This blogger was thinking about Rudy Giuliani (don't ask us why) and his political fortunes as a possible Gubernatorial candidate and it dawned upon us -- this man is creepy. Not, like, man-in-a-raincoat kind of creepy, but national level creepy. Threat level red. Our mind raced; a train of thought was born -- who is as creepy or creepier than Rudy?
Many colorful people, evidently. Thus this post was born:
10- Rudy Giuliani. What does one say about a man who inspires his own children to vote for his political enemies?
There is something deeply creepy about Rudy Giuliani. Profoundly creepy. What karmic episode in what past life brought him to this repeat default position as the Republican Party's foil against African-American firsts? Rudy exists to thwart African-American progress (comm-YEW-nity organizer be damned). He could arise, politically, only in a situation of naught else but total urban breakdown. An thuggish opportunist like Rudiani could only find political purchase in the absence of a solid political order. He crawls out of the void on his belly, wiggling his flabby ass. Rudy Giuliani is the consequence of an existential crisis. The crime situation in New York -- and the failure of David Dinkins -- allowed Rudy to flourish like a mushroom or some such political fungus in damp earth.
With sunken tombstones for eyes.
9- Jocelyne Wildenstein. Anyone who could do this to themselves -- for the sake, worse, of a philandering husband's fancy -- is seriously fucked up. Might-take-a-bite-out-of-you-in-the-middle-of-the-night fucked up. And the doctor that did this ought to be brought up on charges, to be sure. It says something terrible about the state of our democracy that Jocelyne Wildenstein, the "Tiger Lady," became something of a celebrity at the height of the bubble, dubbed "The Bride of Wildenstein." Historians of the future may look back at our imperial decay and feature, in textbooks, images of Wildenstein. And CATS! From Divasthesite:
"Always loving exotic animals, Alec bought Jocelyne a rare monkey as a household pet, and they had special enclosures built in their various houses for the beast, as he travelled with them throughout the world in the Wildenstein's private jet. For animal company of the more usual sort, Alec bought his wife 5 purebred greyhounds.
"Being a society wife is hard work, and by necessity one must look one's best. With Jocelyne, this was no exception. Alec bought her a complete Chanel wardrobe, as well as Chanel gowns designed expressly for her and no one else. Of course, with such a beautiful wardrobe, the accessories, too, must be of matching quality; so Alec bought his blushing bride a jewelery collection valued in excess of $10 million.
"Marriage with anybody can be difficult. Marriage to the very rich can be impossible, at times. Alec Wildenstein was no exception. Though Jocelyne tried as hard as she could, and eventually provided her husband with two fine children, it was sometimes a thankless task to jolly her husband out of his somber moods. He was subject to fits of depression at the control his father still exercised over him, in spite of his advancing years. The only consolations, it seemed, were the lions in his private jungle and his priceless, exquisite art collection. An insecure Jocelyne could not be blamed for feeling somewhat jealous. When Alec's eye began to wander after many years of marriage, Jocelyne knew that drastic measures were called for."
Beyond the creepy exotic animals and the raw excess of wealth, the fact that Jocelyne still enjoys the nightlife, seemingly oblivious that she looks like a fucking meow-meow, gives this blogger awe. And fear.
8- Muammar Gaddafi. Africans have always known that Gaddafi is a freak, but this week the West got a taste. This weekend Muammar Gaddafi was the comedy writer's gift that kept on giving. His eccentricities -- the dress, the prolix speechifying, the pharmaceutically-enhanced leer (see image), the posse of virgin female bodyguards -- are delicious. If you gave Michael Jackson or the bloated late stage Marlon Brando or even Elvis an African nation, this is what would happen sooner or later. Excess, thy name is Gaddafi. And that is creepy. He knows not civilizational bounds.
He is, after a fashion, the embodiment of African Dictator Chic, minus a smidgen of bloodthirstiness and plus a touch of the buffoon. But make no mistake about it, those dark, dead dictator's eyes are the eyes of a killer.
7-Courtney Love. Granted, Courtney Love is more sad than creepy, but the fact that she is allowed to roam free -- walking wounded -- edging closer to her own doom is deeply creepy. I've always found it irresponsible when Howard Stern puts her on, as a sort of comic mess, a how-not-to-live-your-life. The tough girl couture-grunge routine masks a very wounded soul.
Courtney Love has had a hard life. She suffered alleged sexual abuse from manscum Ted Nugent. But she has had strong moments -- attacking the recording industry dinosaurs at the turn of the millennium. And she has had profoundly creepy moments -- allegedly shooting heroin while pregnant. Her husband committed suicide, leaving her to raise an infant. But isn't that an alarm bell to fall back on one's support system? That's what family and therapists are for. Instead, Courtney Love pitched forward into a fast-paced career at overdrive. Bad move.
