It’s not unusual to see someone on the internet taking a steaming public dump on Chris Brown these days. Not literally, of course. That would be highly unusual, but universally enjoyable nonetheless. Figuratively shitting on Chris Brown, however, is nothing new or interesting. It’s a joke that we’re all in on, and with good cause. After all, he’s moved up more than a few spots on the scale of public figures that deserve to be shat on ever since Bin Laden was buried at sea and Romney lost the election, only to quietly slither back into the bog from whence he came.
What nobody’s been doing is offering any sort of input on the matter other than the commonly accepted fact that he fucked up really, really badly and a lot of people think he’s a jerk for it. A sentiment that’s been repeated ad nauseam, through varying degrees of coherence and literacy, across all of our many internets.
I’ve decided that I’m going to jump on this bandwagon too, but in my own special way. Instead of just bitching about a certain celebrity and tossing out a few pithy barbs in the process, I’m going to do something constructive, and suggest a fitting punishment while explaining my reasoning and attempting to back up my opinions, while tossing out a few pithy barbs in the process.
So, with my premise adequately elaborated upon, I humbly unveil:
Setting Chris Brown adrift (and 5 other deviously appropriate celebrity punishments)
6.Setting Chris Brown Adrift
For anyone who’s been lost at sea or interred at Guantanamo Bay for the last few years, first off, I’d like to thank you for heading immediately to my article upon returning to civilization. You could have found many sources for abject internet rage, and I appreciate your patronage. Secondly, there’s something you should know. In 2009, on the eve of the Grammy Awards, Singer/Dancer/Street Fighter enthusiast Chris Brown beat the living daylights out of his girlfriend after a heated argument. Unfortunately, this isn’t all that rare of an occurrence among famous people, and in all likelihood the whole thing would have been settled out of court and quietly buried from the tabloids, had he not neglected to realize that his girlfriend just so happened to be Rihanna, who also just so happened to be one of the most famous women in the world. Nasty bit of luck for poor Chris, as within minutes of the incident the entire world was completely aware of the little temper tantrum he’d thrown all over her face.
Above: A substantial PR boo-boo.
Naturally, people were not pleased. For the last four years, he’s been the subject of an endless guerilla campaign to keep him perpetually reminded of his mistake and painfully aware that a great many folks are refusing to just forgive and forget. Strangely enough, not among those still holding a grudge is Rihanna, who has since made amends with him it would seem, despite having been the swollen, discolored face that sent the warships from port to begin with.
Stockholm syndrome aside, he deserves the heat he gets. As far as I’m concerned he doesn’t get enough. Sure he’s been openly insulted by fellow celebrities like Jay-Z and Pink, and yeah the barrage of attacks on social media sites were so relentless that it led him to deactivate his Twitter account temporarily, but there’s still something about the whole situation that makes me feel like he doesn’t fully appreciate the consequences of his actions, and I think I know what it is.
It’s that he just plain isn’t sorry for it. That’s the absolute worst part of the whole fiasco. If anything he’s mad at us for remembering. How dare we bring up his insanely public domestic abuse incident that happened a whole four years ago? It’s ancient history now, right? Let bygones be bygones, and all that. I guess he was counting on our short attention spans flitting out long before they actually did, letting him return to a life of undeserved prestige and highly overrated creative ability.
Since ‘Breezy’ seems convinced that we should all just leave him alone, I think we should do just that. Let’s strip him of his fame. This should apply to any celebrity that shamelessly violates a basic code of human decency without remorse. He simply shouldn’t be famous anymore. Will the world miss his music? Some people probably would, yes. Is it worth forgoing whatever future contributions to the cultural zeitgeist he might have churned out to have one less spineless misogynist’s smug, unrepentant face on TV screens across the world? Super-fucking-ultra-yes.
The very fact that this man hasn’t been dragged through the streets and pelted with rotting produce is a fucking travesty. The notion that he’s still influencing young people is a literal crime against humanity. The idea that someone could so brazenly and savagely rearrange a woman’s face in front of the entire world and go on to have a hit single with any self-respecting artist speaks volumes of our willingness to look past atrocities and sweep heinous acts under the rug as long as the person responsible was popular and successful.
Well I say fuck that, not only should we all forget his name and openly discourage people from supporting him, but we should take it a step further. We should Henry Hudson that insufferable motherfucker and set his ass adrift on the open seas, dooming him to the obscurity and isolation that a woman beating bastard-shit-fuck deserves.
Donald Trump is a world class, Olympic level, supernaturally gifted piece of crap. He’s the freaking Rain Man of bullshit declarations and hair-brained publicity schemes.
I use the term ‘hair-brained’ quite literally. His hair has a brain, and it’s controlling his actions.
Over the course of his stay as celebrity laughingstock/pretend financial mogul, The Donald has made some seriously hapless decisions with regards to his opinions, actions, and general existence. I could fill the entire internet if I were to sit here and list his logged forays into the utter-fuckwit department, so here’s a link to just a few of the reasons he sucks instead and here’s a list of stupid things he’s said just recently, for good measure.
Long story short, he’s a pretty big tool when it comes to just about everything. Most recently, his apparent sub-human intellect has led him to publicly demand that President Barack Obama present his full birth certificate, oblivious to the fact that delusional road-kill-haired loons don’t have the authority to make such outrageous requests of the President of the United States of America. Being the slick, happenin’ cat that he is, Obama casually laughed the whole thing off, sniping a few pithy yet tastefully clean jabs his way at the White House correspondents’ dinner, further securing the votes of everyone logical enough to see that Trump ranks somewhere between Gary Busey and Tom Cruise on the celebrity insane-o-meter.
