Tag Archives: rape

One Million Moms see bestiality in a Geico commercial.

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One Million Moms see bestiality in a Geico commercial.

Pop the champagne, it’s sexy time!

I guess this world isn’t all about seashells and Chanel.

OK de-Wordpress. You’ve lost this draft two times already. I’ve hit SAVE twice and watched it disappear. Don’t you like the subject matter? I’ve gone to a Word document to try and recreate my brilliance ONE LAST TIME.

I used to work at a local TV station
I don’t watch a lot televised news. I do love me some Daily Show with Jon Stewart because he’s so witty and very well informed about the important news from around the world. That’s it, I swear, not ‘cos I crush on Jon. Riiigghht.

I used to work at a local TV news station and quickly became disenchanted with the whole business and especially the way crime victims are treated.

Instead of becoming the investigative journalist truthseeker/writer I had hoped for, I was relegated to calling the morgue to find out if anyone important had died overnight (way before internet) and the one and only murder I covered really made me nauseous.

I was coached about how to approach the mother who had lost her son to an act of violence. She had tears streaming down her face and I was told to shove that microphone in her face and ask her how she felt about the death of her son. Couldn’t do it. Not for me. I left soon after and have always been disdainful of the vulture-like reporters who converge on a tragedy—anything for ratings.

How does that relate to bestiality?
I had the local news on before I went to the gym this morning, mainly to see about the weather (another beautiful and sunny day–duh), but my ears perked up when they reported about the Million Moms protesting that adorable Geico commercial with the piggy.

Old fedora felt hat with a press cardI had to put on my investigative reporter hat and do a little research because at first I thought it was a joke. I mean, it had to be a joke, right?

First, I watched the commercial. To refresh your memory, Geico usually employs a talking gecko. FYI, the Million Moms have a prob with the gecko, too. Not kidding.

You know what I see? An advertisement for insurance with an adorable little piggy talking and driving a car and enjoying a bit of banter with a human. Funny. Cute. NOT BESTIALITY.

If you can interpret that as a human and an animal having sex, that says more about your disgusting and perverted mind than it does about me. We can all agree that it’s not right to have sex with an animal—that is animal ABUSE—but that is NOT what’s going on here.

the-3-little-pigs-largeHow about the children’s book “Three Little Pigs”? I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down. How do you interpret that, you bunch of lunatics? HUFF—PUFF—BLOW. Are we talking fellatio here? What? Drug use? What?

Or “Little Red Riding Hood”?redriding2
Huh? How about the wolf that dressed up like an old lady? Transgender? Cross-dresser? Hiding in her bed? Oh, the horrors!

As a good reporter, I’m presenting the other side: 

Here’s what the Million Crazy Moms Idiots have to say…

Maxwell the Geico pig goes on a date in Geico’s new piggy commercial. In Geico commercial, the pig and a young female are in a parked car on a lover’s lane. The car is actually broken down, but while sitting there the girl appears to be turned on by the pig. She hints that she wants to make out. She is disappointed when she learns the tow truck is on the way and they won’t be able to “pass the time.”

Geico has succeeded in offending its customers with this inappropriate advertisement. One Million Moms has received numerous complaints because Geico’s new commercial plays with the idea of bestiality. Parents find this type of advertising repulsive and unnecessary. Airing a commercial with an animal in it will surely grab children’s attention, but this is a horrible commercial for families to see. Geico does not have our children’s best interest in mind.

The Geico Marketing Team may have thought this would be humorous, but it is disgusting to see how the company takes lightly the act of bestiality. Let Geico know their new ad is irresponsible.

And here’s what I have to say:

YOU ALL ARE CRAY CRAY FUR REALZ

How about rallying FOR something that might actually do some GOOD in the world ‘cos y’all don’t speak for me. When I think about all the positive change you could engender with your collective voices, I can’t believe this is what you choose to get pissed off about. Wow.

Here are some alternatives for you to sink your teeth into:

▪   Rape—girls, boys, women, men—all of it is WRONG, WRONG, WRONG.

