Pepé Le Pew Or Beavis And Butthead?


There you have it, dear worst-reader. #Americant cartoons. What else is there to explain to the aliens–when they finally arrive–how the human mind/intellect functions? I mean. We don’t have to explain much on account, well, it ain’t Star Trek and I’m sure most aliens don’t speak California English. And so. By simply showing the aliens how we educate our masses of #MAGA morons and man-children reared by eternal-perpetual child-brides that can only propagate the idear of white anglo Saxon milf-dom…. Hold a sec. Restart.

Perhaps it’s better to start this worst-post with that other weak link that is the #Americant intellect. Namely, the #Americant intellect has its origin in the likes of #Eurowasteland. That’s right. In case you’ve forgotten. Or you’ve misplaced in the trash bag you’re currently throwing away from some fast-food joint, everything (that is) my beloved & missed united mistakes stems from the ultimate motherfcuker: the big, nasty, bad-mood, ugly-tit, smelly biatch aka Europe. Or should we just blame Engaland since it’s the only remaining part of history that still has a useless monarch and also the only remaining $hithole across the great pond that cartoon-intellect #Americants can actually relate to? I mean. Don’t you too just love those accents? If only an accent could be turned into a cartoon. Oh wait. What about that French skunk?

Indeed. Probably should have included the British monarchy in the worst-title above, eh, dear worst-reader? But has #Americant ingenuity cartoonized the queen? I mean. Come on. Is there anything more cartoonish than monarchs, prince and princesses, Dukes and/or Dianas? Indeed, baby. There is no better example of a cartoon than the Engaland monarchy. Ok. Maybe the Swedish monarchy. And the Dutch one, too. Etc. And so. As a monarch hater, if you couldn’t tell, it’s kinda hard for me to include anything except revulsion towards hereditary privilege–in which case cartoons are a good way of explaining humanity. Then again, in terms of privilege, where would my beloved #Americant be today if it weren’t for the gradual progression of LAND OF FREE TO BE STUPID–where there’s a bit too much f-you money to NOT go ’round–that so well emulates British monarchy–as a cartoon? As in. You know. Stupid only begets more stupid–especially if you’re one of the inheritors of wealth (or privilege) that goes around cracking itself on the head with a caveman stick. Eh? Indeed. But I need to move on.

Let’s be clear, dear worst-reader. Since I was born in 1963 (or there abouts), it’s pretty obvious that I was reared by idiocy–and cartoons. That is, among the various layers of #Americant middle-classes (that reared me), I’m from one of the lower ones and we were fed cartoons more than the others. But. Again. Lower or higher among the rungs of middle-class #Americant, the amount/level of idiocy is the only thing that connects us all–cartoon or no cartoon. Yet. What is obviously clear when taking a look at class structure–especially in the context of consume-to-survive #Americant–is that there is something above and beyond… a/our/the hyphen (that connects us and our classes). That’s right. If you’ve read anything in this worst-blog you know that that connection is all-things STUPID. But I’ve said that too many times already. And I want to really get-on about cartoons.

How could anybody pick on Pepé Le Pew? I mean. Get this. I’m sympathetic to the fight against rape culture. Truly I am. But Pepé was (and is) an insult to the French. At best he is/was an insult to either romantic or lustful flirtation. But to label Pepé as a rapist? Come on. Please. Dear worst-reader! Give this a thought or three: Post WW2 #Amercant was/is obsessed with the French appeasement of Nazi Germany to the point of… well… to the point of I don’t know what. But #Americants go from freedom-fries, to garlic smells to funny-nosed goblins that eat children when it comes to the inability of understanding the French and/or European history. Does any of that justify a cartoon’s behaviour towards women? Of course it doesn’t. But before I go too far and provide someone with the idear that I’m on the side of right- or left-wing cancel culture run amok….

