Fat, it’s unattractive on woman ladies. On men folk of course it’s distinguished and rugged, esteemed and electable. Lady people are not allowed to have any of it. Not if I had my way at least! Women are supposed to be sleek, lithe and petite, like tiny baby jungle cats that you want to penetrate with your turgid man utensil. If you’re a girl person with swollen fat cells you might as well call yourself a man with the wrong set of groin luggage!
So you’ll bet your god damned love handles that I was super stoked and all kinds of other degrees of stoked when I heard the news that U.S. health advisers recommended the approval of “Qnexa”, a new obesity drug that could be hitting the big fat lady waists of these great United American States soon. And I say that this damned thing couldn’t come a second too soon, just LOOK at the beasts that Levi’s is throwing around in their latest pants advertisements, or as I prefer to call them, “pantsvertisements”.
Oh god! I just threw up all over the inside of my pants!
No. You are wrong Levi’s! Hotness comes in only a single size, “minuscule”. Anyone wearing any size that is a positive integer makes me want to feed them fish heads from a fucking bucket!
Fortunately monsters like these will soon be a thing of the past thanks to the fine people at Vivus and their MIRACLE pill Qnexa.
“Disgusting Fatness” as it is referred to in modern medical journals is, as you know, a very serious and very real medical condition. People can’t help that they’re food inhaling land beasts, it’s a medical science problem that can only be solved through the liberal application of pharmaceuticals. There are simply no two ways about it. I mean, if not being fat were as simple as, say, controlling how often your face ports are crammed with creamy delights, or, I don’t know, moving in ways more strenuous than lifting a cheese covered hand to your face and dangling it there until the gooey curds drip into your slobbery waiting hole, then no one would be suffering from clinical disgusting, would they?
So fat is uncontrollable by any sort of personal responsibility means, that much we’ve established and it’s a real life medical condition. Science fact. So finally we have a solution to our completely out of our own hands gluttony: Qnexa. This gift from God’s own goody bag of heavenly solutions which he hoards from us until we have prayed hard enough about our hatred for gays, has been shown to help patients in their trials “lose at least 10 percent of their weight after a year of treatment.” And the only very minor, very negligible potential side effects are memory loss, higher heart rates and a 40 percent increase risk of birth defects. A small price to pay I think we would all agree, to ever be desirable to anyone ever again.
“I would say not treating obesity is not risk neutral.” Dr. Susan Yanovski, a member of the advisory panel that voted to recommend Qnexa said. “We have fer treatments for obesity for those who don’t respond to lifestyle treatments.”
Yes, what is to be done for those obese Americans (I’m lookin’ at 1/3 of you America) who simply do not respond to “lifestyle treatments”? Who is thinking of those lazy sloth monsters who do not “respond” to “lifestyle treatments”? Eating less? Exercise? What if my body does not respond to those treatments in that I can not make myself stop eating or start moving because I just don’t wanna?
Well apparently the answer Levi’s has is just stuff ’em in a denim sausage casing and call it a day!
Last week there was an uproar concerning the jean company’s new ad campaign promoting their Curve ID line of pant products, or as I am often known to call them, pantducts… I didn’t understand what the uproar was about having not seen the campaign, but like any good, concerned American citizen, that didn’t stop me from being OUTRAGED about what I was told I should be outraged about. “Details” and “facts” are for readers and stuck up elite know it alls who like to know all of things. But then, when I DID finally see this campaign I was outraged for a whole new set of reasons, not the least of which was people making me outraged on the side of outrage that I would not have taken if I had known what to properly be outraged about!
It seems “ladies” who are advertised to would like things to actually reflect real life definitions of things. Well I’m sorry “ladies”, but there’s a reason there is an unrealistic standard set by magazines about fashion and magazines about magazines about fashion, it’s because that’s what the mens likes ta see! “That doesn’t make sense” you might be whining through your spoon full of Hagen Daz. Of course it doesn’t. Who said it should? Probably a girl!
What you don’t seem to understand is that the women and gay men who write these publications and set these standards know that a wire thin, sickly, fraction of the human form is what gets the man folk all worked up. I don’t make the rules, the gays do. So when Levi’s says that “hotness comes in all shapes and sizes” they don’t mean YOUR shape and size, don’t be ridiculous, you are repulsive, you should never take any form of pride in your outward appearance and you should constantly strive to look as much like these fictitious ideals of female proportion or you will never be happy. Are you new?
