Posts Tagged ‘Sesame Street’
Bloggers get lazy towards the end of the year. Select any tag topic at random right now, and you’ll be overwhelmed by a plethora of pieces that have “top”, “resolutions” or “2011” in the title. It seems that everyone in the blogosphere is either resolving their ass off or making a list of their Top [insert number between 1 and 6,914] [insert generic cliché – preferably movies, albums or kitten names] of 2011. A few bloggers are, thankfully, churning out fresh articles, but the majority seem content with reposting their favourite pieces of the year and then attempting to persuade their readers that it’s amazing new work. I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but it’s not. Literally publishing just the links to your ten best posts and then signing off with a corny festive season greeting isn’t entertaining, it’s boring. If you don’t have anything fresh to write about, don’t write; your readers would prefer you didn’t post inane, generic drivel each day just so you can convince yourself that you write daily.
Author’s note: the latter is why 365 day challenges have the potential to annoy the fuck out of everyone.
So, now that my beer and vodka-fuelled vociferation has concluded, I’m going to share with you a few new search terms that people have found The Dissemination of Thought with. While I’m fully aware it’s something I’ve touched on before, today we’re examining new stuff that people have looked for in the past three weeks. It’s a rehashed idea with fresh search phrases, so it’s technically new material, which officially makes this an original post and me less of a whinging hypocrite.
peter griffin naked
Everyone has issues; some people’s problems are just a lot worse than yours. If you ever think you can’t sink any lower into despair, just remember: at least you didn’t google a guy with balls for a chin in naked poses.
kelloggs shirazco pop
This search phrase is a little disconcerting, considering I only coined the name “Shirazco Pops” a week or two prior to writing this piece. Are Kellogg’s trying to pass my breakfast cereal and red wine masterpiece off as its own creation? Is there a chance they are preparing to make me an offer I can’t refuse? If it turns out to be the former, this means war; if it’s the latter, The Dissemination of Thought will cease to exist four seconds after their cheque clears.
my boyfriend thinks engagement rings are a ripoff and doesnt want to buy one
Whoever typed this into a search engine needs to run the fuck away from their frugal boyfriend as quickly as possible. While there is a chance the boyfriend just has no desire to propose to someone who uses Google like a Magic 8 Ball, the smart bet is on him using the ring money to finance an engagement jet ski.
sesame street the count snorts cocaine
What the fuck? Because there are so many things wrong with this, I’m not even sure where to start. Is there a Sesame Street spin-off that no one’s aware of called Blowin’ with Big Bird and Bert? Does Grover do a good deal on a kilo of coke? On a positive note, given that Count von Count is a puppet and has a felt nose, it’s unlikely that he would ever succumb to a perforated nasal septum.
Welcome to The Dissemination of Thought in 2012: I can’t wait to see what search terms the next twelve months bring.
At some stage this morning, someone clicked on The Dissemination of Thought for the 500th time. While it may not seem like an astronomical number in the overall scheme of things, it surprised me a little bit. When I originally began TDoT, it was meant to serve no other purpose than to record random – and often incredibly abstract – musings for my own benefit. But people began to read it, and the evidence would suggest that some of you actually enjoy doing so. Personally, I’m a little disappointed that we’ve reached five-hundred views without any hate mail or death threats. Given that we’ve come this far, I should probably celebrate by writing something worthy of a Walkley, but I’m not going to. Instead, we are going to discuss Sesame Street and breasts.
The argument about marriage equality reached a ridiculous new level this week, with the launch of an online petition, the main objective of which is to convince the powers that be at Sesame Street that Bert and Ernie have been living in sin for far too long, and that wedding bells should be heard in the not too distant future. While I strongly advocate same-sex marriage, this is farcical, and I’ve identified two main issues that stand in the way of a union between Bert and Ernie.
Issue 1: Bert and Ernie aren’t actually gay.
While everyone seems to assume that they are partners, it’s not actually the case. Sesame Workshop released a statement saying “Bert and Ernie are best friends” and that they were “created to teach preschoolers that people can be good friends with those who are very different from themselves.” Essentially, people have seen two characters of the same sex who are great friends, and decided that the gay label fits. Why? For some, it helps to promote a cause. For others, it’s just easier to throw an ignorant, blanket label on something, without determining whether or not the label is justified. People can infer what they want from how Bert and Ernie interact, but they haven’t been developed as gay characters, so in my book, they aren’t. Yeah, they share a bedroom, and at times, a bed, but that proves nothing. Hell, they don’t seem to have jobs, so sharing a small apartment with one bedroom is obviously going to be the most cost-effective way to live.
Issue 2: Has anyone noticed that they are puppets?
This is an important point, so pay attention. Bert and Ernie are fucking puppets. They spend their days with someone’s hand up their asses. While I’m sure that there’s an incredibly inappropriate joke in there somewhere, everyone seems to have lost sight of the fact that Bert and Ernie are basically nothing more than foam, felt and other puppety materials. Yes, I am aware that puppety isn’t a real word. No, I don’t care – it sounds cool. A puppet is a tool of entertainment, and more importantly, an inanimate object. As such, it doesn’t have a sexual orientation, unless it has been developed as part of its character. Had the creators of Sesame Street cultivated Bert and Ernie as being gay, I couldn’t wait to see Elmo be the ring bearer at their wedding.
Lisa: Dad, what’s a Muppet?
Homer: Well, it’s not quite a mop and it’s not quite a puppet…
When I’m wrong, I’m usually really wrong. When I wrote about the perils of amateur tattooing back in October, I naturally assumed that ”penis” and “tattoo” were going to be the strangest words that I ever got to use in the same sentence. And they probably would have remained so, had The New York Times decided not to publish a story about the octogenarian who got a boob job. Stop the press, we have a new winner. Apparently cosmetic surgery is all the rage amongst those enjoying their golden years, including Californian great-grandmother, Marie Kolstad.
In all seriousness, this shouldn’t be a newsworthy story. Apart from the shock value of picturing breasts from the era of penicillin discovery, who fucking cares what someone decides to do with their own body? How many breast augmentations are done daily without global media coverage? A twenty-something friend of mine had one performed years ago, and when she came out of surgery, there wasn’t a solitary journalist to be seen. So what’s different? Age. We can’t seem to embrace the notion that people of the same vintage as our parents and grandparents want to look good and feel great about themselves. If these older individuals want to seize – or possibly rediscover – their sexuality, more power to them – I’d just prefer not to read about or imagine it. Regardless of age, people have the ability to be viewed as sexual beings, with clearly defined sexual orientations, unlike puppets.
So here we are, at the conclusion of this inane post. You made it. One can only hope that when The Dissemination of Thought pushes past 1,000 views, we won’t be philosophising about puppet nuptials or repressing the thought of 83-year-old nipples. Speaking of the latter, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and assume foetal position in the bathroom with a bottle of vodka.