Can you believe it, dear worst-reader? I mean. Have you gotten a load of what’s been going on in the newz of late? Or did you miss the whole inbred monarchy bull$hit being perpetrated by an #Americant billionaire (Oprah Winfrey) and thereby continuing the saga of error so many generations of inbreeding via the f’n queen of Engaland can’t seem to shake–nomatter who or what she arranges for her dunce children and grandchildren to marry? Of course, let me be clear on one thing regarding the American (Meghan Markle) that a British queen grandchild recently married. This is all so friggin stupid and repetitive (didn’t Prince Andrew go through basically the same thing?) that my head is spinning just thinking about how much I loved Pepé Le Pew (when I was nine). And since I’m on the worst-subject of #Americants marrying into the dentally challenged cartoonish British monarchy…

I really, really, really felt for Meghan Markle when she had to enter that Church all by her lonesome as she was about to marry Privilege. I actually stood up from the couch (or was it from my desk chair) when I saw how she exited that fancy car–alone–and then proceeded to walk up the stairs to the church–alone–in order to marry into–alone–privilege. And ain’t that ultimately how it’s all gonna end, this cartoon of life that oh-so entertains the women-folk, dear worst-reader? You know. We’re all alone in this dream of unicorn crocodile tears as the song of weddings intrigues our feminine worst-minds. But enough of my distraught frustration at having been born so poor but still being able to respect a speck of what Markle is (could be) above and beyond the pink inside that men somehow have to marry (to keep getting into the same pink that is inside). And so. Moving on.

The thing is this, dear worst-reader. As the audience of life goes about its cartoonish ways, enjoying the hissy and the pissy of foul marriages and rich-people interviewers, the political right-wing of my beloved & missed LAND OF FREE TO BE STUPID has been gettin’ on about one of my favourite cartoon characters from when I was a poor middle-class shit-kicker. And that kinda ticks me off. You know. Why drag the innocent into all this? Unless, of course, you really want to call out the cartoons that turned stupid into STUPIDER.

I’m not bad. I’m just drawn that way. -Jessica Rabbit

Which begs the question: Why ain’t anybody complaining about Beavis & Butthead? But I die-gress.

How easy it is to get caught up in the riff-raff of television $hit-talk, dear worst-reader? It makes one forget about the real $hit that is #Americant life. In this case, though, as far as $hit-talk goes, I’d take sexist, pseudo-rapist Pepé Le Pew over the likes of Beavis & Butthead. Or am I splitting hairs? I mean, at least with Le Pew you know what you’re getting. With Beavis & Butthead, it is hard to tell it is a mirror if it doesn’t look back at you, eh. With that in worst-mind, why draw cartoons into the mix that is right-wing, dimwit, dip$hit #Americant mis-information? Because it might be a sign of someone or something–especially an ideology–having reached its proverbial end? Considering the cartoon-like antics of those that marched on Jan. 6, 2021–most of whom were probably reared by Beavis & Butthead–on the cartoon Capitol of the land of FREE TO BE STUPID–and those that made it all happen–i.e. #MAGA and prez piss-hair–is it any wonder that right-wing blowhards are turning to cartoons to help them conjure blame?

Yeah, baby. All that’s left for at least two generations of #Americants–Boomers and Boomer parents–is the run-away machine of the ultimate vehicle of (their) intellects: who/what to blame? The problem is, has all the blame run out? They can’t blame the poor anymore. Been done. They can’t blame Jews anymore. Been done. They can’t blame women anymore. Been done. Will they be low enough to blame their ugly and disgusting children? Or what about their mothers–who all have been unable to teach their sons the difference between flirtation and sticking it in after she says no? Perhaps. And so. The privileged, fail-upward, white-man disease must find blame anew. It’s all like a colossal beast-monster that feeds on both stupid and ugly and is best exemplified in the intellect of Beavis & Butthead–and no longer being able to blame the French and the image of a smelly skunk that digs pussy(cats). And so. What’s left to feed it? Oh wait, some blowhard white guy says: Why not blame the cartoons that still stick in our minds like smouldering donut dough left in the sunshine of Tucker Carlson’s mother’s ugly and teethed pussy(cat)? Yeah. That’s the worst-writer ticket, baby. They (the Tucker Carlsons) are not only raised by the intellect of cartoons but they’ve never been able to get out of Toon-town. Am I wrong.

On the other hand. What can one expect when one thinks thrice again and again and again about how #Americant actually elected a guy like #Trump to serve as el Presidenté of the LAND OF FREE TO BE STUPID and all its information resources can come up with now to discuss is a carton from the 1950s. Or maybe not.

Long live Pepé Le Pew!

Rant on.


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