Hmm, I see I haven't posted anything in 3 weeks. That's a whole lot of beautiful asian women in bikinis not gawked at, and 3 Heavy Metal Mondays sadly lacking in metal. And I see through site meter that people are still dropping by, and staying for several minutes. I guess I'd best get pixel to screen, here.
Let's get up a belated Heavy Metal Monday in honour of the assholes in Colorado, who pretended to accidentally launch their 6 y/o son into the stratosphere, in a homemade balloon. You know the boneheads I mean, the ones who were using it as a publicity stunt for his upcoming "reality tv" show.
First off, Mrs. Fulminandrew tells me that, due to the negative publicity, the network has pulled the plug on the show. Jeebus, I hope so. 'Tis said there is no bad publicity, but this seems to be bad enough that the shitheads are losing their show. Good.
Second, criminal charges? Don't think so. Stupidity is its own reward. Simply charge them for the costs of the search; personnel charges, equipment charges, fuel, etc. Then double or triple it for the nuisance factor. Then make sure they're civilly liable for any harm to anyone who needed the services, but couldn't get them as they were busy off on a wild goose chase. Then parade them down West Colfax in Denver, naked. Then leave them to rot in obscurity.
Third. Judas Pries on a pogo stick, people. You thought you could use a six y/o boy in a stunt like this, and the truth wouldn't come out? What are you, fucking retarded? Bill Cosby built an entire TV show around getting kids to say things their parents didn't want them to. It ain't hard.
Fourth, to our honoured members of the fourth estate, LEAVE THE POOR KID ALONE YOU JACKALS. Mrs. Fulminandrew also tells me that the poor kid is physically ill in interviews. The poor little guy knows he's done something to hurt his parents. Parents who, if they're worth a bucket of warm spit, have not punished him, in any way shape or form, for letting the cat out of the bag. Whether they have or not, he knows, and it's tearing him up. So, again, leave the poor kid alone. It's not about him, its about his shithead of a father.
You know, without going off on a rant here, let me just say that I am sick unto death with parents who think their kids exist for them. No, asspipes, that's backwards; you exist for your children. Your only raison d'etre, until they're out the door and on their own, is to get them there, reasonably intact, able to care for themselves and no burden to society. They're not your cash cows (I'm looking at you, Jo Jackson), their not you tools (Heeney family) and they sure as shit aren't your weapons (Shithead and Shithead from the Shithead and Shithead Plus Eight show).
Inspired by how fucking tired I am of celebutard parents, I give you Ozzy Osbourne.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's a love ballad, but I'm still fucking tired of celebutard parents.
As always, when I indulge in a ballad, I shall attempt to clean the palette. So, in keeping with the children of celebutards motif, here is Iron Maiden's Children of the Damned.
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