Buffy the Vampire Slayer creator Joss Whedon explains why he’s supporting Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney:
So a weird thing happened to me today:
I think I was hit on. I can’t say for sure because I haven’t been hit on in a really long time. I believe the last person who hit on me was my husband, and we’ve been together over 10 years.
I was driving to a Zumba class and stopped at a red light. A truck pulled up beside me in the left hand lane, and the guy in the passenger seat knocked on his door to get my attention. I looked over, and he smiled and wiggled his fingers at me. At first, I thought oh that’s so and so…wait, who is that? Did I know him? Nope. My brain’s facial recognition scan came up short so I asked him, all puzzled-like, “Do I know you?” And he shook his head no and I said “Oh, okay” and the light turned green, and I took off to him shouting “I was being polite.”
Weird right? I am by no means a head turner. I never was, and now that I’m nearing middle age, my interaction with the opposite sex has been mainly of the “here you go, ma’am” kind. I can’t show you what I really look like since I’m all about shielding my true identity on this blog, but I somewhat resemble her:
Well, I was wearing my workout clothes so this best represents what I looked like at the time of the alleged pick up:
Now, I’m not saying I’m blahsville to elicit any “What are you talking about?!? You’re so pretty, You go grrlll!” kind of responses in the comment area (but please post them if you feel an unbelievable urge, and make sure the grrlll has the adequate number of r’s and l’s), I’m painting a realistic picture so you can help me decipher this gonzo interaction. I have a toddler who woke me up at 4:45 this morning, and I look like that happens on a daily basis. I’m also just generally unapproachable because I cover myself in barbed wire to protect against unexpected hugs or spontaneous displays of jocularity.
I’ve never been really good at reacting to pick up lines. In my 20’s I was the girl scowling in the corner, waiting for the cab she called to come pick her up and take her away from the nightmare known as “the club scene.” If a gentleman happened to try his magic line on me, I normally responded with a guffaw and then ran and hid in the ladies room.
So I’m not quite sure what pick-up truck man intended. Was he just being polite? Do people still wave and smile at total strangers just to let them know that we’re all in this soon-to-be zombie apocalypse together? Or was he trying to car jack me?
It is a mystery.
But what I do know is tomorrow I will be doubling up on the barbed wire.
Some questions remain about why a naked man on a Miami causeway tried to rip flesh off another man’s face, according to today’s Miami Herald.
I’m not sure…could that headline be a little bit of an understatement? Maybe. One naked guy attacked another naked man on the MacArthur Causeway, and proceeded to chew his face. Passing motorists tried to get him to stop by honking and yelling things like “Stop!” and “What the fuck am I looking at right now? Did I just wander onto the Walking Dead set?”
A police officer arrived and ordered the man off. A passing bicyclist described the scene like this: “The guy just stood, his head up like that, with pieces of flesh in his mouth. And he growled.”
So yes, I think there might be a few questions that need to be answered.
Police theorized that the attacker suffered from cocaine psychosis, which causes the body to bake internally and would explain why he was naked.
But what about the face-eating? I think, and I feel comfortable speaking for the entire world here, we are a little more concerned about the face-eating part. If I passed by a naked person biting into the face of another naked person, my first thought would not be “Oh my god! They’re naked! The horror! I feel shame for them.”
No. It would be more “Oh my god! That guy is eating that guy’s face!?!”
You see? I didn’t even mention the naked part.
The face-eating. Yes, that’s what we would like explained, and please, let it be an explanation that does not use the word “zombie”.
I may be in the minority here, but I am not a fan of zombies. I don’t like the guttural moaning, the dirty fingernails, the shuffling, the human-eating, the decaying flesh. I don’t like how they seem to find each other and then find your house, and they start to swarm around your front window and beat on the glass and you see a mouse scurry out of the mouth of one and you know they’re seconds away from getting inside and you only have a spatula to protect yourself.
I don’t know if I want to wait the requisite six to eight weeks for the attacker’s autopsy report. I’d rather start preparing myself now.
And thus I present Speaker7’s Zombie Apocalypse-avoiding Checklist™*.
1. Purchase high-end pointy spatulas.
2. Never go to Florida.
3. Remain ignorant of everything at all times.
Things are bleak man.
More children are living in poverty. The unemployed are staying unemployed for longer durations. Kate Plus 8 has been canceled, which will contribute to eight more children living in poverty and one more adult qualifying for unemployment.
But the real reason I’m saying “things are bleak man” is that the horoscope has even become godawful depressing. I don’t normally read my horoscope mainly because I don’t believe every human born within the same month share the same qualities.
Like take Harriet Tubman, a woman who risked her life for freedom and risked it again and again so others could be free. She was a spy in the Civil War and the first female to lead a raid against an enemy camp. She was a Pisces. So is John Stossel. He has a show on Fox News and is known for whining the phrase “Give me a break.” He is a douche.
Or take Mother Teresa who devoted her life to helping the poor and sick in India. She was a Virgo. So is Dr. Phil. Dr. Phil makes his money exploiting the bewildered. And is a giant-headed turd. So is Dr. Drew Pinsky. He’s a Virgo, I mean. His head is normal-sized, and he is a bespectacled turd. And he makes his money exploiting the bewildered who once had some semblance of fame if you consider porn and reality TV as legitimate entertainment careers.
So I don’t put much faith into astrological signs. I’m a Scorpio. So is John Boehner. And Charles Manson. My father and George W. Bush were born on the same day in the same year so they should be pretty similar. Yet my father is actually competent in his job. And he did not fabricate evidence to start an unnecessary war and then later say his most regrettable moment in his presidency was when Kanye West said my father didn’t care about black people. At least I don’t think that happened to him. I will ask him tomorrow and post an editor’s note if I am mistaken.
I know, I know, George W. Bush jokes are sooooo 2008. But I’m a little off today, and my horoscope said I would be. My horoscope told me a big urgent responsibility (i.e. writing my next blog post) that I’d been artfully dodging in hopes that someone else would do it (i.e., Les from Best Bathroom Books, Nancy from Not Quite Old), would be dumped in my lap. And–get this–Me and my lap asked for it. Like, what the &**!^&$#@! horoscope. That is really hostile.
So I checked out the other signs and they were equally belligerent, accusatory and critical.
“If you refuse to go along with the majority, you are likely to create a lot of unnecessary dissension” – Better conform, you goddamn Sagittarius. Don’t be thinking for yourself.
“If you are too indecisive, someone else will make the big decision. Don’t blame them if you don’t like their choice” you $%$!$% spineless piece o’ crap Libra.
“You should take extra precautions when working with tools or materials that you are unfamiliar with” because, frankly Taurus, you are a dumbass and will likely lop off your own head.
And on and on it goes–all bleak.
I’m expecting tomorrow’s will be something like “The zombie apocalypse is upon you.”
I’ll make sure I don’t have any Tauruses with me.