Another Post Courtesy of the The Daily Mail - I kid Rupert Murdoch a lot when we see each other at the Friar's Club but his rag does supply an endless assortment of crap for my blog.
You guys know the drill. I post comments on The Daily Mail and try to get as many red "dislike" arrows as possible.
The heartbreaking moment The Little Couple star Jen Arnold reveals to viewers she is battling stage three cancer
My Comment: The Kardashians should take note. Cancer is great for ratings. I would figure out a way for the fat brother to get it -- testicular cancer would be perfect for some light-hearted genital jokes. Khloe would be 2nd choice. You don't want the pretty ones ending up bald and ugly, that would be bad for merchandizing. Rating ▼157
157 red arrows in about an hour. This was going to be my best comment ever. Back in August 2013, I dared to defend Justin Beiber and got a Rating ▼453. Apparently, readers of The Daily Mail like this little family even more than they hate Justin Beiber -- but then my joy was gone.
I saw a little warning saying my comment had broken the house rules then the little warning closed. I just studied the house rules and I don't see any rule that this comment violates. I think one of the rightwing, nutjob, celebrity-worshipper, househags complained about my comment. I'll never know.
For the record, I have never seen this show. I never will see it. I'm sure in real life this couple is good people.
But a reality show is not real life.
This woman is not your friend. She is a performer on a TV show. Her show competes with the Kardashians, Honey Boo Boo and The Big Bang Theory for your eyeballs. Your eyeballs mean $$$. Reality TV is all about making money.
The Kardashians don't live in the house that's on the show. It's a set. If a producer suggested that Kim has to get ovarian cancer for ratings, the mom would do it. Imagine a bald Kim picking out the prettiest $100,000 wig with her idiot sisters giggling over every choice. Then The Daily Mail would reveal that it was all fake and everybody would be upset until the next time the girls showed some side boob.
My comment was not a cancer joke. It was not a dwarf joke. It was a sophisticated observation about reality television and the diminishing intelligence and decaying morality of their target audience.
I'm a nice guy and I can prove it with a story about me and a "human of short stature." I used to work with a dwarf. Her name was Donna. She was a word processor and was an excellent typist even with her incredibly short fingers. She was also very nice and pretty hot for a dwarf.
We used to go to lunch together every week. I used to let her drive even though I was scared to death I would die inside the crumpled, burned-out remains of her Chevy Impala. It wasn't the blocks on her gas pedal and brakes that were scary. She was a terrible driver that would not shut up and liked to talk with her hands like an Italian fishmonger. She was Italian. She had hairy arms but I dig that.
Did I mention that she used to talk endlessly about her loser fiancee. He worked construction but like many dwarfs wanted to be an actor. He did some dwarf-tossing at local bars because it was show business and that really upset Donna. Basically, the guy was a little prick.
Bottom line, I could have banged her. Easy. I didn't. Even though it would have been epic. I didn't because I'm a nice guy and she was vulnerable, horny and usually tipsy off of one wine spritzer.
So, now that you know I'm a nice guy with only good intentions did you ever hear the one about the little person who finds out that his wife has cancer? The guy takes his wife shopping to try and cheer her up but it only makes her sadder. He gets pissed off and asks her why. She says, "I didn't like any of the headstones and I don't want to be buried in a kid's coffin. I don't care how much cheaper they are"