August 30, 2005
Spoiled Rotten Fat Chick We,
Spoiled Rotten Fat Chick
We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are slightly embarrassed to admit it, dear reader, but we spent the better part of the weekend tuned to an Al Qaeda recruitment network called MTV. As much as we pined to get through a little more Proust, we simply couldn’t keep our eyes away from this unsavory television station.To make matters worse, the program that particularly caught our collective attention was “My Super Sweet 16,” which appears to be dedicated to broadcasting the lives of sundry noxious teenagers. Said show, for those of you blissfully unaware of it, tracks the planning and partying behind ultra-wealthy girls’ sweet 16 birthday soirees.
The female members of the crack young staff—who make up nearly 47 percent of us—informed us that not a one of them has had a sweet 16 party. Even more interestingly, informal polling around the office water-cooler suggested that approximately 47 percent of the staff was entirely unaware of the sweet 16 birthday concept until tuning in to the MTV. And they say you can’t learn anything from watching television.
Anyway, we collectively tuned in to one particular episode of “My Super Sweet 16,” which was devoted to a portly, bovine-esque black gal and her uproariously expensive fete. It was, dear reader, quite an experience.
First, we had no idea that poor sods known as “party planners” must spend their working hours placating rich teens by means of ridiculous ideas for entertainment. Who in his right mind would care to take such an odious job? We’d rather be garbage men. Oh, excuse us, feminist friends: Garbage people.
And then there was the birthday girl herself: A dowdy, spoiled (or, as our British friends would put it, spoilt), bitchy, overweight bitch who makes Omarosa seem like Mother Teresa. To be honest, we found this horrid creature—who consistently browbeat her mother and friends—to be the poster child for capital punishment.
As this supercilious Nell Carter bossed everyone around and kvetched over a party that cost $180,000, we collectively thought to ourselves: This is why the world hates America. Well, that and “American imperialism,” “Zionist aggression,” and the other things about which the academics blather.
Frankly, dear reader, if we were Islamist nutters—and we’re not—we could excuse the USA for its purported “imperialism,” and we could live with so-called “Zionist aggression.”
But this miserable fat chick caterwauling like a clown over her fancy-pants party? That we could simply not countenance.