So it’s just a good thing that someone has heard your cry, reverberating in your wine glass, and delivered unto you a solution. A solution that will make your chest vibrate like a humming bird, cause two fifths of any of the children you manage to deliver to come out looking like a carnival break room and leave you without any memory of your former grotesque self, ten disgusting percent heavier.
You’re welcome girls.
We live in an amazing, Technicolor, sci-fi world. A world where you can almost literally be anything you want. I mean, you can’t actually be, say, a cat or a polar bear. But you can dress up like them and fuck other people dressed up like zebras and mice, which is basically all you would want out of that kind of life anyway. So, no, you can’t actually be anything you want, modern science hasn’t quite gotten us THAT far, but say you’re a woman and you don’t like that, you can be a man. Then say, you’re a man now, but you want to be a mommy. “Tough shit” you say? “You made your penis and now you have to lie on it!” Well that’s where you’re wrong gender Nazi! Now you can have your masculinity and your mother’s day too!
Wait, follow me here: A man in England, who was a woman in England is now a mom… dad… in England.
Why is this news I hear you asking? People push smaller people out of the appropriate organs every day, what makes this special? Well I’ll tell you. It’s a freak! Look and point at the freak thing doing a freak thing that makes us uncomfortable! Any time anyone different does something normal, people shit their pants.
What grabs the attention initially is “Man has baby” which is not true. A man did not have a baby. Let’s get that straight. A woman, now identifying them self as a man after surgeries and hormone treatments, who looks very much like a human man as long as he’s wearing pants but who still possesses working lady innards, had a baby. Now I’m not saying that he isn’t a man now or maybe wasn’t all his life and now just externally matches the person he was all along internally. What I’m saying is that this is not a person born a man, with male baby making mechanics, giving birth to a child. This is a biological woman with all of the inner workings as such, doing what those things do. So cut it out with “Man Has Baby! Holy Fuck!”… You’re not helping.
But even then, that’s STILL not the real reason anyone is taking notice of this. It grabs the attention sure, but once someone reads “man with left over lady parts” they understand that a miracle has not occurred. And maybe that’s part of the problem. Maybe it would be better if it WERE miraculous. ‘Cause there’s no other reason that the news that somebody with the appropriate parts (the very same that God done gived ’em to make it possible) having a baby should be a big thing to anyone, except of course, you know; God.
It seems, for an all knowing, all powerful, omnipotent creator of everything everywhere ever, this “God” fellah sure seems to get his mighty will gone against an awful lot. Fortunately there are plenty of defenders of this flimsy excuse for a deity ready to call these disgusting perverts who have had babies the way they were designed to, monsters who have destroyed any chance of happiness for the people they just made.
“We have to sit up and consider these things,” Busy body, Josephine Quintavalle, of ‘Comment on Reproductive Ethics’ said when no one asked. “I don’t think it is in the interests of the child to distort nature this way. We are prepared to do anything possible to fulfill the rights of the adult. But I think it is at the expense and rights and welfare of the child.”
She went on to say that “there needs to be a proper inquiry in to the issues surrounding these births.”
To which I can’t help but wonder: why?
A person with ovaries walks into a doctor’s office and asks for help in creating another human being who may or may not also own a set of ovaries, depending on the whimsical fancy of an invisible sky grandpa. The doctor gives the womb owner magic lady juices to make their parts more baby ready. Some time later, usually a couple score months and then some, VIOLA! Baby!
What makes one baby maker less ethically acceptable than another? A beard? Because a good amount of lady ladies have facial hair problems, this one just seems to be more comfortable with it. What makes the soft, smooth mother with fertility assistance more fit to mother than the gruff, less traditional mother? If this man woman had perhaps had a dozen children and a reality show, would the ethics then be less of a sticky wicket?
Trevor Stammers, director of medical ethics at St Mary’s University College, London, said: “You are hardly going to end up with a baby that’s going to have a happy, productive and optimal childhood.”
