Just Another Reason to Vomit & Other Coincidences

My dear friend Heidi Li Feldman is collecting misogynist campaign garbage.  I too have inadvertently started collecting garbage.  My category is "the unbelievably ludicrous."

I had the honor of being favorably compared, by my aforementioned colleague, to Frederic Douglass, a man who stood up at the beginning of the American women's movement, as a reporter, and supporter of the fight for women's suffrage.  It was a humbling moment for me.  

Humility was not what I felt however when I saw this today on my internet walkabout:

No, you are not high on acid.  That is a baby bib with a side by side image of Frederic Douglass, and Pampers.  The quote is from Douglass: 

"I would unite with anybody to do right and with nobody to do wrong."

If there were to be a picture in the dictionary to accompany the definition of the word "irony" it would be this one.  It could also be used for the definition of "nauseating."  "Incongruous," "proposterous," "infelicitous," and "absurd," would also be acceptable.  

There is an entire line of products with this image if you are in need of an emergency vomiting.

Do I need to comment that if Frederic Douglass were alive to see the misogynist-select's campaign I suspect that he would not have endorsed Pampers?  Nah.  Too obvious.

I popped over to Seraphic Light last night to read the post on John Lennon, and suggested picking up Skywriting by Word of Mouth, remembering the puma references suddenly, and somewhat late.  Betty Blue, being an intrepid traveler, checked out the book and unsolicited by me in any way (no really, I didn't call her and give her a list of candidates I wanted to replace me in the Senate), commented on the puma references.

This nugget from the opening of "Puma Eats Coast Guard" makes my spleen percussive from laughter:

It was a large part of Max's orifices that had served him well during the recent "stagnation." An unqualified success was written all over him during a discourse on the probability of improbability. Max's hair had been a mess. Being a coast guard had its problems. Apart from the virtual isolation, the wind kept ruining his rod stewart. It had taken him six months, more or less, to look like an idiot, and more than fifty dollars (American). He was not too thrilled with the outcome.

Max could not distinguish between a vaginal spray and underarm deodorant. "The problem is," he used to moan, "I don't know which to spray first." These kind of things bore heavily on his mind. (What else did he have to think about just gazing out to sea?) Being very short sighted and easily led did not help matters. He could not even see the rarelyspotted Qualm, a beauty of a beast that lurks over Iceland. It lets out a bloodcurdling but stealthy stream of epitaphs whenever it is disturbed. Which isn't often.

The collective unconscious is always working...if you don't stop to blink every couple hundred once-in-a-whiles you'll miss it.