▪   Guns. Remember Sandy Hook? I do.

▪   Child abuse

▪   Animal cruelty

▪   Elder abuse

▪   The homeless

▪   The hungry

Nowhere on any list of any rational human being will you find get rid of the Geico commercial because it promotes bestiality.

You know what sickens ME, you bigoted hypocrites? You do! You don’t advocate “loving animals”, but you’re all okie dokie with murdering them and EATING them? Want some bacon? A side o’ ribs? Have at it!  It’s perfectly acceptable for you to allow an animal to be born into a horrible cruel environment, and butcher it so it can feel a hell-hole of pain just so you can stuff your big fat self righteous faces with the FLESH of a once living breathing creature that YOUR God put on this earth.

Or so you think—it’s just your CONJECTURE—I CHOOSE DARWIN.

Yes, Princess Rosebud, the world is not full of seashells and Chanel, but it OUGHT to be.

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Daily Prompt: Fight or Flight

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January 1981–Balboa Park, San Diego, California At that time, my son’s dad and I lived near Balboa Park in a little section called Hillcrest/University Heights. There was a back way to the south side of Balboa Park through a canyon trail. That was a favorite walk for my two dogs, Sabrina and Beowulf. Sabrina was a Border Collie. Wolfie was an Akita/Malamute mix that I rescued when I was a junior at SDSU and he was about four weeks old. I bottle fed him and took him to classes in a baby front pack. Fully grown, he was over a hundred pounds and stood about thirty inches high. He had no idea how big he was and sat in my lap just like he did when he was a puppy. He was an awesome pet. They both attended graduation ceremonies with me, which got us into the local paper.

In January of 1981 I was seven months pregnant. I was very active, and continued to attend ballet classes and hike with my dogs. On this particular morning, we walked down 10th Avenue to Robinson and over to the end of Vermont and wound our way through the canyon trail. It was an enchanted place after a rainy winter with lush green vines, mature trees, and a seasonal creek–not at all desert-y  and dry like in this photo.There was probably tons of poison oak but I must have been lucky and avoided it. I remember there was a hill covered in nasturtiums and my dogs loved to roll around in them.  We walked for about thirty minutes and followed the trail toward the park and then turned around. We were halfway to the entrance at Vermont. It was quiet except for the far off hum of Highway 163. I heard a twig crack and ignored it, thinking it was a little critter. My dogs both alerted, ears pricked, hackles rising. More twigs cracked, and I turned around.  I will never forget the next few seconds. A man was sneaking up behind me. As soon as he saw me looking at him, he unzipped his pants and exposed himself. Moving swiftly was not an option being seven months pregnant and fifty pounds heavier, but I tried. I remember trying to be careful that I didn’t trip and fall. The faster I walked, the faster he walked, and he was closing the gap between us. Sabrina turned to growl at him and Wolfie placed himself between me and the man. I simply FROZE. I couldn’t move a muscle. My brain was screaming at me to run away from DANGER, and my legs felt like they were encased in concrete. The adrenaline was pumping, sending the proper primitive signals, but I panicked. Just before the man lunged at me, I picked up Sabrina because I didn’t want her to get hurt. Yes, I picked up my forty-five pound Border Collie, screamed at Wolfie to COME, and RAN THE WRONG WAY. I ran–lumbered--back into the ravine and NOT toward the street that was full of houses and humans and safety. I ran as best as I could with my huge baby-filled belly, until thankfully, a group of women came down from the park and the man disappeared. One of the women who lived nearby took me to her house and we called the police from there. I was so entrenched in fear and panic that I wasn’t able to provide them with a good description, other than noticing he was overweight and probably couldn’t run any faster than I could. This was before cell phones, and when the policemen drove us home, I called my mom. She was an RN and drove over to check my heart rate and blood pressure, as well as delivering a stern lecture about not putting my unborn baby in danger. Needless to say, there were no more solo canyon adventures. After more than thirty years, the re-telling of this potential rape? murder? robbery? still causes my heart to pound.