Wednesday, June 25, 2014
The Passion of Kim Kardashian
A young artist from New York is making a name for herself by painting pictures of Kim Kardashian dressed up as the Virgin Mary, Jesus, and (for good measure) assorted she-devils.
"Kim Kardashian is God,” declared Hannah Kunkle, aged 23. “She's crazy, bodacious and has the nose job of an angel. I don't know if she's omniscient, but no one can deny she's omnipresent."
The acolytes of the Pope have not been shy to masquerade as art critics:
“The paintings are dumb and stupid,” said Father Michael Perry of Our Lady of Refuge Church. “Everyone knows who Kim Kardashian is and I don't care who she is. She has no impact on my life at all.”
John Gribowich, a seminarian with a degree in art history, offered a more considered judgement:
“Here she is as Christ, there she is as the Blessed Mother, and then there's a demonic image of her. I don't know how you can be all of those things. It doesn't make sense.”
The disgruntled Catholics have my sympathy on this occasion. Kim is not remotely credible as the Virgin Mary because her arse is too big, and I mean no insult to either of them by saying so. A virgin living in first-century Judea could not have acquired a Kardashian bubble-butt on a diet of pitta bread, hummus and the occasional olive. Hundreds of Big Macs and creamy milkshakes have given their lives to create that plump rump, which is a holy relic in its own right. Mixing up the iconography of different religions is a heinous sacrilege for which Hannah’s own behind should be spanked forthwith. I would do it myself if I lived in Brooklyn.
Portraying Kim as Jesus is equally absurd. Although no one can be sure what Christ looked like, the consensus of scholarly opinion is that he must have had a beard. The only men who shaved in the Roman Empire were Romans and eunuchs, and Jesus was neither. Given that Kim has electrocuted all her facial follicles, it is ludicrous to suggest she could pass herself off as Jesus. For this affront to common sense and decency, Hannah deserves a second spanking, delivered by the Pope himself.
On the other hand, depicting Kim as a demonic damsel is defensible. A succubus can take any form, so there’s no issue with appearance here. Furthermore, Kim is married to a man who resembles Satan in many respects, blessed as he is with a brawny chest and a goat-like sexual appetite. The she-devil pictures may not be high art, but they wouldn’t look out-of-place in a witches’ coven or the boudoir of a dominatrix.
After Hannah is spanked, the Pope should consider what action to take against the maker of a pop video which showed a partially-clothed couple kissing on the altar of a church:
“The behaviour in the video was a desecration of the church and caused most grievous distress to the parish priest,” a church statement said.
I bet did it, but the term “partially-clothed” is too vague to recommend a suitable penance. Which parts were clothed and which parts were showing?
Labels: Art, Big Bottom, big bum Kim Kardashian, church, sacrilege
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Prenatal nerves
The actress Mila Kunis is pregnant for the first time and anticipating the ordeal of childbirth with ill-disguised trepidation. She gave the following rebuke to expectant fathers on a late night talk show:
"Stop saying 'we're pregnant’. You're not pregnant! Do you have to squeeze a watermelon-sized person out of your lady-hole? No."
As for the father of her own child, she expects him to avert his eyes from horror show occurring between her legs when she gives birth:
“He'll be head to head, not head to vag,” she said. “I highly doubt he wants to see that being ripped apart and shredded.”
One gets the impression she doesn’t quite believe it’s physically possible for a baby pass through her birth canal. You might think her remarks were intended to be humorous, but she’s obviously trying to talk up her spirits. I’m sure the captain of the Titanic made similar quips when the band was giving its final concert.
The man who impregnated Mila is an actor called Ashton Kutcher, whom I know nothing about. Be that as it may, he should attend a prenatal fathering class so he can learn how to mollify his missus. My old circus buddy, Smacker Ramrod, used his experience as a vet to help his own wife deliver their brood:
“I told her to moo like a cow during her first labour,” he explained. “It emptied her mind of all human concerns and got her into animal mode. Our firstborn popped out like a bar of soap.”
“Did you deliver the child yourself?” I asked.
“No, I didn’t have the right license for that,” he replied. “But we hired a Nepalese midwife who couldn’t speak a word of English. It made the whole thing more like a veterinary experience.”
One would hope things go as smoothly for Mila, but I can’t say I’m optimistic. Her birth will doubtless be attended by a team of busybodies, barking out instructions instead of letting Nature take its course. You couldn’t blame a baby for staying inside the womb rather than entering a zoo like that.
On a more positive note, Mila is delighted that her breasts have got bigger in preparation for the new arrival:
"They're amazing!” she exclaimed. “They've tripled in size. I was a 34A: now I'm a 36C!”
This is very good news for everyone connected with Mila, and especially good news for the baby, who can look forward to a hearty meal after being rudely ejected from its cosy cubbyhole. A pair of boobies, brimming with milk, is just what you need to calm your nerves when you arrive in a strange place.
I hope Mila has invested in one of those suction devices that can harvest milk from over-lactitious women. She could donate her surplus to less bountiful mothers or the makers of gourmet ice-cream. I wouldn’t eat it myself, but she must have fans willing to pay top dollar for a taste of her titty fluid.
