Mar. 1st, 2012

bloodyrosemccoy: (ABCDEF Cookie Monster)
Oh, my god. Scott Lynch gives us a brilliant summation of an excellent classic Sesame Street special: Against Big Bird, The Gods Themselves Contend In Vain.

My old library had a battered VHS copy of Don’t Eat The Pictures back in the day, and I swear we checked that shit out ALL THE TIME. It was awesome: as Lynch points out, we get to watch Big Bird aid a soul on its way to the afterlife and plead its case to the gods,* a thing that made complete sense to me at the time because OF COURSE Big Bird will defy the gods for you.** But he failed to mention the part where Cookie Monster teaches us that you should enjoy art with your eyes, by which I mean his shoulder angels have to admonish him to refrain from eating not only the priceless works of art in the museum, but also the MUMMIES.*** Yes, Cookie Monster has a crisis of conscience about whether he should eat the dried corpses of Ancient Egyptian pharaohs.

Tell me, when does Dora the Explorer ever deal with the real issues like this?


*Or, in small child terms, help a little kid find his parents again. These are the important things.

**Incidentally, I would like to submit that Carroll Spinney is one of the most badass actors on TV. Dude has spent forty goddamn years acting virtually blind inside a giant pressure cooker, he can motherfuckin' ROLLER SKATE while wearing giant three-toed foam feet, and somehow he manages to hide that Big Bird has a nonfunctioning right arm pretty effectively--took me years to notice. Also, he himself probably has a right arm like a California redwood. Or maybe an anaconda.

***Actual line from title song: “Mummy look yummy, but not for tummy!”
bloodyrosemccoy: (Optimus)
In other news, I just swallowed one of the birth control pills I’ve been on since age 14. It’s called polycystic ovary syndrome, a hormone condition that messes with my metabolism and blood sugar, makes my body hair into goddamn kudzu,* causes periods that look like Steve Buscemi at the end of Fargo, and—believe it or not—gives me lots of cysts on my ovaries.

So, my fine politicians, quite apart from how my sex life is none of your damn business, I need that god damn Pill. I would rather not have something I depend on for health purposes become the latest iteration of your pissing contest, thanks.


*In the right light, I appear to have a pencil-thin mustache. Sexy!

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