I'm the real Robert Underdunk Terwilliger, and this is my manifesto, Bart $impson Must Die! (((B.$.M.D.))).
My plan is to eliminate Bart $impson. (I'm also hunting the lifesize Liver Fluke.) And I will begin by deconstructing a bitterly ironic quote, courtesy of a "sweetly laconic," bloated American icon who, in reality, is nothing more than the product of two decades' worth of crass, razor-honed, corporate marketing overkill:
"If there was any justice, my face would be on a bunch of crappy merchandise.†- Homer $impson
Is Matt Groening a genius, a claim repeatedly hammered home (literally) by his public relations handlers at Team Groening/Fox Network? That's subjective, of course. But what is a fact is that nobody in this world has their satirical cake and eats it, too, like Mr. Groening. (Rhymes with Reigning.) Granted, we're ALL hypocrites in this life in hell (the one character flaw Groening has yet to mine for gold, natch), but there's something to be said for knowing when to say when. And there's having your proverbial cake, and eating it, too. But then there's having it, eating it, regurgitating it, manipulating the dumbed-down-yet-supposedly-winking masses into lapping it up, and then having both parties puke it up again, chow down yet again, ad nauseam, if you will. And many of you, mind-boggling as it seemingly never will not be, will. And yet you remain ignorant enough to periodically gush (whenever it's convenient) in faux horror - nay, terror - as to why, exactly, America continues to be so utterly despised. But it's just so easy to do when The $impsons regulary jockey for your brain waves in between Fox News broadcasts, isn't it?
That particular hatred goes far deeper than crude oil lurking beneath foreign soil. In truth, it runs full-circle, right back to the floor under the chair in which your fat asses sit. Try tuning into the snake oil that is your beloved, animated sitcom (off-yellow skin and all) right there on that ridiculously oversized TV taking up half the space in your ultra-comfortable living room. (You should be able to do it in your sleep, sheep.) Then, you can talk to me about "dark comedy." In the meantime, what on earth is so damn funny about a never-ending shit-heap of cheap, plastic, overpriced-yet-sweat-shop-made tie-in merchandise (read: toys), designed, primarily (beyond thickening already absurdly bulging Hollywood wallets) to keep the terminally toddler-esque American pacified? Subversive? Absolutely. Genius? Why not? But genuinely funny?
The Telltale Head. Indeed.
And that, precisely, is why, after 20 long years of mainstream multi-media monopoly, Bart $impson must DIE!
WWGD?
Today's tooth-gnashing rant is brought to you by...the Bruxists: "Life's too short! Death's too long! Brux your teeth after every meme!" And by...the inner child in you!: "It's too late to grow up now, fucker!"
This page is another installment in an ongoing series. Tune in tomorrow - same Brux-time, same Brux-channel!