Before you read the next two pieces, please keep in mind that I am, and always have been a social liberal. But unlike my conservative counterparts, I understand that affiliation gives me specific license to call out my own ilk whenever they misbehave. And let me tell you, a whole lot of liberals are gonna get a stocking full of coal this Christmas.
Please consider that vast Trumpian irony!
Baby it’s dumb outside
Just when I thought the rightwingnuts had the 2018 Snowflake Outrage Award trophy all sewn up, with just 20 days to go, liberals swooped in and took it right back.
If you recall, in late November, I presented conservatives with that not-so-highly-coveted award after they came down with a collective case of the vapors over Democratic Illinois State Rep Stephanie Kifowit’s poor choice of a metaphor.
They somehow seem to miss the fact that the President makes similarly silly statements on a daily basis.
But liberals just couldn’t be happy with their good fortune and let it go, could they? Nope! They had to prove they’re even worse that those tea partiers by going after my favorite classic holiday song, ‘Baby it’s Cold Outside.’
Referring to it as the ‘Christmas date rape song,’ progressive Ohio women everywhere insisted that Cleveland’s WDOK forever relegate that scurrilous song to history’s dust bin. And the station caved faster than Michael Cohen might melt in front a grand jury.
Of course, that chicken bleep PC move incited a slew of other stations to hop on the banning bandwagon, because none of us can thing for ourselves anymore.
Liberals! What have I told you about trying to apply a 2018 morality to a 1944 song? Just like trying to objectively view Christopher Columbus through today’s eyes, it can’t be done. All that song does is capture 40’s flirting when young women were expected to issue the appropriate protests before giving in to young men.
“But maybe just a half a drink more,” “At least I’m gonna say that I tried,” and “But maybe just a cigarette more?” Clearly, our charming young woman is interested in our dashing young man, if for no other reason than she stopped by his apartment on a rather cold and snowy winter’s eve.
Some leftwingnuts tried to say she’d been attending a party hosted by her impending paramour, but that’s only because they refuse to acknowledge her complicity in the mutual seduction. There is absolutely no mention of a soiree anywhere to be found in those suddenly-infamous lyrics.
“But Jeff! What about that salacious, ‘Say, what’s in this drink?’ line? That’s clearly a Cosby reference!”
While Bill Cosby was certainly alive back then, he was but a scant seven-year-old boy who could only dream of drugging and raping women.
The truth is, “What’s in this drink” was the 40s equivalent of “hold my beer.” It’s something you said when you were about to engage in an act for which you wanted to minimize the social and moral consequences.
And as is always the case when the left or the right self-righteously gets something banned, it incites a more than equal and opposite reaction. Renewed interest in the song has sent sales soaring and requests for radio airplay have skyrocketed! Why, the listener outcry was so fierce that every single silly station that banned it brought it back.
Prohibition always works so well, doesn’t it?
Ain’t it funny, and deliciously ironic, that these same liberal women have no problem with the 1953 classic, ‘Santa Baby,’ in which a sultry young woman purrs about all the magnificent gifts her menagerie of suitors are about to rain down on her.
And c’mon! What do y’all think “Hurry down the chimney tonight” really means?
PETA strikes again!
People for Eating Tasty Animals…I mean People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals could’ve been in the running for this year’s Snowflake Outrage Trophy award, but those cow huggers always seem to make some sort of silly holiday statement just to get their name back in the news.
And if you mean to do it, it doesn’t count. Remember when they tried to get the town of Turkey, Texas, to change their name to Tofurky, Texas?
This time, they’re trying to tell the rest of us sane folks that old saws like “bringing home the bacon,” “taking the bull by the horns,” and “being the Guinea pig” are just as bad as any homophobic or racist rant.
“Just as it became unacceptable to use racist, homophobic, or ableist language, phrases that trivialize cruelty to animals will vanish as more people begin to appreciate animals for who they are and start ‘bringing home the bagels’ instead of the bacon,” PETA somehow Tweeted with a straight face.
Please give me a minute so I can finally stop laughing and pry myself up off my home-office floor.
I know we’re going long here, but I figured I could kill two birds with one stone by covering both stories. Now, while a bird in the hand is certainly better, after running around like a chicken with its head cut off, I finally got my ducks in a row, though getting to the column finish line can be a lot like herding cats.
Since I’m no deer in the headlights, despite being busy as a beaver, I stopped chasing my tail long enough to address the fact that PETA is just another batshit crazy liberal group, which makes going after them somewhat akin to shooting fish in a barrel.
But apparently, these birds of feather flocking together makes them sitting ducks for the kind of satirical response that means I’d never look this gift horse in the mouth. I don’t understand why PETA let this cat out of the bag because it only makes them seem pig-headed and that really gets my goat.
They really oughtta let sleeping dogs lie.
Trust me, I won’t count my chickens, but like lambs to the slaughter, I always appreciate how PETA goes whole hog into this kind of absurdity just like a bat out of hell. In fact, I’ve been trying to tell them to stop putting the cart before the horse, but my wisdom always seems to fall like pearls before swine.
Apparently, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.
I realize PETA has long-since jumped the shark and they won’t change their leopard-like spots even if hell gets cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey, so why beat a dead horse?
You seriously can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a liberal with too much time on their hands and too many bats in their belfry these days.