Goodbye girls and blogs, how the hell aren't you? Sorry to cyber-bully you right off the bat, but who's the "secret blogger" now? YOU ARE, dingo. YOU ARE THE SECRET BLOGGER NOW! Anyway, we gather here today to talk about white people. Whoops, I just threw up. Hang on. SEGUE! Boy oh boy how about that Zico™?! You know what the "thing" about coconut "water" is? The "thing is," drinking it is a lot like getting laid. Raw. And if you know a thing or two about Gspots (anyone???) not only will shorty flip her cap in the tub, but--circle of life--she'll give birth in there too. In your tub full of Zico™, obvi. "BabiesRus," no wait, whoa, weird, I meant to say that babies can swim. Babies can swim.
We gather here today to talk about Renée Zellweger. Z is for Chump. Come on guys, let's be honest. Remember the face-slasher on the 4 train last summer? No? Well basically this crazy WOMAN was slashing peoples faces all summer long on the 4 train up in Da Bronx. Okay, so cut to, say, 1999, The Red Carpet... there's the starlet looking either anorexic or fat (we can't remember.) She's about to win a MacArthur Fellowship for her work in Chicago or no for her work in Bridget Jones. Just as she shifts her pose for one last photo-op, I sneak up behind her like this and... WHOSE THE SECRET FACE-SLASHER NOW?
Are you really still wondering why we hate Renée? We don't! We hate the system, man. And now you know what our little sign back in the good old days down at Occupy Coney Island (OCI) said... it said, Ice Cold Water! Ice Cold Beer! Ice Cold Water! Ice Cold Beer! Actually we didn't have signs back then, we used our voices-- "Ice Cold Water! Ice Cold Beer!" Hey, it wasn't much but we got by... supped on borscht... splashed the old foot in the waves... fresh crab... fish tacos...blew out my flipflop... Now I have this artsy scrapbook, it's for sale online check my blog AH HOLE AH HOLE for more details... it probably wouldn't kill you to support us, you know.
Do we have to spell it out? So Renée wins the prize-- he's the Chump of the Month, the jerk we look at and see symbolized so much of what is wrong with this world-- what is boring...deadening..stagnant...formulaic...narcissistic...hypnotically dull. "He," "she," "It," whatever! The bottom line is that the eating disorder + the contrived pout do not just = Mr. Renée Zellweger, but illustrates that whole humongous pile of bafangul we can never avoid completely or step entirely out of. Well, it's tax season! Fly me to the moon! Hats off! Viva Renée!