“Let others feed on what you don’t need” as we say in the jungle.
Labels: breast-feeding, human milk, Mila Kunis, natural childbirth, pregnancy
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Scouting expedition
Scout has recently been in the news for walking around topless in New York City. She was protesting against Instagram for deleting her account after she posted a couple of booby pictures. To justify her action, she wrote an article on a girlie website complaining that her nipples were the victims of sexual discrimination:
“To me, nipples seem to be at the very heart of the issue,” she explained. “In the 1930s, men’s nipples were just as provocative, shameful, and taboo as women’s are now, and men were protesting in much the same way.”
When I told the manager of the safari camp about her campaign, he looked at the picture of her above and said:
“She has my full support. I’d rather look at her tits than her face.”
“It’s a pity you’re not able to say that to her in person,” I remarked. “I’m sure she’d thank you warmly before kicking you in the nuts.”
Even if women win the right to denude their dumplings, I doubt social attitudes will change in the way Scout wants. A woman’s breasts cannot be desexualised because they resemble the buttocks too closely. From a relatively young age, boys learn that staring at naked bosom-flesh is a forbidden treat to be savoured. As they mature into manhood, they find that persuading a woman to take off her bra is a labour worthy of Hercules. If ladies start flaunting their jahoobies willy-nilly, it would devalue the whole experience. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas if it were celebrated every day.
A possible compromise would involve giving Scout the right to bare her breasts whenever and wherever she wanted, without making it a universal right. If I were the mayor of New York, I would present her with a booby permit in a public ceremony in Central Park. The event would surely be a major tourist attraction – I foresee people cancelling their holidays to Rio and Acapulco to watch it. It might also help to get Scout’s show business career off the ground. Having a famous pair of hooters never hindered Dolly Parton in her dizzy rise to the top of the telegraph pole.
As for Instagram, they showed what cowardly pimps they are when a rumour got out that Rihanna’s page had been deleted after she put up some racy pictures of herself. They promptly issued a denial and the page mysteriously reappeared. Maybe a decision taken by a low-level employee had been hastily reversed to avoid annoying all the dirty old lechers who ogle her pictures with their tongues hanging out. The lesson for Scout is clear: if your breasts become money-making assets, there’ll be no shortage of flunkies who'll milk them for you.
Labels: Breasts, Instagram, jahoobies, Rihanna, Scout Willis, sexism
Wednesday, June 04, 2014
The intern returns
Monica Lewinsky has blossomed into a confident, intelligent, attractive woman of 40. Before you call me a kiss-ass, study the recent picture of her above. When I emailed it to my friend Smacker Ramrod, he sent me the following response:
“Gadzooks, she is gorgeous! Lucky is the man who moistens the gum on her flap!”
I’m sure we would all agree with him on that.
Now, some of you might be thinking this is a gratuitous blog post about Miss Lewinsky, written for no other reason than her suitability as a target for bawdy jokes. That would be a scurrilous, defamatory half-truth. I was inspired to pen this piece by Monica herself, who is the author of a fascinating article recently published in Vanity Fair. Let me summarize its main points for you:
1) Monica chided the chanteuse Beyoncé for taking her name in vain in one of her songs. The offending lyrics were:
He popped all my buttons and he ripped my blouse
He Monica Lewinsky’d all on my gown.
To which Monica retorted:
"Thanks, Beyoncé, but if we're verbing, I think you meant:
He Bill Clinton'd all on my gown.
Well said, Monica. Some might say that although you didn’t own the gun you helped to pull the trigger. I would say that no one is entitled to turn your name into a verb for jizzing. It wasn’t your mess and Beyoncé is clearly an airhead.
2) In reminiscing about her youthful indiscretion in the White House, she said that the public disclosure of her deeds had made her “the most humiliated person in the world”, and that the true villains of the affair were those who did the disclosing, rather than the tomcat president whom she willingly siphoned. (I apologise for the length of the last sentence, which is a bigger mouthful than the one Monica got, but sometimes it’s necessary to spit it out in one go.)
3) After getting her Masters degree from the London School of Economics, she turned down job offers from firms seeking to exploit her status as the world’s most famous fellator. She is now using her experience to help victims of on-line humiliation and harassment, which she hopes will give a purpose to her past.
You’ve got to respect Monica for dealing with her debacle in such a dignified way. She could have made millions by promoting herself as America’s No.1 hoochie, but instead she chose philanthropy, which is an entirely different field.
Being humiliated is a terrible fate for a human, although it has to be said that many deserve it. I get the impression it’s easier to bear for those not overburdened with grey matter. Take Mr Becks, for example. He recently revealed that he wooed Victoria Spice by wearing an exceptionally tight pair of trunks. A man of greater intellect, like Einstein or Eddie Murphy, would have surely been embarrassed to admit to such a thing.
Life is so much easier if you can respond to ridicule and insults by grinning like a village idiot.
Labels: humiliation, jism, Monica Lewinsky, Mr Becks, Victoria Spice
