Sunday Bloody NYT Sunday: Special How Do We Get A Christmas Card From John Waters Edition

Sunday Bloody NYT Sunday: Special How Do We Get A Christmas Card From John Waters Edition

Man, this Sunday’s New York Times is a total drag. Some communist must have taken over the real estate section, because all we have are stories of people looking for co-ops in Bed-Stuy or some such nonsense. Not a single $20 million house story! UNFAIR. INPEACH NEW YORK TIMES. Oh well.


This week’s paper does give us an interview with John Waters as he launches his Christmas show tour, and it is as wonderful as you’d expect. For all that he is a master of the weird, John Waters is about the best Christmas person possible. He sends out oodles of Christmas cards – like 2000 of them. He spends Christmas with his family back home in Baltimore. He thinks gift cards are tacky. He really really loves getting and giving books.

What kind of gifts do you give?

I always give books. And I always ask for books. I think you should reward people sexually for getting you books. Don’t send a thank-you note, repay them with sexual activity. If the book is rare or by your favorite author or one you didn’t know about, reward them with the most perverted sex act you can think of. Otherwise, you can just make out.

Be right back. We’re off to buy books for John Waters in the hopes of getting a makeout session or at least a Christmas card out of the deal. What? You wouldn’t do it? It’s JOHN FUCKING WATERS, PEOPLE. You’re all philistines. Such philistines that you probably want one of these expensive and ridiculous hair ornaments. This one will only run you $550, which is a bargain for something that basically looks like a gold-plated crown of thorns.


You just know the person that bought that thing will also be the person that wrote this question to that absurd etiquette column the Times insists on running.

I recently received a notice from a charity that a donation had been made in honor of my birthday. The charity is a favorite of the donor, but certainly not one of mine. I couldn’t care less about it. How should I recognize this “gift”?

Once again, the etiquette person, who is a living breathing fucking saint to sort through these piles of greedy nonsense letters, answers this gently and deftly and says that you would acknowledge the gift gracefully because that is what you do with all gifts. Our answer is largely the same, though with more swearing and incredulity. Give us an advice column, New York Times!

Gah. With no real estate news, we’re forced to pivot and deal with the opinion columnists much earlier. God has forsaken us. Let’s close our eyes and point at the computer screen and pick one of the terrible trio at random to get started.

Oh, someone is letting Ross Douthat write about health care policy, which is about as good as giving a pen to your dog and seeing what happens. The dog would probably eat the pen, and the resultant mess would look just like this column. Sure, the insurance rollout worked in liebrul Taxachusetts, opines the chinbeard, but it won’t play in the rest of ‘Merica because rugged individuals or something.

The Massachusetts law was a bipartisan bill passed in a wealthy, homogeneous state with a pervasive left-liberal ethos. The national health care law aspires to create the same sense of “positive responsibility” in a much more polarized, fragmented, socioeconomically diverse and libertarian-minded society, roughly half of which opposes the law outright.

Listen, Ross. We are actually totes cool with you and your little libertarian playmates opting out of the health care exchange – and society in general – completely. You people keep threatening it, but you NEVER LEAVE. Also, too, if you opt out, remember that you can’t use the taxpayer-subsidized emergency room or an ambulance that will drive on government collective socialist roads because that would be contrary to your libertarian-mindedness.


Chinbeard is right about one thing, though. Millennials are whinging about their increased costs and pretending this doesn’t improve their care and generally being selfish little whiny bitchcakes about the whole thing. Knock it off, you entitled special snowflakes, and fucking pay your share. Were you complaining when Obamacare kept you on Mommy and Daddy’s insurance while you spent your gap year in Europe? Probably not!

Yeesh. On to Thomas Friedman. Friedman’s column actually starts out bearable, with some completely pedestrian observations about what how the US really sucks at math and science and reading when compared to other countries. We have some complex feels and thoughts about this, most of which revolve around entrenched poverty and disparate school funding. Tommy Boy, however, mentions those things in passing on his way to the big Friedman reveal, which is some bullshit.

Our kids face three big adjustments. First, to be in the middle class, they will need to be constantly improving their skills over their lifetime. Second, to do that, they will need a lot more self-motivation. The “digital divide” will soon disappear. Fairly soon, virtually everyone will have a screen and an Internet connection. In that world, argues futurist Marina Gorbis, the big divide will be “the motivational divide” — who has the self-motivation, grit and persistence to take advantage of all the free or cheap online tools to create, collaborate and learn. And third, countries that thrive the most will be the H.I.E.’s — the high imagination-enabling countries — that attract and enable talent to be constantly spinning off new ideas and start-ups, the source of most new good jobs.

Yes, impoverished slum-dweller, in America or abroad, please be more motivated! No, don’t be motivated to feed your family or ensure the heat stays on. Figure out a way to maximize your synergized leverage and use your imaginary free internet to stop, collaborate and listen. And make sure you move to a “high imagination-enabling” country, which is a thing that only exists inside Thomas Friedman’s head. What is the stupidest color, do you think? Whatever it is, that is the color of the sky in Friedman’s world.

Oh god you guys Maureen Dowd is writing about sexytime. Woodrow Wilson sexytime. It’s going to take us a while to get through this because we’re reading by peeking through our hands like we’re watching a horror film, because that’s pretty much what this is.

After 10 years of marriage to Ellen, [Wilson’s] first wife, he wrote her: “Are you prepared for the storm of love making with which you will be assailed?” When he should have been focused on the sinking of the Lusitania, he was addled with gushy courting of the younger Edith. Which may explain why relentless playboy Leonardo DiCaprio, who made waves with Kate Winslet in “Titanic” and made trouble with Carey Mulligan in “Gatsby,” is interested in playing Wilson (a name probably more familiar to modern moviegoers as Tom Hanks’s volleyball confidant).

OK, first of all, no one wants to think about Woodrow Wilson and his storm of lovemaking. Second, no one wants to think about Maureen Dowd reading about a storm of lovemaking, presidential style, because it probably involves some really complicated hatefuck fantasies about Bill and Hillz. And finally, no one wants to try to parse the DiCaprio wants to play Woodrow Wilson because Wilson had a way with the ladies even though most Americans do not know Woodrow Wilson har har har.


Now that we’ve thoroughly wrecked your day with thoughts of MoDo masturbating, we’ll take our leave. Good luck ever getting it up again.


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