Monday, May 29, 2017

Qu'ils Mangent de la Merde

It's bad enough that these people don't know what Memorial Day is for, because none of them have ever sacrificed anything for anyone. But good grief, they just never stop selling branding monetizing more more more.

I suppose it's a reasonable enough simulacrum of what passes for a life these days, and considering the man from whose poisoned sperm she was spawned seriously talked about his supposed sexual conquests as his own "personal Vietnam," it all makes sense. They think working long hours and schmoozing the mediocracy counts as sacrifice. They think that treating the help as if they were human counts for something.

One gets the impression that there might occasionally be something behind the endless kayfabe with the old man. He knows but doesn't care, but at least he knows, on some elemental level, that he's a pustulent dirtbag. That doesn't make him one bit less of a piece of shit, but at least there's a slice of contextual awareness. Maybe. Probably not, but the possibility exists, however remote.

It's not at all clear if Joanie Clownstick, spoiled and privileged from the day she entered this rotten vale of sorrows, actually knows better. It seems like she doesn't really have any clue as to how awful and soulless and off-putting she really is. She gets a lot of attention for being conventionally attractive, but she has the charisma of a Japanese rubber sex doll. This is the sort of person that would put out a promo tweet about taking a dump, if only to push the toilet and paper used. "Great meal @Nobu, letting it go in @AmericanStandard, cleaning up with some @Cottonelle. #satisfied"

She seems to think she has something to say to and about "working" women, even though the whole world knows that her empty bromides resonate only with people like herself, people whose vacant aspirations are actualized in branding and acquisitions and self-serving lies and renting other humans to do their scut work. Twitter Nixon nailed her plastic ass to the wall last week -- when Joanie's trust-fund douchebag traitor slumlord husband gets his ass carted off to Club Fed for selling out his country to Vladimir Putin, she'll write a "single mother" book.

And a certain type of spoiled asshole will buy it.

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