Believe It, America

(Glorious HuffPo snapshot courtesy GTC)

I know it's hard to believe, but apparently Oscar©-winner Natalie Portman has allowed a $50 dress to rub against her body voluntarily.

What might cause a woman like her to stoop to such a level? Well, I'm no omniscient psychiatric genius*, but clearly she is going through a phase--a rebellious phase wherein she gleefully thumbs her nose at the absurd world of high-fashion whilst huffing fifty-gallon drums of industrial-strength disinfectants behind a dumpster with a bunch of asexual private-school bad boys in leather jackets.

Do you think she even cares that she is up the stick? No, you don't. Because she doesn't and it shows. She will rock whatever shit you throw over her shoulders to tea with the queen or her cousin's wedding, no questions asked. She's got other things on her mind and knows the world's either gonna roll along with her or she'll tell it to fuck off and lose no sleep.

Don't believe me? Check out this brief documentary about a day in her life.

Now, before you get too excited about the whole huffing thing, please keep in mind that mothers have been huffing industrial-strength disinfectants for centuries and there have been no conclusive studies funded by the international chemical conglomerates that link frequent chemical-huffing by pregnant women to three-limbed children who reach maturity unable to spell or locate themselves while staring into a mirror.

All those liberal communists that claim huffing is bad for children have been clamoring for government action for a while now. Does the government care? Not really. A brain-damaged pool of wage-slaves happy to have any job you throw at them is actually a very desirable underclass in this era of increasingly disgusting income inequality. People cut from such cloth are notorious for being unable to figure out how to cash paychecks or even maintain a mailing address for more than one day, much less mount a well-organized rebellion intent on wealth redistribution.

If I may be so candid, the real problem with these little huff-baby fellers is that they're so stupid they keep falling into the machines at the plant! Do you know how much more difficult that makes it to abide those job-killing, anti-business FDA/EPA laws regarding pieces of humans in things you sell?

As we all know by now it's pretty easy to get away with whatever you want in taco meat, hot dogs, and shit like that, but once multiple fingers start showing up in bottles of shampoo you're probably going to have to send some handsome-ish publicity wonk around the network talk shows to explain away the situation with a propaganda chuckle and a Beck-ish explanation for the accident that perversely blames the government regulations for causing employees to make stupid mistakes due to stress. Then you pay a $10,000 fine, raise the price of your shampoo, cut employee salaries, and voila--you're even higher up that golden ladder to rich person's heaven.

But I digress. Back to the meat:

- How did Natalie look in the dress? Youthful, vibrant, magnetic.
- Was it a pretty dress? No.
- Does it matter? No.
- Would it look great on my living room floor? Yes.
- Do I care that she is pregnant? No.
- Why not? The likelihood of child support payments are essentially zeroed-out, which is where I'd like them to be when I'm tomcatting my way around the green room at the Kodak Theater. In fact, it makes the exit strategy so much easier it's almost worth converting to a career of cruising prenatal clinics. Also, I have a pregnancy fetish.

Verdict: Success. (Yawn)


In other news...

(Glorious HuffPo snapshot courtesy GTC)

[We're all going to hell. Which means it'll be pretty great, if you think about it. Or would you rather be lonely in heaven for eternity? -Ed.]


* Kidding--of course I am

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