GABE DURHAM
Staff Writer
I’ve got some bad news for all the mothers and fathers out there.
The House has just passed the “cheeseburger bill.” Assuming it jumps through the rest of the legislative, executive and judicial hoops, the bill will make it so you can no longer sue McDonald’s for the obesity of your 8-year-old.
Republican Congressman Mike Rogers tried to justify the bill, saying, “You cannot litigate personal choices and lifestyles.”
No, you can’t litigate them, but legislating morality is the bread and butter of his political party.
But isn’t it our right as Americans to pass the blame to anyone we want?
As Freud taught us, passing the blame to others is a great defense mechanism, and I’m pretty sure Freud was never wrong.
If I can’t blame the deliciously inexpensive “Super Size” menu for my child’s enormity, who can I blame? Myself? My man Freud proved that if you start blaming yourself for too many things, your face will melt off from stress.
Since my Graphic checks aren’t enough to support my Malibu playboy lifestyle, I’m looking for a get-rich-quick scheme to bring in some extra cash. I don’t think my weight would win me any lawsuits right now, cheeseburger bill or not. So, once again, I must turn to pop culture.
The Parents Television Council just released its list of “least family-friendly shows.” At first it looked like a helpful FYI, but as I looked into the council’s description of the shows, I realized that anyone who watched these shows must be a bad person.
Then I saw that “Family Guy” was at the top of the list.
“Surely not!” I shouted, to the cold stares of everyone at the funeral I happened to be attending. “I watch Family Guy!”
A wave of guilt swept over me. Like Dobby the House Elf, I started beating my head on chairs. How could I have been watching the most evil show on television and not known it?
After listing a number of shocking topics addressed by the Seth McFarlane animated series, PTC President Brent Bozell said, “Even worse is the fact that Hollywood is peddling its filth to families with cartoons.”
That was it. I’d been seduced.
I was drawn in by the bright colors and the funny-looking drawings, too hypnotized to know to be horrified by what I saw. Then, when I bought the “Family Guy” DVDs, I was subjected to the filth over and over again. I laughed only because I thought it must be OK — this, after all, was a kid’s show, like “Looney Toons” or “The Simpsons.”
I can’t un-watch the episode where the dog is in love with the wife, the one where the dad tries to sell his daughter into slavery to pay his pharmacy bill or the one that cataloges every Jewish stereotype in the book.
So, you see, I’m corrupted for life. Better cash in on it now, so I can start getting double quarter-pounder meals every night of the week. I shall stand before the courts, a shell of a man, and ask, “Do you have the courage to take $10 million away from Fox, and give it to me?”
Surely I’ve kept my face from melting now, thanks to Freud and his wisdom. Next week’s Freudian defense mechanism: punching people in the gut.
10-27-2005
