The thing is I was trying to play Marry-Fuck-Kill with Fox News and I decided that I would eff Hannity, obvs, and kill O'Reilly, and marry Glenn Beck. And I sort of defied everybody to come up with a better set of choices, and they couldn't. I've always wanted to marry Glenn Beck, because I believe he would be a fantastic husband. Brilliant, manipulative, into marketing, willing to whore out for a buck. The kind of guy who will be mean to the landscapers if I don't have it in me. A team player. Just what I'm looking for, like, a slightly broken Buddy Garrity-type high school Vice Principal who thinks that cars matter. The kind of guy that wants a boat so bad he dreams about it. This is my West Texas upbringing talking: I want a man who's happy to suck barbecue sauce off his fingers even in front of the Queen of England, just to give me something to bitch about on the ride home. And everybody's all, "But he would cry! He would cry and stomp his feet and make strange meaningless graphs!" To which I say, "Let him try that shit at home."
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
I am trying to find a flaw in Jacob's reasoning, but I can't.