Did the public humiliation of being mocked by the leader of the free world stop ol’ Donald’s campaign for his specific and highly questionable flavor of truth? Not a chance. Clearly unfazed, Trump went on to offer Obama five million dollars for the charity of his choosing to make with the ‘long-form’ birth certificate and citizenship documents, effectively cementing his role as the entire world’s village idiot.
Seizing the moment with masterful aplomb, comedian, fake pundit and subversive antagonist extraordinaire Stephen Colbert saw his opening and took the opportunity to counter his demand by offering Trump one million dollars to suck his balls, a move that was generally regarded as freakin’ awesome by pretty much everyone that wasn’t The Donald.
For years Donald Trump has been staining the proverbial rugs of society with crazy like an untrained Pomeranian soaks the kitchen floor with urine. My proposed disciplinary action is as simple as it is thoroughly effective. Let’s strap him to a chair, prop his eyes open, and run an unending reel of his gaffes and foot-in-mouth moments.
Like this, but instead of ultra-violence, he’d be watching clips of his own profound unintelligence.
I know what you’re thinking. “He’d probably enjoy that!” You’re right, maybe he would. For a few days, maybe even a couple weeks. Let’s flash forward a few months, though. How would he feel after listening to himself drone on, and on, and on? At the absolute most he might even last up to a year, but at some point he’s bound to tire of hearing his own voice, and sooner or later the sudden revelation of who he really is will crush him like an insect under the weight of his own ignorance.
Only when he is broken, defeated, and stripped of all but an emotionally destructive, existentially overwhelming sense of absolute humility and shame will he understand how the rest of the world feels when he opens his mouth.
4,Sending the Kardashians to the Salt Mines
Everybody knows who the Kardashian sisters are, it’s impossible to go outside without seeing one of their bronzed, boob-tacular images smeared across a billboard or television or magazine. They’re plastered all over the walls of civilization like North Korean propaganda posters. What nobody seems to know is why we know who these women are. Well, being the inquisitive, precocious and totally-for-serious journalist that I am, I did some research into the matter and discovered exactly how they found their fame.
So basically, Kim Kardashian is the daughter of Robert Kardashian, who older readers may remember as O.J Simpson’s friend and defense attorney during all that ugly murder business he got himself into a great many years ago. Kim’s mother Kris Jenner was also on and off with Olympic gold medalist and legendary set of cheekbones Bruce Jenner. So essentially, she was born on the outskirts of fame, and just as her family’s relevance was circling the drain, she was involved in a now-famous Sex tape scandal with previously obscure singer Ray J, instantly catapulting her to fame in the worst possible way anyone can get catapulted into anything.
Namely: Naked, poorly lit, and getting plowed by a washed up hip hop artist.
Rather than doing the logical thing and burying their heads in the sand until everyone forgot, the Kardashian clan dove on the media like American war heroes dive on grenades. It started with the main extensions of her family making statements, slowly gaining popularity, and eventually hitting the Reality TV circuit, but quickly spread to epidemic proportions, reaching such a level that anyone who’s ever been in the same room as Kim now has a TV show, a clothing line, and a new fragrance coming out next fall.
Above: A failed government experiment to weaponize vaginas
So to sum that up for you, The Kardashian Sisters earned their fame by riding the coat-tails of their sister’s home-made pornography, which gained its popularity from the withering notoriety of her parents, who achieved their celebrity by defending a murderer and boning an Olympian, respectively. Let me summarize that further: These bitches did absolutely nothing and got famous as balls for it.
I’ll concede that this isn’t the worst celebrity infraction out there, not by a longshot. In fact, as irritating as their media saturation can be, the Kardashian sisters are relatively benign. That is, if you consider indoctrinating an entire generation of young women with the idea that fucking your way to success and carrying a false sense of entitlement through life is a bulletproof and completely socially acceptable way to get to the top ‘benign’. But hey, what female pop-culture icon isn’t doing that these days?
The only real problem aside from that is that they don’t deserve a goddamn thing. These are women who go through life under the impression that they’re important and valuable to society when literally all they’ve done is be born, wear clothes, and tweet a lot. It’s just plain unfair to think of how many other, more respectable individuals spend their entire lives working themselves to the bone to earn a semblance of the notoriety they’ve gained by simply existing.
So I propose that we put these girls to work. After all, they’re living a lifestyle of exorbitant luxury and privilege, and in a perfect world that status would be reserved exclusively for those who have earned it. So let’s make the world a little more perfect and send those vapid, spoiled, hyper-sexualized sisters to the salt mines.
The point is we should get these girls sweaty, dirty, and bent over in a way that won’t excite teenage boys the world over, if for no other reason than to make them appreciate the genetic lottery ticket they’ve all won. It doesn’t have to be a salt mine specifically, maybe a longshoreman gig, or any strenuous back breaking labour job guaranteed to clog pores, break nails, frizz hair, destroy clothes and most importantly instil a desperately needed appreciation of how the other half lives because if I have to do it, goddamnit, why the Brazilian-waxed hell shouldn’t they? It’s called reality, Kardashians, and it sucks serious butthole.
To be concluded next week.