Fireside Chat #7 (Fall ’05)


Bad news, moms. The House has just passed the “cheeseburger bill.”

Assuming it makes jumps through the rest of the legislative, executive and judicial hoops (impressive government knowledge, yes?) the bill will make it so you can’t sue McDonalds for the obesity of your eight-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—that’s the bread and butter of his party. A man can get reelected by diverting attention from international policy nightmares by reminding everyone that, he, unlike his opponent, is not going to turn the homosexuals loose on our country.

But isn’t it our right as Americans to pass the blame off on anyone we want? As Freud has taught us, and I’m pretty sure he’s never wrong, passing the blame off on others is a great defense mechanism. If I can’t blame the deliciously inexpensive “super-size” menu for my child’s enormity, who can I blame? Myself? My man Sigmund proved that if you start blaming yourself for too many things, your face will melt off from stress.

My Graphic checks aren’t enough to support my
Malibu playboy lifestyle, so I’m looking for a get rich quick scheme to bring in the extra cash. I don’t think my weight would win me any lawsuits right now, cheeseburger bill or no. So I must turn to pop culture.

You know, 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 them was 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. I started beating my head on chairs like Dobby the House Elf. How could I have been watching the most evil show on television and not known it?

PTC President Brent Bozell found me the answer. After listing a number of shocking topics addressed the Seth McFarlane animated series, he observed that “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 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 okay—This, after all, was a kids show, like “Looney Toons” or “The Simpsons.”

I can’t un-watch the episode where the dog is in love with the wife, or the one where the dad tries to sell is daughter into slavery to pay his pharmacy bill, or the one that catalogues every Jewish stereotype in the book.

So you see I’m corrupted for life. Better cash in on it 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 Sigmund and his wisdom. Next week’s Freudian defense mechanism: punching people in the gut.


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