Rainbow Brite the stripper years

Big S — Wed, 12 May 2010 06:58:16 +0000

I think its official. I have gotten old, like my parents got old kind of old, like sit on the porch and yell at passing kids old. I think it may be a combination of crotchety and old age creeping in prematurely. I really am okay with this though. When I was younger and more footloose and fancy free, I remember looking at the old women sitting on their porch as I made my Saturday morning ho walk of shame. I could practically hear the pages fall out of their bibles as I shuffled up the walkway, my t-shirt on inside out and backwards, walking on the bottoms of my worn jeans in my socks with one shoe in my hand and the other one missing (later to be found in the floorboard of someone named Sanchez’s car). I met their judging eyes and gossiping whispers with a huge smile and wave, and their audible gasp greeted me as if to say “yeah you’re a trashy sinning whore and the devil will own your soul one day”. The modern, angry woman may be insulted by this, but all I felt was warm comfort (it didn’t hurt I had gotten laid the night before). I found joy in the thought that one day, I too would sit on my porch and cast judgment on the neighborhood drunks, whores, strippers, soccer moms, cheating fathers and the turntable apartment doors of the young lesbians that I would know so much more than cause I had done it all and made it through alive. I would sit there in the sun with my long braided gray hair, my partner and our horde of cats and dogs and make contemptuous observations and stand in judgment of all that I surveyed. It would be GRAND. I just needed to make it to old age. Who knew that was 34. So with that, let’s begin.

So Rainbow Brite apparently was given a makeover… by a ho. Some asshat at Hallmark decided that the heroine of my youth needed to be sexualized so she would be more acceptable to a younger generation of children that clearly only respond to tramps. What was once our round faced, adorable defender of colors, has now become the bastard child of Barbie’s one night stand with the Justin Timberlake looking doll from the Bratz collection. Lost is the innocent young Wisp who laid the smack down on Murky Dismal, she is replaced with a new sleek, slender Rainbow Brite who looks more at home reading Marie Claire than riding Starlite, who by the way looks like an uppity bitch now. Next thing you know the Star Sprinkles will be replaced by Slut Dust and Red Butler will be wearing assless chaps. And it’s not just her; Strawberry Shortcake got ho’d out too! She no longer smells like Strawberry Shortcake, instead that scent has been replace by *insert pop princess name here* new perfume.

Besides taking a poo on the beloved icons of 80’s youth, what is this doing to kid’s body images? I mean in Strawberry Shortcake we had a homely ginger who could rock just as hard as Barbie and her unrealistic body proportions. She was surrounded by friends and her pets and was generally loved by all she met. She even had a nemesis who would try to steal her berries, The Peculiar Purple Pieman of Porcupine Peak. She would throw a strawberry beating on him and it was all good in Strawberryland.

Okay so… honestly Strawberry Shortcake was a shit cartoon, but the point stands. Do we really have to sexualize everything to appeal to children? Shouldn’t we appeal to them with honesty, integrity, cute little faces, bravery and strength? Children see these cartoons and they want to be these characters. They want the clothes, toys and dolls. They want to wear the star belt and save the world. But to do that do you have to be a small svelte blond bimbo or can I pull it off as a brunette with curly hair that has chubby cheeks? To me children have always been like baking a cake, it’s only as good as the ingredients we use to make it. What do we give them? We give them an unrealistic body image to idolize and strive to become. You may as well give them a chopstick to shove down their throat so they can get used to the purging feeling.

God forbid that Hallmark gets hold of my vision of the old lady on the porch. She will have on a stripper outfit and will look like a 15 year old Asian prostitute.

Tuesday Update- The AARP is watching you, and they are ready.

Big S — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 14:31:37 +0000

So the last few days have been interesting. There is a concern of Cancer; however I cannot worry about that right now. The immediate need is to get his lungs back in order. They drained over a liter of fluid from his right lung and may have to drain more as the week goes on. He is off the ventilator and on a BiPap machine which is the equivalent to deep throating the air compressor you use to pump up your tires. Yesterday everything was good and we were able to talk for a bit. By talk I mean, I talk and he shook his head yes/no. He also started to try to communicate in old country man sign language which, really never goes well. I mean do you know how hard it is to mime “look here now, head past the red barn, by the old tractor, right by where Old Man Barnes fell into the hog pen and them hogs ate him. You know they found his glasses and that is all, but anyhow, go on down there a mile past where your Aunt Sissy stayed at and tell Royce that I am in the hospital and he is going to have to get his own collards in…”.

Today has been a little worse, his blood 02 level tanked this AM so he is on a larger BiPap mask, however the nurse seems to think he should be back on the ventilator. So looks like he is in ICU for a while longer. I hate when he comes off the vent only to go back a day or hour later. It just is so hard on the soul to think, “yay! he is getting better, oh wait, no… crap”. So here is hoping that this one is the last one.

On a more interesting note the old folk network has infiltrated the ICU. I swear to god there is a CIA/KGB version of the AARP. In the last 24 hours two extended family members have shown up as hospital staff. One was the hospital receptionist and the other was the lunch lady. They all had different intel, so clearly the spy branch of the AARP may be good at infiltration, but sucks at intel gathering. One thought he was in a coma, the other old spy lady “heard” he had died “three or four times”. I want to start planting counter intelligence that he actually overdosed on Viagra while at the Foxy Lady.

Also, I have learned to admire and even adore black preachers and deacons. I have come to believe that they are lord’s version of pimps. Think about it, they dress all sorts of badass, they manage a flock, they lay the smack down on the flock when they step out of line and they take “offerings” each week. Pimping for the lord, jump and give a brother a hallelujah… and you better haveThe Lord’s money bitch.

Oh Hell No You Didn't » pimps

Rainbow Brite the stripper years

Tuesday Update- The AARP is watching you, and they are ready.