The Revenge of Katy Perry

If there's one thing that everybody knows, it's that children ruin everything. Just ask Susan Smith. They smell funny and make a mess when they eat. They can't hold their liquor, they don't know anything about politics, they choke if you give them a cigarette, and god help everyone if you try to tell them a particularly saucy fuck story.

I can't for the life of me figure out why anyone bothers with the snotty little bastards. If it was up to me, they'd all be deported to Syria and not allowed to come back until they turn 25.

This was all driven home by Katy Perry's catastrophic appearance on Sesame Street last week. If nothing else, we learned that Sesame Workshop, Jim Henson Productions and PBS all have some unexplainable and terrifying allergy to superior hooters. It's almost like reverse eugenics and it would frankly make me fear for the future if I wasn't going to be dead soon, anyway. The only difference between last week and today is that I now embrace my eventual demise instead of fear it.

I don't know when these people became so determined to protect the goddamned children from everything that's truly beautiful in life, but it leaves me convinced that Barack Obama was lying and that Hope is as dead as Nietzsche said God is. I'm so tired of being surrounded by the enemies of beauty but I remain too furious to give up the fight.

If the producers of Sesame Street had any sense of aesthetics, they'd have shot Ms. Perry wearing nothing but a bra and panties and delivering her little song on a trampoline. Or wrestling Jessica Simpson. But they don't and the leaders of tomorrow won't even enjoy the timid scene that was shot.

To the best of my knowledge, Elmo doesn't have discernible sex organs at all. But if he saw Saturday Night Live this weekend, he does. I just saw it myself and I'm here to tell you that my mighty putz is ready to tear through my pants and start slapping you all about the head and shoulders as my testicles shudder and quake, full to the brim with liquid justice.

Who am I kidding? I can't lie to any of you. I'm not wearing any pants.

There's just something about a pretty brunette with big, fat titties - freed from the terrible oppression of a brassiere - that reminds me that there's still something tragic about the fact that we're all doomed. From time to time it's important to realize that the collapse of society might actually cost us something worthwhile. We need to know that the whole world really isn't Bishop Eddie Long and the entire Catholic Church.

My only regret is that something this spectacular was relegated to the banal and ugly cabaret of boredom that Saturday Night Live has become since 1993. Some things are so important that they require a more fitting venue, like an Oval Office address.

However, I always try to let you make up your own minds about such things. Hopefully, the barbarians at NBC Universal don't force YouTube to take this down in five minutes because Hulu isn't available outside of the United States.




Special thanks to The Superficial and The Moderate Voice.

Update: If YouTube screws me, I'll screw them back! This should work just fine This is just too important for you to miss.






And look! A bouncy, bouncy gif! Thanks to What Would Tyler Durden Do

Fuck! If any of you know how to make gifs work in blogger, I'd surely appreciate your help.