[Home] [Headlines] [Latest Articles] [Latest Comments] [Post] [Sign-in] [Mail] [Setup] [Help]
Status: Not Logged In; Sign In
|
Health See other Health Articles Title: When Pink Turns Red Whew! We’ve survived another October with its onslaught of pink ribbons. Imagine October before the medical-industrial complex turned it into a spool of Pepto-Bismol bows. What a magnificent month of refreshingly brisk days and particolored leaves, cider and woodsmoke! Yet our degenerate age desecrates these glorious weeks with an orgy of national vulgarity and endless emphasis on the most obvious portion of the female anatomy. As always when civilization marches into the sewer, Leviathan led it there. Not only does the “Executive Office of the President” threaten to steal our money “because cancer” (though perhaps the puerile among us welcome the change from “because Nat Sec”), but the Department of Health and Human Services exploits the disease as well. Good thing no one told the guys at Valley Forge, “Hey, you’re freezing your buns off so the Feds can one day shamelessly ‘proclaim’ their interest in bosoms and even more shamelessly tax us up the wazoo.” What supine slaves Americans have become! Half is so lost to simple decency that they not only tolerate but expect Our Rulers to obsess on their chests, while the other half is so lost to liberty that they finance this insult to their wives and daughters. Alas, most of society is onboard. From “charities” to churches, incredibly enough, we seldom escape the bawdy barrage. The Susan G. Komen Foundation itself admits, “Whether you are a golfer, a bowler, a chef or a runner,” you can “experience an event” that skewers your attention to mammilla (and, coincidentally no doubt, empties your pockets on the Foundation’s behalf). Abducting Arnold--A No... Becky Akers Check Amazon for Pricing. Nor does the market offer relief: companies vie to donate various percentages of their profits to The Cause and, worse, ballyhoo their largesse. Customers can buy everything from pink flip-flops at forty big ones a pop (dang! And here I paid a buck a pair at an end-of-season sale) to earrings apparently custom-made for Fauxcahontas (and, at $125, a trinket only corrupt politicians can afford) to the inevitable rose-colored glasses. Shopaholics must love The Cause for justifying their extravagance. Most dismaying of all, whole denominations of churches depart from Scripture’s commandment of modesty. But the Lord never grants an exemption for October, even if thy government doth. A Baptist website does caution that since this “cancer deals with an intimate part of the body, any conversation about [it] can be taboo,” especially since “[a] majority of churches have male clergy…” Would that it were “taboo”! Instead, October enables Americans to disguise lechery as altruism. However much the hype stimulates our baser instincts, few folks object since “raising awareness” supposedly saves lives. But it doesn’t. In fact, all these tacky efforts haven’t preserved much of anything but overstuffed libidos. True, fatalities from this type of cancer are now declining after steadily increasing from 1940-1990. But it still kills more victims than it did in 1930, when modesty and circumspection restrained social interactions and walking the streets wasn’t an exercise in embarrassment. Indeed, behind even the most irrelevant or tear-jerking PSA is—wink, wink—a part of the body that should be off-limits in any public discussion, particularly when the company’s mixed. Yes, much “raising” of “awareness” is understated or clinical. But these vague messages bore the first hole in the dyke, enabling narcissists and exhibitionists to flaunt themselves [WARNING: barf alert]. “A topless, singing Serena Williams [told you] reminds women to examine their breasts in a poignant [sic for ‘nauseating’] new video released for Breast Cancer Awareness Month. The professional tennis player left her ‘comfort zone’ and recorded a cover of the Divinyls’ hit ‘I Touch Myself’ for the project…” Oh, I’ll bet her “comfort zone” is far more capacious than ol’ Serena pretends and that she’s still smack in the middle of it, with or without clothing. Regardless, her “reminder” with its nudity and double-entendres is outright pornography. Might I suggest to her fans, if any there be, that you give this pathetic tramp more attention? She’s clearly starved for it. Astoundingly, the UK surpasses this debauchery. CoppaFeel! urges girls too young to know better to out-Serena Serena—but of course only “with the aim of instilling the knowledge and tools they need to get to know their bodies. We like to talk about a serious message in a light-hearted [sic for ‘obscene’] way, empowering people to start healthy habits for life.” Is it me, or do these hussies hide behind the same rationalization of “healthy openness” as Larry Flynt? Back in the Land of the Brave and Depraved, raunchiness has seeped far beyond the allegedly medical to every aspect of American culture (and beyond lovely October, too: the pink ribbons don’t disappear on Hallowe’en). “Medical porn” isn’t the sole tributary to the contemporary cesspool, but it probably legitimizes more smut for more people than other methods. Halestorm--A Novel of ... Becky Akers Check Amazon for Pricing. Aside from our fallen nature, why this ceaseless shove towards the prurient? In a word, Marxism. Wallowing in carnality ravages privacy and innocence. And since those twins provide a refuge from Leviathan, totalitarians must eradicate them. Never forget Mussolini’s “doctrine of the State”: “…everything in the state, nothing against the State, nothing outside the state.” That includes your body and sexuality no less than your mind and will. Despots benefit enormously from convincing us to strip naked, physically and emotionally, in public, as if there’s nothing special or private about our bodies nor about the exclusivity that spouses alone should share. Rather than the nurturing coziness of marriage, they hope we’ll settle for a coarse “intimacy” with everyone that destroys any hint of romance or mystery between the sexes. Such public familiarity weds us to the commune rather than our families. Am I suggesting we return to those Dark Ages when Americans satisfied their concupiscence with Playboy rather than the nearest billboard? You bet I am. Let’s shun those so ill-bred that they publicize, capitalize on, or gossip about subjects under the guise of “raising awareness” that formerly shocked and scandalized. Let’s restore propriety to our respective corners of the country even if they continue sullying theirs. And it goes without saying that we never contribute to any of their “charities,” nor buy products that do, especially since the conventional research and treatment they sponsor actually exacerbates rather than eradicates this disease. If enough of us renounce the medical porn killing both body and soul, perhaps one fine day October won’t be such a bust. Post Comment Private Reply Ignore Thread
|
||
|
[Home]
[Headlines]
[Latest Articles]
[Latest Comments]
[Post]
[Sign-in]
[Mail]
[Setup]
[Help]
|
||