Now you’re just being a dick Trevor Stammers, director of medical ethics at St. Mary’s University College, London. And I fucking assume it’s a college if it has “University” in the name you redundant cunt.
What “Mr.” Stammers is saying, is that this horrible, selfish person, who bore this child solely to mock creation and “Mr.” Stammers’ basic belief system, has damned this child to an unhappy, unproductive, unoptimal childhood. Because this person decided that they more associated with manliness than ladyliness, but still wanted to have a child with the equipment that they were given, they are somehow unfit to raise a child in anything but a hellish state of Godless confusion.
OR, Mr. Stammers is a fucking hateful douche who’s own carefully shaped world view, molded by a pretty mommy with boobies and makeup, is a living example that how frilly your mom is don’t really dictate your potential future seething unhappiness.
Love is love people. And doesn’t it stand to reason that someone who loves them self more due to choices they’ve made to re-shape their lives, will likely be able to bestow upon their child a pretty solid level of unreserved love. It seems a family with this sort of base will likely be hindered less by judgement and shame, except of course for all of the judgement and shame heaped upon them by the outside world who’s been taught by good, wholesome families to judge and shame.
Read your own books folks. This flawless lord of yours told you to love. That message seems to be pushed aside by your searching out reasons where you think your book tells you to hate and justifications for why you do. But I’ll take a thousand dickless dads over a single nuclear family that says man mom is wrong to bring a child into the world because his life choice makes them feel icky.
Porn. It’s naughty, it’s fun, it’s my best friend on a late, lonely Wednesday night whilst sadly looking through yearbooks of all the friends I never had and all the empty pages without signatures and cool sayings like “Stay Cool this Summer”. Play, pause, fast forward, oh wait, yeah, just like that, pause, on your FACE! You like that don’t you ??!!
Porn. My real pretend friends who never let me down and are there when I need them. Men and women of all ethnicities and statures, making me feel like I’m part of their hot threesomes, nun exploitation, and lesbian trists in a locker room, while at the same time making me feel small and stamina-deprived, but they don’t judge.
Porn. No rules, do who you want, how you want, when you want, where you want. Midgets, horses, bound in leather, wearing costumes, on your back, in your back, bare back, shack a lack. Except for now … there is a rule, a NEW rule.
Condoms. Necessary. MANDATORY !!
Here’s all the verby verbage … The “Safer Sex In The Adult Film Industry Act” would require “any person or entity directly engaged in the creation of adult films who is issued a permit” to “maintain engineering and work practice controls, including the provision of and required use of condoms, sufficient to protect employees from exposure to blood or other potentially infectious materials consistent with state law.” This was laid out by the city council of Los Angeles City stating that all that above nonsense has to be done if filming within the city. Whatever the fuck that means. And where do I get a permit? I’d like a permit.
It’s quite apparent that these “people” who “voted” and made this into a law have never seen porn where the dude is wearing a condom. It’s horrible! How much feeling do you think he’s really experiencing? None. And what if the receiver has a latex allergy? HMMMMM? Think how depressed these actors are going to become. Where is the fun in waking up, heading to work and knowing you’re gonna have boring old condom sex? Nowhere, that’s where. That’s like asking a Starbuck’s employee to come to work but not being able to drink any of the coffee, asking a dentist to show up to put in a cavity but not getting to use a drill, or worse, taking away a lawyers ability to sue !!
Come on LA, give the porner’s a break. Let them hump away the way they were meant to, naked and slippery. Nobody wants to see a lite green sheathed pecker goin’ in and out of anything, it’s just wrong. What’s next? You gonna pass a law mandating that porn stars get married before they film?
This week has been an uneven one for those who like to party first and deal with party related consequences eventually. We at Van Full of Candy are known to be fans of both “Party” and “Consequences”. The first is fun, the second is hilarious and the combination of the two is often hilariously fun. That is, as long as those hilarious consequences of party are being felt by others. The amount of fun and hilarity one experiences as a result of party consequences is in direct relation to exactly how much it effects you personally. Party Fact.
