Thursday, April 28, 2011
TRIGONOMETRY #10: MY MOM IS A DUMB CUNT.
It's normal for kids to be embarrassed by their parents. They're always doing things that make us cringe, like forcing us to eat green shit, or hug grandma, who all too often smells of chicken fat. But sometimes they say things that are so mind numbingly stupid and mean that it becomes impossible to remain silent. Such is the case here. My idiot mother shows her total lack of class by reaching back almost 3 years to issue a snarky, infantile crack to Katie Couric upon her announcement that she'll be leaving the CBS evening news, as if this "failed experiment" somehow retroactively invalidates the simple, direct question she asked that my "r word" mom couldn't answer. Face it, ma. You fucked up. On camera. You got outed as an imbecile for the world to see because you couldn't ad lib a response to the straight-ahead, unloaded question: "What do you read? The fact that you're still smarting from this after all these years shows that you know how badly you fucked up and like all true imbeciles, you blame Couric instead of yourself.
Now I realize that some people may think that the word I used is harsh. Many people don't like this word. They think it should be retired from the language along with the "n" word and the "r" word. They think the word is coarse, crude, and sexist. But language exist for the purpose of describing experience. A guy who is selfish, boisterous, belligerent, and offensive is rightly referred to as a dick. Or a prick. Sometimes the coarse, crude word is what fits. It sums up personality traits in a simple, straightforward way, and to forbid its usage would be to limit our ability to communicate. Just as a guy can be dick. A woman who is petty, spiteful, selfish, mean, vindictive, snarky and belligerent is a cunt. Not a c**t. Not a "c word." Not a "see you next Tuesday." A Cunt. And my mom is a cunt. As for calling her a dumb cunt, the dumb part was just for flavor.
And, by the way, ma -- Eli's comin'. That's right. He's writing the book. Of course, he's not writing it himself. He can't write. He can barely read. Chances are if you showed him a book, he'd eat it. Give him a computer, he'd try to crack a walnut with it. But you know that this poor, dumb redneck knows shit and he's spillin' that shit to a ghostwriter as we speak. Fate's a bitch, ain't it? If this bobblehead doll hadn't knocked up your kid, he'd be picking up trash on the highway outside Wasilla. But he's got eyes, ears, a long memory, a score to settle and cash to pocket. He may be a dope, but he's no fool. Better start working on some snarky comebacks. You're gonna need them.