She had what can only be properly construed as a nervous breakdown. Somewhere around that period Johnny Depp saved her life. That involved another pregnancy. And she's only recently returned to civilian life.
It doesn't seem as if she is really that much better. And that is what is creepy. If Courtney Love is smart enough to navigate Twitter, she should be smart enough to know that she needs to give show business a break and solidify her center somewhere private -- outside of the public eye. What is so creepy is that Courtney Love doesn't seem to understand that there is such a thing as life outside of the prism of celebrity. Creepier is that 43,817 people read her increasingly erratic Tweets.
This, unfortunately, will probably not end well.
6- Chuck Berry. This blogger will freely admit that we do not know what it was like to live in the American South in the 1950s. It sounds positively Kafkesque. A totalitarian prison, an American apartheid.
But however horrible such a life ever was, it would never make us do this. Or this.
5- Prince Frederick von Anhalt. What dominion would have this man as their heir and regent?
An idiot regime?
Prince Frederick von Anhalt, he with the oily, cloying Swabian accent, is so creepy that even writing about him -- giving him an intellectual afterthought -- inspires this blogger with the desire to take a zesty mindbath. And there is not so much a smile to his voice, but a skeletal ricktor. Is this what Gogol meant by a "Dead Soul"? Prince Frederick von Anhalt is probably one of the few men proud to admit on national television to having had sex with Ana Nicole after her untimely death.
(why is this man smiling?)
4- Kim Jong-il. Yo, what is up, Kim Jong-il. il, can I call you il? You can't be kidnapping people. That's just not right.
Actually, there are a thousand things wrong with Kim Jong-il. He wears lifts in his shoes (cliche: a dictator with a Napoleonic complex). He's a Johnny Walker drunk (Macallan would have been less creepy). He's holding a nation virtually hostage and in the 18th century. And, of course, he kidnaps.
(a human placenta sandwich via momlogic)
3- Placenta Eating In Public. I am a socially liberal person, deeply tolerant. Live and let live, says I. If it is someone's private belief that eating ones afterbirth -- which, apparently, is high in iron -- staves off post-partum depression, then, hey, eat away.
Just do it in private, s'il vous plait.
That's all I ask. I do not need to see blog posts with recipes and romantic food porn pictures of afterbirth in tomato sauce. That's as disgusting to most sensibilities as scat fetishism. I am not a hater or a repressive chauvanist, I just don't see what is *empowering* about recipes and social networking involving the consumption of afterbirth. Just what the fuck is "afterbirth positive"? Maybe I'm old fashioned? Momlogic would disagree.
(a human afterbirth pasta via momlogic)
I don't find this mouth-watering, I find it goddam creepy. From Momlogic:
"'I think people being grossed out by this is mostly just fear of the unknown, Kathy says. 'It's the same sort of reaction people have when it even comes to the cuisine of other cultures--what's normal in another culture can seem repulsive to one's own. Happens all the time! Most of the Western world can't even fathom having duck head on the menu, but it doesn't make the food any less acceptable as a meal.'
"She continues: 'When Chrissy first brought up the idea about cooking the placenta, I looked around online and found the most inspiring article about it. The writer's attitude was just all-around positive and even a little playful about the subject, and I thought, 'Hey, this isn't such a big deal after all!' Other medical/health articles about placenta-eating shared the same general consensus--as long as the mother is good and healthy, no harm can come from eating the placenta.'
"What does she say to the haters? 'I think the fact that the placenta is unquestionably attached to the concept of 'baby' (and who doesn't like a cute baby?) probably makes people take the matter personally and forget to look at it more objectively," she says. 'The placenta became a simple piece of meat for cooking. And no babies were harmed in the process. That's my take on it.'"
Charmed, I'm sure.
2-Robert Mugabe. Now we are entering into the City of Dis (cue: Bach, Toccata and Fugue in D minor). Big evil, keemo sabe. The line between the creepy and the positively Satanic has been crossed. And who but Zimbabwean strongman Robert Mugabe could occupy position 3, saying, with Dantean precision, "pape Satan, pape Satan aleppe."
If Gaddaffi approximates African Dictator Chic, Mugabe embodies Big African Evil. What karma has brought him to feed of the suffering of his home country?
Unbelievably creepy. *The Corsair shudders*
1- Glenn Beck. He weeps, he rages, he laughs. And then he weeps again. For his country, mind you. And then his eyes widen, full of malice. He sneers as he speaks of the American president. He lies. Boldly.
There is something deeply wrong with this man. His moods are ... off. He's not like you and I, he's animale, without a soul.
Something tells me, frankly, that the royal highness of profound creepiness might be better off if he just took his goddam meds.