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Everyone is crying brand new unicorn tears over Mrs. Orange’s new white house photo. There have been comparisons of her portrait against those of previous F.L.O.T.U.S’ and suffice to say there has been a collective bunching of American panties.


It is clear that the ring is obnoxious, it is clear that the gross display of wealth exceeds that of anyone not morally bankrupt, it is also clear that the retouching
and soft-spackle done on her skin out-fogs even the most severe cataract condition; but the bottom line is who really cares?  You know what you voted for and so do I. Anyone worth their salt will at least shine up their trophies before company comes over.


Now, what is more important is my current quandary. In all of Atlanta, how is it that M.S.Y has been able to locate the last 7 undocumented cases of chronic low self-esteem crotch-critterittis?


In defense of the cast, the show is breaking down all sorts of gender roles, and stereotypes! The men are messy; the women are building business, and as if that were not enough the kids are raising themselves.  I mean, they can’t even be bothered to show up for the show. Not that they should feature the children, but is there really that much editing that you don’t catch a glimpse of, or bump into what has to be a minimum of 30 children?  Stevie has 9 on his own, which leads me to believe there is a gang of kids somewhere in Atlanta plotting their revenge for this excessive embarrassment.  I refuse to be accused of trying to stop anyone’s bag, not that I could, but level of ass passing going on during LHHATL is astounding.  I have actually begun to take a dose of amoxicillin prior to the episodes as a precautionary measure.  May I also share that I am not ashamed of my base interest in this fiction.  At this point, if any of it were remotely true there would surely be a chalk outline for the finale episode rather than a reunion couch.

I am sure by now you are wondering two things about this contribution:

  • Q: How do these topics belong together?
  • A: Both issues are equally ridiculous, and equally fictional.
  • Q: Why?
  • A: Why not? If Captain and Mrs. Orange can be on the news every 30 seconds having accomplished nothing to their credit, why can’t we discuss all shows that insult our intelligence as a means of entertainment, hell the soaps have been doing it for decades.

(#breathesdeeply)  I am so glad to have gotten that off my chest! C’mon it’s OK to exhale with me.  Feel free to share your thoughts below (Happyface, winkysmile, all the other nonsense).


  1. I must admit I’m hooked on cable. Since Frasier and Will & Grace left, I have no patience with episodic TV. Lol. I used to be a devoted “All My Children” fan and there was (for the times) some mildly soapy debauchery. BUT, watching my peoples prance around with tits a-floppin’, crotch skirts/or no skirts, faux fighting, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera., is not entertaining for me. We bitch about black people only winning Oscars (like we’ve won so many) for mammy, hooker, pimp, or slave roles. Yet, we tune in every week to see an ensemble cast of the same. Trademark expectations. Trademark delivery. They got jobs–trashy jobs, but jobs. That said, Trump and his posse really are old news–including his over-PSed wife. I’ve got a Go Kit. So, when they really fuck up, I’m gone. I’m out.

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