Today is the day the world reaches the ultimate degree of retardation.  At least until it gets dumber tomorrow.  Yet I’m giving it points for the sheer novelty of its fuckheaded retardedness.

            The following, in non-chronological order, have literally made me hold my head in my hands.  This wasn’t in a showy way… or a clichéd way… it was actually a physical reflex.

            Scented tampons.

            Why?  Why the fuck?  Why did they have to get dumber than scented toilet paper?
           
            Scented toilet paper was stupid enough.  It pained me to think that scientists actually worked on making it emit a quick waft of vanilla before we wiped our faeces on it. 

            Now it seems we have the scented tampon.  There is officially nothing left to scent in the world.  Nothing.

            Why?  Why would you do this?  It must be a man’s idea… it can only be a man’s idea…  There’s just so many terrifying things that rise to the surface when you analyse this… rise to the surface like a drowned fat person.

            I shall attempt to work out the logic bit by bit. 

            Pro:  Your minge will be slightly scented in much the same way as middle-aged people’s bathrooms. 

            Con:  If you need a fucking scented tampon to mask any smells down there… really… just bleach it.

            Pro:  Your minge will be slightly scented in much the same way as the sawdust used to clean up sick at theme parks.

            Con:  When people are near you and they smell Eau De Mingemask they will instantly realise you’re on the rag.  This, in all honesty, is rarely something anybody wants to know unless (see next con)…

            Pro:  Your minge will be slightly scented in much the same way as a recently cleaned crime scene.

            Con:  Do you want to send a gigantic… excuse the term… red flag… to the poor dumb bastard buying you booze?  Unless you happen to have a particularly winning personality… (less than likely at this time of the month)...  you’re likely to have to buy the second round yourself.  On the plus side you’ll only need to buy one drink.

            Pro:  If someone is gentlemanly and goes down there he’ll be greeted by a pleasant mountain smell.

            Con:  He will lose interest the moment he gets down there unless he has severe problems.

            Pro:  It reduces the chance of him getting a piece of string caught between his teeth and both of you having a further awkward moment.

            Con:  In reality, you might as well roll up a tramp’s pissed on mattress and stuff it up there.  The smell is not the problem.  Really… we don’t want to ever come in contact with either. 
           
            Pro:  It will fool opportunistic vampires.

            I may be missing something as I don’t have a vagina.  But really… take advantage of the fact that we want nothing to do with it for a few days… ease up… you wear ridiculous pants during this “period” of time… just save the extra 50p and stick a chip up there for all I care.

            Smell… the male perspective.
           
            Also annoying is the continuation of the Lynx “whore in a can” deodorant commercials.  The only way Lynx significantly improves your chances of getting tasty women is by spraying it in their eyes and leading them home while they’re blind.

             I have no idea who the fuck these adverts are meant to appeal to other than the masturbating deluded and the masturbating housewife.  And really… thirty seconds?  Just make it five seconds and put up a big sign saying “don’t feel guilty, it’s not like anyone saw you” for the other twenty-five.

             Look… I know I suck… I can’t even get whores out the back of the paper because I get nervous on the phone and forget what I was calling about… Plus I’m all too aware that the returns policy involves having your face cut by a pimp.  I am also aware that I’m probably in roughly the same physical group as the majority of people watching Jurassic Fucking Park 2 with the sound off on a Sunday.

            I couldn’t listen to Vince Vaughn speak anymore.

            I look wretched at the best of times.  When naked I resemble a cross between a mole person and recovering smackhead.  Why are you showing me a naked man with washboard abs walking around slapping people with a towel to impress models?  If, on the off-chance, I tried anything like that I would be wrestled to the ground by a policeman and have to suffer the indignity of being the only one they don’t romantically violate in prison.

            Stop preying on us you evil corporate fucks…  We know we cry ourselves to sleep because we suck rather than smell.  Tarzan got laid and he must have smelt like monkey shit and elephant piss… although, ironically, those may well be the key ingredients in Lynx.

            Oh, and Jurassic Park 2… only watched because my remote doesn’t fucking work at its own convenience…  Vince Vaughn seems oddly proud he’s removed the bullets from Pete Postlethwatite’s gun, yet, of course, with a tiny hint of remorse that it had to come to that… 

            Judging by the close-up I’m meant to empathise and feel that it was a necessary action.  Yes… you’re noble… you saved the dinosaur… by almost killing Pete… The dinosaur then went and ate a lot of people. 

            I want the final scene of the film being CGI elderly mothers and young children kicking Vince Vaughn in the fucking nuts because they’ve lost the only family they had. 

            I’m less angry about it being ridiculous anti-cruelty PETA horseshit… no… I’m pissed off about it because EVERYONE FORGETS HE DID IT.  I’m sorry, after they let all those mink go and they ate the weasels or whatever… if anyone had gone “I released a mink” a week before… I’d get right on the phone and rub their fucking face in irony…  I’d take it as a chance to point out they’re a sanctimonious wanker.

            However… a FUCKING DINOSAUR eats people… do we get Vince Vaughn looking sheepish?  No, he just fucks off.  The only lessons we learn are that killing giant fake killing machines is bad and that gymnastics is a legitimate form of self-defence.
            “Let’s not rob him… motherfucker’s using that dustbin as a makeshift pommel-horse.”

