Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Open Letter to Pic N Pay aka Hannafords aka Evil Purveyor of Beauty Porn

To whom it may concern,

You coward! You cocksucker! You spineless motherfucker! You continue to allow beauty pornography like "People" and "Us" and "Ok" and "Lifestyle" on your shelves. Is this the middle ages? What the fuck? Where's the aisle with the snake oil and leeches? Would you let that spoiled cunt Mary-Kate Ashley shit on the floor of your produce department? Would you? Would you let her squat down by the apples and take a gigantic dump on the floor and then wipe her ass and walk away? Yes or no? Because that is what it feels like when I go to your store to innocently buy some muffins or chips and I see that this skinny bitch is getting married or divorced or fucked in the ass by her toy poodle. I DON'T CARE! Now, you could say that it would be unacceptable if someone took a huge shit on the floor of your produce department. But the argument in favor of this crap act is that it is just shit. Who cares? All the food becomes shit so what does it matter if someone shits on the floor. Many markets around the world have shit on the floor. Just don't eat it. Or step in it. Yes, it stinks, but is it really a health risk? You could have signs, "DON'T STEP IN MARY-KATE'S SHIT"

Would that help? I think it would. My point is that this is the argument used when you leave this lurid beauty pornography on the shelf by the check out stands is that if I don't like it then I don't have to look at it. BUT YOU PUT IT RIGHT NEXT TO THE CASHIER STAND. YOU THINK I'M AN IDIOT? You want me to look at it. But I don't want to look at it. So what the fuck am I supposed to do? Close my eyes and get a fucking seeing eye dog to walk me through your store? It should be published along with all smut, per the 1st amendment, and then wrapped in plain brown paper and stuck out back with the anti-freeze and other poisons. Please! For the love of god take that shit away from the cashier stands. I want to tear every magazine to shreds and piss on the face of Britney Spears's latest "boy toy".

Here's 2 definitions of cosmopolitan, also the name of a trashy magazine:

So sophisticated as to be at home in all parts of the world or conversant with many spheres of interest.

2. sophisticated or urbane

And here, reprinted without permission, is a sample from Cosmo.com's latest home page:

Sex & Love

  • Sex Positions You've Never Tried
  • Sex Tips from Guys
  • 30 Feisty Foreplay Tips
  • 75 Crazy-Hot Sex Moves

Hair & Beauty

  • Best Hairstyles with Bangs
  • Celebrity Virtual Hairstyles
  • Ultimate Hair Color Ideas Guide
  • Sultry Summer Hairstyles

Celebs & Style

  • Sexy Summer Sandals
  • Top Lauren Conrad Hairstyles
  • Latest Summer Fashion
  • Sexy Lingerie for Your Shape

Quizzes & Games

  • Quiz: Are You In Love?
  • Play the Boy Toy Game
  • Are You a Good Flirt Quiz
  • Cosmo Couples Quiz
The only place these subjects would make one "conversant" or "sophisticated" is deep inside Anna Nicole Smith's withered cunt.

Let me make myself completely clear: THESE MAGAZINES ARE TOTAL SHIT. They are nothing but advertising forums for plastic surgery clinics, weight loss drugs, cosmetics and other barbaric institutions that PREY ON THE MANUFACTURED INSECURITIES OF WOMEN, insecurities that are assured by these very magazines. By putting this trash, much more manipulative than the nastiest fetish porn, where children can see it you are being a willful accomplice to THE DESTRUCTION OF ALL FEMALE SELF ESTEEM. Is that your intention? Do you want a population of top heavy, undernourished, beauty obsessed, gossip whores whose chief concern is the cellulite on Jennifer Aniston's ass? Is that your goal? Because that is exactly the goal of the editors of People and Ok. A distracted populace is a tame populace. Well, do I sound tame? Fuck you! You are not my friend. "You're an errand boy, sent by grocery clerks, to collect a bill." Right? Fuck you! All I want is a fucking corn muffin and if I found one of Oprah Winfrey's tampons in my muffin then I WOULD NOT EAT IT! If you wrapped these repulsive magazines in brown wrappers then I could blame no one but myself upon learning that Hannah Montana has a sex tape. But if you put a magazine that says in bold type "HOW GOOD ARE YOU AT ORAL SEX?" or "Kate to Tom: No More Anal Love!" right where I have to see it then I find it as objectionable as the idea of Mary-Kate Ashley shitting in the produce department. I only want some milk and a lightbulb. Jesus Christ! What must I say to make you understand? If I want to know the "juicy details" of the Hollywood Elite then I will go to a whore house and have a prostitute lick my asshole while I jerk off on a copy of "Teen Celebrity". I don't want to do that. THAT'S NOT HOW I WANT TO SPEND MY TIME. But that is exactly how I feel when my eyes stray for a fraction of a second on those glossy covers and the human wreckage they highlight. Their main objective is to target young impressionable women and make them feel inadequate by comparison to models and celebrities. Their lives, bodies and ideas are not, according to these magazines, worthwhile. But with some better clothes, a different set of tits and a glamorous attitude (including all manufactured knowledge of the latest famous whore) they can rise to a level of value. Beauty and love are commodities to be bought by surgeries and traded by lingerie, so say the editors of "In Touch" magazine. Your complicity in this crime is unacceptable. The simplest way to arrest this completely diabolical attack on our nation's women and my tender sensibilities is to take the magazines and put them either in the bathroom where I will wipe my ass with Christina Aguilara's face, or else wrap them in brown paper and hide them near the low calorie popcorn. Please do this today. Go on. Why are you still reading? Go. Right now. Get up and do what I ask. GO! Your concerned patron, Oggy Bleacher.
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Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.