it’s so funny. a lot of people ask me how i stay upbeat and face the world with such a definant, f**k you attitude. well, thank you. i’m glad you asked. here are your answers:
(1) what purpose would be served by my being all morose and wheepy? things like that accomplish nothing but red eyes and runny noses.
(2) what purpose would be served by my being all morose and wheepy *and* relying on the susan “corporate amerika” komen foundation folks to feed me the information they think i need instead of doing my own research, taking charge of my own life and *not* buying into the morose and wheepy (among other things) crap they spew and subsequently, i spew, all the while making it seem to the average north american that they’re truly an authority that “knows” and “cares”. (note: this is going to be my last explanation of my feeling about susan komen. i do not believe she was as afflicted by “self imposed ignorance” as some people imply. i also don’t believe she was either as educated or ignorant as other members of other “camps” have implied. i also don’t believe she believed the komen foundation would become an organisation that would take her name and use it to “sell the drama”. and i’m going to reserve my opinion about that cow-faced, scarier than pennywise, fame-seeking despot sister of hers until a later date. all i’m going to say is she’s scarier than the monsters that hang out under kids’ beds - and has far less of a fashion sense.)
(3) what purpose would be served by my dressing head-to-toe in j&j baby lotion pink (and who in the hell came up with the idea of making the breast cancer “ribbon” j&j baby lotion pink? coincidence or planned action? you be the one to decide) clothes and being interviewed while being morose and wheepy and, probably, wearing some sort of fake hair (not a wig, but fake hair parts as sold by various “cancer is pretty” stores) under a stinky-butt ugly head covering (read “something that the cat buried in the dirt because it was so offensive”) and spewing the burnt shit they serve up and eating it intentionally, just like the dumb as a box of puffed wheat but not nearly as tasty good little breast cancer victim i’m supposed to be?
open your damned eyes - especially you “women” (and gods know i hate, hate, HATE being associated with you wussy-assed beings who do nothing but pollute the world with your vileness and self-imposed ignorance) who whisper in loud tones, look away from me - and tell your children not to stare at me - or ask you (the one they trust to be nothing but honest with them) why i look the way i do and act the way i act.
(4) if you’re a us or canadian born and bred female over the age of 30, you have a 1 in 7 percent chance of looking like me sometime during the course of the rest of your lifetime. do you want your offspring to do to you what you’re teaching them to do to me? do you want them to fear you the way you’re teaching them to fear me? when your hair falls out and you get skinny, to you want them to think you’re as ugly as you think i am (or imply that i am, i guess i should say) and are teaching them i am?
(5) you don’t know me. but maybe you should. because that upbeat, defiant, f**k you being i show to you is me, not what someone tells me i should be. you’ve got a better chance of being afflicted with cancer than you have surviving the rest of your life unscathed. so maybe you should eschew the susan “corporate amerika” komen foundation bullshit, rub the bleach off your teeny bleached braincells and THINK for yourself.
i’m glad you asked. aren’t you?