And don’t call me Shirley.

admit it, you’d do him in the back of a Camaro too

I could not, would not, in a Camaro -
Nor even in a used Ranchero.
I couldn’t & wouldn’t: I’m not gay!
My garden-gate does not swing that way.

I dunno. Have you and your sibling’s sex partners ever had sex together? In various combinations?

If so, start looking for Tori in the near vicinity…

I was a pre-teen when the republicans and their media minions put Bill Clinton’s private business all over the news and my poor mortified parents had to explain it to me.

It isn’t just godless Hollywood liberals who put this stuff on TV. At least 90210 is something that is geared toward an older audience and not supposed to be for the whole family (like, say, the NEWS).

And to think, I may not know about oral sex to this day if not for republicans! Damn them for my lost innocense!

He could at least pretend to be interested in what we’re doing.

I thought of that when I wrote it and wondered who would be the first to comment. ;-)

~~~~~~~~

It’s always hilarious to me how oblivious these tools are that they’re saying more about their high-school ostracism than anything else when they “write” these sputteringly indignant screeds.

Even more amazingly, they apparently eat supper based on GMT and irrrespective of the actual time in their local time zone.

This dates to the early days of TV dinners, before microwave dishes and satellites. TV dinners were mostly made in New York, by the long-forgotten DelMonte network. 3 p.m. was too early for the West Coast folks to eat dinner, so the food would be reheated* for them. But Central and Mountain folks had to eat their TV dinners at 6 p.m. Eastern.

If you think that’s a pain, you should read about the way soap was distributed to housewives each morning..

* By the way, this is why California pizza is so thin. There was no time to wait for the dough to rise before carrying it across the deserts of Nevada, as it is said: “They baked the dough that they took out of [Ray's Famous Original Pizza], for it was not leavened, since they were driv[ing] out of [Manhattan] and could not delay.”

Erm, or so I’ve been told. I was usually in the cafeteria, eating my hot lunch and studying for my afternoon classes . . .

Obviously, this show is high on over-the-top shock and low on authenticity if it thinks that in broad daylight, at school bus-unloading time, teenage boys are having sex in the driver’s seat of their cars.

So the eighties were more rockin’ than today?

And, actually, on the bus. I guess li’l Brent never got to go on field trips.

No, that’s not what he’s saying. He’s saying that all across America, happy nucular families gather round the dinner table at 6 pm on the dot, as soon as Dad gets home from work (and God help Mom if dinner isn’t on the table!), and that as soon as the meal is done at 7 pm on the dot, the teenagers all hustle into the den and plop themselves onto the couch, slack-jawed in their postprandial stupor, to watch TV tuned to the Fail Network (whichever one it is). Because THAT’S WHAT AMERICA IS ALL ABOUT.

And now those stupefied teens will learn about blow jobs, which they would never have even known about without those goddam Hollywood elites and their lousy remakes of formerly popular crap.

the one he carries in his imagination is a 50s rerun

ALL of their imaginations are ’50′s era reruns.

Of course, with their total ignorance of Freud, they are blind to the clear implications.

If you have a truly happy family, the fictional families are interesting, perhaps, but not compelling.

However, for those growing under an oppressive thumb, it is their dream and fantasy. A loving mother! A wise father! Parents they can bring their problems to! And all wrapped up with sappy music and a tidy solution.

To me, it explains everything about them. If more people had happy childhoods, we would have less wingnuts.

That’s social engineering I can get behind.

Is it practical? Sadly, no. But I think this is key to their entire mindset.

That, and no one in their right mind wanting to sleep with them.

So… she was the fluffer then? Explains a lot.

This would indicate that not only did Mr. Bozell never have a teenagehood, the one he carries in his imagination is a 50s rerun.

Yeah, that’s it. Give me the shame Brent. That’s it. Bad, naughty teens. Yes!

.