star in “There’s Something About Mary.”
I’m not here to write about politics because I just got out of my padded cell due to good behavior, and writing about the cacophony that is our Legislative Branch would send me right back to face-biting territory.
Who knew that Newton Minow‘s words he uttered back in the 60s would still resonate today? Was Minow clairvoyant enough to realize that reality tee vee would be the beginning of the end for society? Is he in cahoots with those wascally Mayans?
I believe he is and I present to you a few examples of the modern-day “vast wasteland.”
“Neat Freaks” coming soon to TLC. I watched an episode of this show and it made me want to never, ever clean anything ever again. Ever. Nope. Not gonna. What it did make me was very sad. The people featured have serious issues with, well, everything. My fave was the personal trainer who told a prospective love interest that he would spray her body with hydrogen peroxide before they got “intimate.” Seriously–I’d leave both kinds of skid marks getting away from that loon.
“Amish Mafia” hasn’t aired yet, but will debut on Dec. 12th, and I can’t wait.
Hmm..something about having a Don named “Lebanon Levi” doesn’t exactly strike the fear of God into me. The Moses beard and woolen socks aren’t the same as lizard skin loafers, pinky rings stacked on stubby digits and having several severed heads in bowling bags. To me, he’s the farm community tough you call when you discover that the shady farrier didn’t put enough nails in Stumblebum’s shoes and he needs to be taught a lesson with a rasp. There’s Levi’s right hand guy, Alvin the Chipmunk who’s the muscle. Oh and the Henry Hill (not Sicilian) of the group, Jolin (Mennonite) carries about punishments willy-nilly since he’s not pure Amish and therefore, not subject to their laws.
I’ll be tuning in to see just how tough this Mafia is, but if there isn’t at least one killing over some barn raising shenanigans then I’m done.
What the entire fuck? I couldn’t get past the beards and the idea that they smell like a combo platter of animal guts, chew, dirty/diseased pussy, moonshine and wood smoke.
Shows like “Duck Dynasty” tell me that tee vee development execs have given up on ever producing anything worthwhile because the American public learned years ago to eat the shitwe’re given politely with a knife and fork. All of the good stuff is on cable anyway … hey… wait .. a damn..minute…
I remember reading something once upon a time as to why shows like the ones listed above are so popular–people can relate to the folks featured. Really? You can relate to people who are third-rate philosophers, sex tape producers and are afraid of what happens when you mix soap and water together? Oh Moses smell the duck-gut soaked roses folks, it’s reprogramming time!
Oh and these shows are super cheap to produce, plus there are some folks walking among the intelligent who believe the whole 15 Minutes of Fame rumor. Sadly, these folks are tee vee execs who have the creativity of a car battery.
Finally, for those of you who are mourning the impending doom of “The Jersey Shore”, you have this to look forward to.
Basically, MTV took the spooge/cheap liquor/tanning oil-soaked cast and rednecked ‘em up a scosch and plopped them down in the middle of the set of Deliverance 2.0. but this time with inbreeding, moonshine, ATVs, dorks and illiteracy. Talk about a huge shit sandwich. Perhaps MTV should changed its name to Shit TV since they no longer play music vidyas. Knowing how the viewing public is, “Buck Wild” is sure to be a huge hit.
The gal with the mostest moxy on WordPress, Madame Weebles, had a great post earlier this week. So, whilst I was getting my sweat on during Bikram, I decided to answer the call of this siren and play along.
I blow donk at the following:
Not holding my tongue (shut up, pervs). Now, a little history about yours truly here. I’m a WASP (doormat) and with that pedigree comes learning how to make good conversatin’ at a wee age, a wicked sense of humor, a good edumacation and the ability to hold a lot of liquor and still be a McCrabass.
In other words, I’m a youngish Ouiser Boudreaux.
I wish.
However, when I was younger, the rule was to not talk about yourself (doing so was considered selfish), be polite and not ruffle any feathers (once again=doormat) regardless of what was being uttered to ruffle said feathers. Same goes for the utterer….right. Be polite to that person, then rip them to shreds when you’re with the fam. As I’ve aged, I’ve switched those two rules. Simply put, I don’t suffer fools lightly–and it shows. Now, I don’t immediately jump down someone’s gullet when they start spewing stupid, but I do when what has been said is either a right-out falsehood or an insult to me or mine. When I do say something, it’s usually quick and sharp, and has been known to harbor a certain amount of acidity that was part of my kind and genteel demeanor a few years ago. This is where I get into trouble–and lots of it. But changing my ways would be bad to my mental health so I’ve learned how to take what I dish out at a relatively early age.
My laziness when it comes to taking care of myself. I’m a lazy ass–I just am. I eat well, but if no food is in sight, I won’t eat. I’ll just think about food and hope that it’ll magically appear. On the plus side, I do Bikram yoga, go for long walks and drink copious amounts of water — and that’s about it aside from the occasional box of wine and trough of chocolate.
I can’t play basketball — at all. I’m turrible, turrible at it. What’s real odd is I believe that I should be good at it–why? I grew up playing tennis, riding to the hounds and plunging off of 3 meter springboards at break-neck speeds–where does basketball fit in?
Tally ho!
I don’t even like basketball all that much–same goes for baseball–come to think of it. The sight of me attempting to play can cause blindness so I don’t even try anymore because I do care about my fellow citizens that much.
Even Stanley is better than I am.
Being employed. I’ve been job-free for almost 2 years now and have no idea as to why I’m still not working, and find it odd that I’m persona non grata in the Chicago media world. I don’t want to talk about it though.
Overthinking. Being too cerebral. Too much in my head. This horrid habit tends to paralyze me at times. Instead of just “going for it”, I sit back and think of every possible thing that could go wrong AND right! Then, by the time I decide to go for it, the moment is gone and then there I am–holding my limp dick, or a limp dick. Depends on the situation I guess.
This next one may come as a shock, but I’m not all sweetness & light. I’m a born cynic. I see pictures of fluffy kittehs, puppehs and other woodland creatures, and do they warm the deep, dark parts of my soul? Nah. In fact, they fill me with dread because I know those critters are being pimped out for their cuteness but will soon be put back in some horrid basement or animal shelter somewheres because folks are too fucking stoopid/macho to get their animals fixed. Those animals never had a shot, see, and that sucks.
Pretending to like popular music–both new and old. I can’t stand 90 percent of the music that’s out today. It’s just pure horror produced by no talent shitstains who got lucky–or had someone killed so they could succeed. Same goes for old(er) stuff like Paul McCartney & Wings, Elvis Presley, Edie Brickell, U2, Tracy Chapman, John Mayer, DMB — I could go on and on, but I don’t want this bad juju on my blog. Plus, I wanna see the comments flow in about my audacity of not liking someone’s precious U2 or DMB.
So, to the 3 readers of this blog, what do you absolutely suck at?
Do I really need to give a flying fuck/fiddler’s fart/red rat’s ass about these two people? I don’t think I do but all of social media is screaming that I need to make their overvalued lives my moral imperative.
Seriously people, if you’re soooo obsessed about the love life of two pre-moisties who happen to be talentless hacks, then you need to either up the voltage or start drinking heavily–OR BOTH.