            There… only ten years late on that one.

           
            Even less current…  I watched at least a third of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles the Movie.   It wasn’t a continuous third.   There are severe gaps in my recollection.   I also haven’t been sleeping and appear to be experiencing that same sense of exhaustion that often occurs while trapped in a room with someone far more stoned than you for the evening.  You just want to go to bed but you can’t because it’ll mean you wake up four hours before the first train home and be forced to sit around making very little noise in case you wake them.

            Now, I’m aware that this is the single most pointless thing to get annoyed about other than it being a bit hot… but fucking hell…  I know you’re a shitty fifteen year old children’s movie only made to cash in on a retarded fad… but… fuck… no… fuck… no… fuck… no… fuck… no… fuck… no…

            I’d imagine if you’re a fucking student who watches every single fucking movie ‘ironically’ (read stoned but fucking stupid to begin with and in a room with equally insufferable air-quote beardy long-hairs) it’s a blast. 

            My logic, however, is sleep-deprived and exceedingly inconsistent.
As is my memory.

            I remember that there was an evil after-school club that the bad people were luring ‘vulnerable’ teenagers into.  However, they weren’t molesting them or enslaving them but instead they were turning them into ninjas…  After all, even the evilest of sequin-jumpsuit-wearing samurai would fail to find a single person in the movie attractive.  Every kid looked thirty and had hair like Ron Howard.  The most rebellious one had a little beard on a pointy chin that made him look like a cross between a musketeer and a midget’s cunt.

            The den of evil was actually modelled on the last semen stain to be found on Ronald Reagan’s sheets.  It managed to combine the four great evils – smoking, video games, gambling and skateboarding.          Only the skateboarding and video games made me think they should chuck a fucking petrol bomb in there.  I saw no fire exits.

            Three things though…

1.  The smoking…

The big scene that is meant to make us fully grasp the irresponsible evil is a kid asking “you have smokes?” and the midgetcuntfacedkid looking shocked and holding up two cartons of cigarettes.  “Regular or menthol?” he asks… HE IS EVIL.  Although, as far as I can tell, mainly for offering cigarettes so generic and unlabeled that I suspect that they’re probably those bad Russian mail-order ones.

I do delight in the fact that, while cigarettes are evil, they don’t want to piss off the advertisers.  If I was a cigarette company I would wear killing those teenagers as a badge of honour.  I’d admit it on my myspace page if I was a self-harming gothy cigarette company.

Oh, and a midget pretending to be a child was smoking a cigar.  That creeped me out.

1. The gambling…

How better to show the vice than un-taxed gambling.  Oh… one thing… probably best not to portray it by showing a bunch of ten year olds playing roulette.  

Really…

Just show them putting a fiver on a game of Hungry, Hungry Hippos.  Nothing under three feet has ‘a system’.  They would just lose the fucking ball.  They always lose the fucking ball.

Oh, there was also a poker game… which featured the longest ever pause between someone showing their cards and the losers slamming their hands dramatically on the table.  It was a good four minutes before they noticed the director’s frantic miming.

1. No drinking… No drugs… No whores.

Really… come on… why not just have a church in there as well.

Please… have some fucking balls…  Let’s have the kids injecting heroin into their right eyeball while tipping shots into the other.

And while most of them would not have any idea what to do with a whore…  You can still have them standing about.  I would have liked that when I was young.  It would have confused me but at least I’d have been able to tell great stories that began with “They wouldn’t play Connect 4 with me because of my asthma so the whore played with me instead…”  If you leave the end of that ambiguous… you sound cool.

The icing on the cake was just how tortuously uncomfortable everyone looked. 

Really… if you get the whores and the rest in and get rid of the skateboarders screaming when they break their arms and the beep of Ms Fucking Pacman…  Then I’d join your ninja clan.

Oh… and at one point I was fairly sure I was meant to be empathising with a little mechanical rat because it got an ear chopped off with a sword before it was mutated into a large mechanical rat.  The moment when it sadly caressed its dead owners arm like that Ewok did when the other one got its shit all fucked up…  I broke inside.

The only other bit I remember is at the end when the bad guy in the shiny hat falls into a dumptruck and the comic relief turns on the crusher.  The scruffy fuck actually goes “whoops” as he crushes the incapacitated opponent.
Now, as far as I can tell, the bad guys never actually killed anyone and didn’t really do anything other than beat up guys in rubber suits… Oh, and provide inner-city kids with some activities so they didn’t go near drink, drugs or whores. 
Crushing them when they’ve just hurt themselves falling off a roof seems a bit harsh.  Making a weak joke about it just seems “cunty”.

There have been other things that have confused me today yet they have all blurred into one stream of pure retardation and been injected into my soul. 

            I’m aware that maybe the first twenty paragraphs of this may offend some women… but, three things… I’m tired and you’re not going to touch me anyway… and it’s your fucking fault for creating the demand.  You don’t hear us screaming for pine-scented prostate examinations do you?  Let’s just keep it all to ourselves and stop freaking me out.
            HIDE YOUR SHAME WOMAN.

            Remember… The Bible says you should fuck off into the desert once a month…  I’m just saying maybe one or two parts of that book make sense…  Well… the desert bit and the bit when Jesus jumps the motorcycle over the fence to escape the Nazis.

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