Reading about grotesquely stoopid people is the 21st century version of the freak show. It's not OK anymore to gawk, ogle, and laugh at conjoined twins or bearded ladies. Instead, folks who consider themselves normal now read with horrid fascination the trials and tribulations of amazingly, sometimes terminally, stupid people. These are a few classes of person that have made my Cant nerve twitch recently.
I just heard on the radio that national seat-belt compliance is estimated at 73%. To me, this statistic reads like: "More than one out of four people are intensely stupid and want to die."
How can anyone get in a car and not wear a seat belt? It's too uncomfortable? Well, I'm sure the windshield isn't too comfy when your forehead hits it at 30+ miles an hour. You might not be able to undo it and roast to death in a car fire? You may as well stay up at night fretting about dying in a shark attack when your cruise ship sinks after running aground on the relocated wreck on the Titanic in the Bermuda Triangle. You're much more likely to be in an auto accident and be ejected from your car or merely bashed into blackberry jam inside it. You don't like being told what to do by the gov'ment? Well, I wish that "wear a seat belt" were as obvious to everyone as "don't drive nails into your eyeballs" so that governments didn't feel the need to pass laws. Seat belts foiled a drunk driver's attempt to kill my mom and myself on Christmas Day 1993. If you don't want to wear a belt, then expect a lien against your estate to pay for scraping your sorry ass off the highway.
http://www.geocities.com/anorexiangel/welcome.htm
"Anorexia is a state of mind, a lifestyle, an expression, a freedom and a choice."
Russian roulette is a state of mind, a lifestyle, an expression, a freedom and a choice.
I need to lose weight. I acknowledge the fact that I'm about two steps away from being way too damned fat. I'd like to think that this has less to do with what the Evil Marketing Drones are pumping at me and more to do with how I remember being able to run more than a mile, buy clothes with ease, and tie my shoes without holding my breath. I have a lot of weight to lose, but nowhere in my wildest hallucinations would I consider images of death camp survivors as a goal to strive towards.
The gruesome pictures of anorexics just days before their deaths may throw some folks into a fit. How could anyone consider that bag o' bones desirable? How could anyone have such a twisted self-image? I've had first-hand experience with this sort of thing. An ex-girlfriend of mine harbored some serious self-esteem problems. One way she expressed her insecurity was to sleep with people in order to feel liked and accepted. Before I figured this out, I was more than willing to oblige. One evening, we dropped by her friend's place. The friend and her man were watching a favorite porn flick, one that they had watched often enough to memorize dialogue. In one scene, a rather heavy-set woman distracted a young gentleman from his morning bowl of corn pops. This distraction involved straddling and much pelvic thrusting. Due to the graphic nature of the film, the woman's plump posterior dominated much of the footage.
My ex spontaneously declared that she looked like the enthusiastically copulating woman in the movie. This got my head spinning. My ex was fairly top-heavy, but her bustiness had little to do with her overall body-fat percentage. She had very slim hips. In fact, she often aired her concerns about her hips and childbearing. I flat-out asked her: "When you look at yourself in the mirror, you see that?" She said she did. I was blown away. Now, the woman in the film was far from unnattractive. I've never been turned on by stick insects, but my ex's comparison was like Calista Flockhart looking at Camryn Manheim and saying "That's me!"
Never underestimate the brain's ability to distort and deceive itself.
Pakeha