First, Wednesday, Party People who like to put their Party Parts in the parts of other Party People got the bad news that the Plan B Party Pill was going to have to stay behind the pharmacy counter. The FDA had ruled that anybody who had $50 and a need to unhappen a late night baby could pick up the pill in their local anywhere without having to let the Pharmacist know how much they like to Party. But “Health and Human Services Secretary Kathleen Sebelius”, thinking of course, of the children, decided that it was best to avoid the impulse buy madness that allowing just anyone to toss a couple de-preggers in your basket would most certainly cause, you know, because it’s best to stock up for those times when you just don’t want to pull on one of those Pesky Pecker Party Ponchos.
I can naturally understand the Human Services Lady’s point of view. Sebelius’ concern was apparently that “girls as young as 11 are physically capable of bearing children and Plan B’s makers didn’t prove that younger girls could properly understand how to use this product without guidance from an adult”. Completely fair and rational and understandable. Eleven year olds like to party. Party Fact. Also a fact, all over the counter drugs that can be harmful to children without proper guidance from an adult must be proven to be properly understandable to eleven year old girls before it can be sold to the public. Never mind that the use of this product, a pill, is covered by one of humanities most basic function, the “forward swallow”, or that said pill can in no way do any sort of damage what so ever to a tween whether taken properly or improperly (unless I guess, ingested into the brain stem through a child’s blow hole perhaps), the fact that the product does not explicitly explain that fact is apparently tragically unsafe and worthy of keeping it off of shelves.
Party People 17 and older that want to exterminate impending womb vermin can still do so without prescription, as before, by simply telling the “doctor” behind the counter that she had a party in her pelvis and everyone was invited. Those under 17 will continue to need a prescription from their local clinic. Don’t mind the van parked outside with pictures of inside out fetus parts or all of the lovers of invisible sky persons calling you a whore, they’re just there to make sure you don’t let the next guy get away with saying that he can’t feel anything when stuffed in his Party Prophylactic. And hey, don’t worry if the doctor calls to inform your parents that you’ve just picked up a life unruiner pill, if one of ’em’s the reason you’re there, they’ll probably love to hear the news!
But fret not lovers of all things party! The FDA, yes, the same FDA that tried to let you decide for yourself whether or not you knew how to operate a pill properly, just today approved a drinky don’t hurt disk for mass consumption following a night of massive consumption. “Blowfish” an “Alka-Seltzer like tablet” is a hangover cure on its way to a non Plan B stocked store shelf near you!
No longer will you have to pay for your night of heavy drinking with head aches and tummy aches and mysterious muscle strains and bruises that you can not explain and continuously tell your friends not to explain. With its (not at all) patented combination of 1,000 milligrams of Aspirin, 120 milligrams of caffeine and an unspecified (in the article that I found this information at least, and I’ve used up all of my research coupons for the year) quantity of antacid, “Blowfish” is set to take a prominent place in Van Full of Candy’s Party Purse, which is actually a medicine bag that we bought at a gas station inside an Indian reservation that we were assured was not only blessed by the tribe’s shaman, but was very masculine and didn’t at all look weird for us to be wearing. This’ll fit in quite nicely with our embarassingly purchased Plan B pills and notarized consent forms. With a name like “Van Full of Candy” written authorization to consensually violate another human being sets a lot of minds at ease.
Now the “Blowfish” product didn’t actually NEED to be approved by the FDA since it’s “composed of ingredients already aveilable for over the counter sales”, but instead needed approval of its packaging.
“Like all drug packaging, it has a lot of warnings for people with certain conditions,” Brenna Haysom, creator of Blowfish said. “And pregnant women should not take it, but hopefully they don’t need to be taking it!”
An excellent point. Women who are pregnant shouldn’t take a fizzy pill with a cup of coffee’s worth of caffeine, because that would be bad. Oh, and naturally, as Brenna so wryly points out, tongue planted firmly in drunken cheek, pregnant women shouldn’t be NEEDING to take the product in the first place since it’s a hang over cure and as most Party Preggos know, they shouldn’t be drinking beer. It’ll make the baby too fun and charismatic.Party Fact.
So Party People, get out there and have a good time knowing that the consequences that need the most urgent attending to are covered. If bright lights and loud noises make your head an itty bitty bit ouchy, the FDA approved product that can help you will soon be at the 7-11 register next to the energy shots and scratchers. But if you get pregnant inadvertently or against your will, the FDA approved product that can help you will still be un-readily available to you because, you know, God.