BIG Boob
Ya Big Boob
Mom kicked off plane for breast feeding her baby.
Are you kidding me with this? What is the issue that people have about breast-feeding? Let’s break it down very simply, shall we?
We are mammals. Mammals, by definition–(Thank you, National Geographic): Any of various warm-blooded vertebrate animals of the class Mammalia, including humans, characterized by a covering of hair on the skin and, in the female, milk-producing mammary glands for nourishing the young.
Oh, my god, what are these bunnies doing????
And this orangatan??
And the worst of all, this shameless mother panda. Good lord, is that a breast???
I know, we shouldn’t stoop to this animalistic behavior. After all, who would support the 3 million dollar a year salary of Nestle, maker of baby formula? Do you think the CEO wants you to use free healthy, natural breast milk for your baby? Barbaric. No, we are more civilized than this. We humans want it known that breasts are SEX OBJECTS and should be treated solely as such. Yep, we know the real reason for breasts: 
For adolescent fun and mockery, of course.
Feeding babies? Ridiculous and repulsive.
Someone rescue me.
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One Response to “Ya Big Boob”
March 30, 2008 | Considering how much TV I watch, you’d think that eventually my senses would become numbed to the insanity of the small screen. What other defense could my brain launch in response to so much lowbrow entertainment, than to dampen the clumsy blows of pop culture’s bluntest weapons? Surely, after years at this job, my sensitivity to the idiocy and outrageousness of television would decrease, rendering me less and less surprised or disturbed by the madness I encounter.
Sadly, though, the more exposure I have to the volatile, absurd, depraved kaleidoscope of televised entertainments, the more my senses have become heightened to the boob tube’s confusing stimuli. Little details that other viewers have long since accepted as part of the mundane TV landscape — David Caruso’s growl, Tyra Banks’ elevation to giganto-tranny/high priestess of the universe, Julie Chen’s wardrobe choices — these things confound my overtaxed senses much like a scrap of shiny paper confuses the ecstasy-addled teenager.
“The Hills” aren’t alive with anything
Take Lauren Conrad, the star of reality soap “The Hills” (10 p.m. EDT Mondays on MTV). When the series returned last Monday, it struck me once again, this time with even more force, how utterly devoid of charm and personality and a discernible pulse Lauren is. What is this limp rag of a woman doing on TV? Why is the camera trained on her empty face, which reflects the apparent paucity of thoughts floating through her head? Why do we see, time and again, that pouting, downturned mouth, which forms words so infrequently?
Clearly, the point of “The Hills” is to see Lauren tortured at every turn. How else could Audrina call, right after Lauren and Whitney arrived in Paris, to tell Lauren that she saw Brody Jenner, her sort-of sweetheart, in L.A. the night before with a girl he introduced as his girlfriend? Even Whitney, who’s supposed to be Lauren’s friend, has trouble stifling laughter at the swiftness of Brody’s betrayal. “Really? That took, uh, two days!” she says with a smirk, then struggles mightily to wipe the smile away as she supportively brushes a stray hair off Lauren’s face.
And what does Lauren say? Nothing.
Whitney: We can find boyfriends in two days!
Lauren: Silence.
Whitney: If he can do it, so can we!
Lauren: Silence.
Whitney: I’m sure that Paris is full of guys who are cooler than Brody.
Lauren: Silence.
Next, Lauren and Whitney decide to go out to a club with some guys from a French rock ‘n’ roll band called Rock ‘n’ Roll. Maybe these concrete thinkers will be slow enough to find Lauren interesting, or maybe the language barrier will render her mute frowning mysterious and seductive.
One of the guys leers at Lauren from across the table, and she lights up immediately. “Maybe I’m crazy, but I think that greasy guy with the half-assed mustache is leering at me!” her delighted face seems to say, but her mouth, as always, says nothing. At least she’s throwing us a bone by offering us a rare glimpse of how her face looks when she’s not in a semi-comatose state.
The Leering Rocker (whose name is Mathias) follows her out to say goodbye, and she dodges his advances, which in Lauren’s twisted universe is a crystal-clear come-hither sign. Happy to be encouraged by Lauren (Or the show’s producers? It’s so hard to tell!) Leering Rocker shows up after the Teen Vogue event she and Whitney are in Paris to help with. He rides up on a Vespa (His Vespa?) with two matching, shiny silver helmets (OK, obviously a producer rented this moped package for him). Lauren hikes up her ball gown and the two zip off into the rainy night for what is an undoubtedly unpleasant but nonetheless rather photogenic adventure through the streets of Paris.
The next day, Whitney and Lauren discuss their regrets over having to leave Paris so soon after arriving.
Whitney: I bet Mathias really liked you. I bet he wishes you were staying longer.
Lauren: Me too.
Whitney: What about Brody?
Lauren: Silence.
Whitney: It’s so weird, just to come here and then come home with like a whole new perspective on things, you know?
Lauren: Well, Lisa did say that Paris changes you.
Whitney: What about you? Are you excited to go back home?
Lauren: I don’t know. I guess so.
Wouldn’t it save MTV untold piles of cash if they replaced Lauren Conrad with, say, a duffel bag? They could ship the duffel bag to Paris, shoot it lounging in the luxury hotel room as Whitney guesses at its innermost thoughts and desires. They could even prop it up on the back of the moped behind Leering Rocker and show it the sights of Paris at night. The duffel bag could appear on the cover of US Weekly next to the words “How I Got Stabbed in the Back” or maybe, “How I Got Thrown Around Carelessly.”
And you can bet that a duffel bag wouldn’t become outraged over its press, pathetically confusing itself with a real-life human being. A duffel bag would happily accept its role as a fictional character on an entirely imaginary “reality” show.
Anyway, we’ve got much more to discuss so we’ll get to Lauren’s ex-friend Ice Princess Barbie Heidi and her repetitive ‘toon boyfriend Spencer later.
More of the same hypocritical thinking that strikes out at bare breasts, can’t get enough cleavage in magazines and advertisement to sell “God-knows-what-all”!
Yet the fact that every 5th person in our country has been subjected to molestation, Clergy rape and what happens routinely in prison (rape) is not accorded the same outrage nor attention! It might just shatter the illusion that all is safe as long as we clamp down on public display of breast-feeding.
Remember, the Christian Right and Moral Majority are neither!!