Oh Myyy! (7 page)
I can never look at wavy side-by-side lines on a road sign the same way again. Here’s another:
Perhaps it’s the naughty aspect of bacon that makes it so appealing. Bacon images wouldn’t be nearly as popular if bacon were something we got to see or eat every day without judgment. It’s like boobs in Europe. They’re all over their beaches, so it’s just not that big a deal. But like Big Mac Lasagnas (yes, that’s right, Big Mac Lasagnas. Google it), bacon is just too bad for you to pass up.
Fast food chains have started taking this to extremes. Burger King introduced a “bacon sundae” — combining two things we know are terrible for us into a single, unforgivable treat. Even high-end restaurants have begun offering bacon as part of their fancier offerings, sometimes slipping it into desserts. I once witnessed, as a particularly tempting selection, a dish of maple ice cream over corn bread, with chopped center-cut smokehouse bacon, all smothered in rich syrup. My stomach rumbles at the memory.
The overly health-conscious among us have tried to rain on the bacon parade by promoting low fat (and low flavor) options, such as turkey bacon. Turkey bacon. It’s like saying “shoot” instead of “shit.” It just doesn’t quite carry the moment.
I’ve noticed that bacon substitute is typically paired with another disappointing partner, like egg whites, and served with a side of arugula salad, instead of the buttered home fries wedges you’d rather have. Brad stays on my case to eat healthy, and I do make the effort. However, there’s a part of my brain — the part wrapped in bacon — that protests. Life is too short to not order the bacon dessert. As a matter of fact, life starts to feel mighty long when all you eat is turkey bacon and egg whites and a side of arugula.
That’s Not Funny
I quickly learned that, on the Internet, it is impossible to please everyone, but really easy to piss them all off. A joke that I find chuckle-worthy, an inevitable percentage of viewers will find in poor, or even wretched, taste. And of course, it is those folks who will take the time to let me know exactly why, usually in a wrenching, over-personal comment or email:
“GEORGE, YOU’RE SUCH A CHAMPION OF HUMAN RIGHTS, AND OF THE VOICELESS AND DOWNTRODDEN. WHY WOULD YOU MAKE FUN OF OLD PEOPLE WHO RIDE AROUND IN LARKS? I’M A DIFFERENTLY-ABLED PERSON IN A WHEELCHAIR, A STATUS I’VE HAD MOST OF MY ADULT LIFE AFTER A TERRIBLE, LIFE-CHANGING ACCIDENT. YOUR POST HURT ME, AND I’M STILL CRYING AS I WRITE THIS. ISN’T WHAT YOU POSTED JUST ANOTHER FORM OF BULLYING?!?”
Good grief. If we can’t laugh at ourselves, and at one another, in good spirit and without malice, then what fun can be left? If we must withhold all ribbing in the name of protecting everyone’s feelings, then we truly are a toothless society. We will reach what I call “the lowest common denominator of butthurt.”
More recently, during the launch of the iPhone 5, I posted something a fan had sent me that I found wickedly satirical. It showed a police officer asking a homeless man to go camp in front of the Apple store like everyone else. Within minutes, I was accused by many fans of making a joke “at the expense” of the homeless. Dozens voiced their indignation over my “poor taste.” And more than a few fans expressed their sheer outrage at the blatant use of Comic Sans in the caption.
But seriously. Have we as a society forgotten the important place of satire in our cultural dialogue? Have we grown so afraid of offending that we no longer dare pose the hard questions, or even the easy ones? Anyone who missed the irony of our government (represented by the police officer) asking those without money (the homeless chap) to go and camp beside those with money to spend on iPhones either wasn’t paying much attention, or needs a refresher course in political humor. And anyone who thought I was condemning the homeless rather than the state of our society clearly doesn’t know me very well.
When words and images become too politically volatile to even speak or print, we have lost something indeed. I discovered this early on in my Internet forays. When I filmed my “douchebag” video, I called out Arkansas school board member, Clint McCance, for posting on Facebook that he enjoyed it when gays “give each other AIDS and die.” What a role model for our children. McCance apologized clumsily for his “hasty” words, but not before embarrassing himself, his school district, and probably the entire state of Arkansas.
I was determined to answer back with something that would cut to the quick. But I could think of no way to describe Mr. McCance other than as a “douchebag.” Brad worried at the time that “douchebag” was too vulgar for me to say, at least outside the set of
The Howard Stern Show
(nothing is too vulgar once inside that set). Although Brad finally relented and let me say it — ultimately to over a million viewers on YouTube, goodness me — neither of us expected the torrent of reproach that I would receive.
Apparently, calling someone a “douchebag” is an offense to all women, at least according to the feminine hygiene police. I’ve never understood the logic to this. A receptacle for douche liquid is certainly not a very nice thing to be called. But neither is “Santorum,” and the gay community isn’t getting its panties in a bunch over it. Perhaps that’s because we learned long ago to laugh at ourselves.
© Bernd Jürgens - Fotolia.com. Used with Permission
The fact is, the “douche” is an invention, by men, that tells women they need to wash out their vaginas to be truly clean — in other words, a totally unnecessary and demeaning contraption. Logically, calling someone this would be no slight upon women at all.
Let’s just agree that “douchebag” has nothing to do with women or their bodily functions. In fact, no one even thinks of girly parts at all when you call someone a douchebag. They might, however, think of Clint McCance.
Another common objection concerns name-calling itself. According to the Sensitive Sallies of the world, the use of pejoratives against those who bully and oppress is to be condemned itself as bullying. I once reposted something Morgan Freeman tweeted:
