Tucker Max is the Devil
Ok. I admit I laughed. But I am not sure why. It really wasn't funny. Not really. It was just a horrible story about one "man"s selfish and puerile exploitation of a gullible girl and most of a bottle of astro-glide. I put "man" in quotes to denote my sarcastic opinion that Tucker Max may well look like a man but he's really just an over grown boy of the ant-burning persuasion. Not really a man at all. Perhaps he's a changeling and not really human at all.
Don't argue with me about this. Because I am firmly teetering on the edge of despondency right now. One little "All men are really like that but most just wont admit it." and you will send me plunging over the edge. I NEED to deny. I NEED to wish away the darkness.
Because if this is how men really are then I am going lesbo.
Seriously. This is my worst nightmare. This manipulative, selfish, sociopathic user of women's bodies. This stunted and heartless trophy collector who will not only do the ugly things he brags about but then will go on to BRAG about them.
The Player.
Is this inside of all men? Inside there lurking under their disparate and varying exteriors. What I am asking is this:
Lets face it. Not all men are created equal. Some are far better looking than others. Some have musical skills (Chicks dig guys in bands) and some are artistic and sensitive (Some chicks dig this too, but not this chick). Some drive that yummy car. Some SEEM smart but it could just be a ruse... Are they all just Tucker Max longing to escape? Some how denied the access but ready to join the club if only someone would let them in the door? God help me if this is true.
I ask for devine help not for myself... I am the mother of three daughters. Wanna put the kibosh on your own prurient interests? Just think about your sweet little girl, the apple of your eye, going on a date with Tucker Max. This is the psychological equivalent of being thrown headlong into the polar bear tank at Sea World. At first, you're thinking "Oh holy hell! This is freaking COLD!" That's bad. Then you realize that it's both cold and brimming with polar bear crap. That's worse. And then you realize that those polar bears have always longed to just play with one of the leering things which parade by them 14 hours a day. Always wanted to just check that shit out.
But, all this time, they've lacked opportunity.
Perhaps Tucker is an aberration. I certainly hope so. But I am actually more fond of this notion. He's making this crap up. He has to be. Cause there is a veritable ARMY of women out there who could probably get out of the murder charges by merely directing the jury to their individual stories written by Tuckers hand. Or by pointing to the others.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, how can you be certain it was my client who skinned Tucker Max alive, dipped his flayed body into rubbing alcohol, then sugar and then dropped him headlong into the polar bear tank at Sea World? There are hundreds of women far more likely to have done this. Lets just review the evidence ... (3 days later and one juror is excused for vomiting) So, you must see -"
The Jury makes an unprecedented move here, interrupting the attorney to assert "We do not need to hear any more. While we are not certain that the defendant, in fact, did the acts alleged, we are certain that she could have... and therefore offer her our sincerest thanks and send her home with this small token of our appreciation." The jury then awards her a prize of $327.86 (all the cash they have) and a pile of assorted watches and pieces of jewelry, applauds her, then stands up and applauds her some more as she exits the court room in a Miss America type sash quickly assembled from the flag and the bailiffs hand cuffs.
This is the REALITY behind the Tucker Max infection. I hope I've been a shot of penicillin in your ass.
Don't argue with me about this. Because I am firmly teetering on the edge of despondency right now. One little "All men are really like that but most just wont admit it." and you will send me plunging over the edge. I NEED to deny. I NEED to wish away the darkness.
Because if this is how men really are then I am going lesbo.
Seriously. This is my worst nightmare. This manipulative, selfish, sociopathic user of women's bodies. This stunted and heartless trophy collector who will not only do the ugly things he brags about but then will go on to BRAG about them.
The Player.
Is this inside of all men? Inside there lurking under their disparate and varying exteriors. What I am asking is this:
"Are all men capable of this, just brimming with MOTIVE and merely denied the opportunity?"
Lets face it. Not all men are created equal. Some are far better looking than others. Some have musical skills (Chicks dig guys in bands) and some are artistic and sensitive (Some chicks dig this too, but not this chick). Some drive that yummy car. Some SEEM smart but it could just be a ruse... Are they all just Tucker Max longing to escape? Some how denied the access but ready to join the club if only someone would let them in the door? God help me if this is true.
I ask for devine help not for myself... I am the mother of three daughters. Wanna put the kibosh on your own prurient interests? Just think about your sweet little girl, the apple of your eye, going on a date with Tucker Max. This is the psychological equivalent of being thrown headlong into the polar bear tank at Sea World. At first, you're thinking "Oh holy hell! This is freaking COLD!" That's bad. Then you realize that it's both cold and brimming with polar bear crap. That's worse. And then you realize that those polar bears have always longed to just play with one of the leering things which parade by them 14 hours a day. Always wanted to just check that shit out.
But, all this time, they've lacked opportunity.
Perhaps Tucker is an aberration. I certainly hope so. But I am actually more fond of this notion. He's making this crap up. He has to be. Cause there is a veritable ARMY of women out there who could probably get out of the murder charges by merely directing the jury to their individual stories written by Tuckers hand. Or by pointing to the others.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, how can you be certain it was my client who skinned Tucker Max alive, dipped his flayed body into rubbing alcohol, then sugar and then dropped him headlong into the polar bear tank at Sea World? There are hundreds of women far more likely to have done this. Lets just review the evidence ... (3 days later and one juror is excused for vomiting) So, you must see -"
The Jury makes an unprecedented move here, interrupting the attorney to assert "We do not need to hear any more. While we are not certain that the defendant, in fact, did the acts alleged, we are certain that she could have... and therefore offer her our sincerest thanks and send her home with this small token of our appreciation." The jury then awards her a prize of $327.86 (all the cash they have) and a pile of assorted watches and pieces of jewelry, applauds her, then stands up and applauds her some more as she exits the court room in a Miss America type sash quickly assembled from the flag and the bailiffs hand cuffs.
This is the REALITY behind the Tucker Max infection. I hope I've been a shot of penicillin in your ass.
posted by Bad Penny at 7:24 AM
1 Comments:
Well, I find Flaming Feminists to be of equal evil-ness. Truly. In fact, if I had to chose between Tucker and some feminist bitch... I think I'd pick Tucker. Because Tucker is less disingenuious in my estimation. But who am I? Just some woman who still refers to herself as a girl.
Post a Comment
<< Home