If you haven’t done so yet, head on over to the “72 Hours” page to see not only up-to-the-second updates on my no-budget movie, but to see it’s brand new look! It’s sexy, yet sensitive. Due to images problems on this site, expect a COMPLETE overhaul of the Communist Dance Party in upcoming weeks. You should be excited.
Me and Celia enjoy watching rodeos on television. Not the steer rasslin’ and the calf lassoo-in’, but the bull ridin’. Even though we are animal-loving vegetarians, I do enjoy a good hour or 2 of bull riding every week.
Why? We cheer for the bulls, and they usually win.
It’s way too easy to bicker about bull riding not being a real sport, just as people from the south need mock sports like this and stock-car racing to feel adequate with the rest of the nation. I’m not going to rip on those sweaty, racist bastards any more than I have to. Screw the south, they don’t deserve the time it takes for me to insult them. So I’m not going to.
So anyways, we cheer for the bulls. I like how they give the bulls scary names like “Big Daddy” and “McNasty”. (Although I personally don’t find these names particularly frightening, I guess people from the south do. They think lots of things are scary when they really aren’t. Like snow and empowered women.) I think if they want to give the “cowboys” some incentive to win, they should give the bulls wimpy names like “Kitten Rainbow”, or “Lollipop Pillow Basket”. If I got my ribs kicked in my “McNasty”, I’d still be respected. But if a bucking steed named “Pink Triangle” caused me to lose a testicle, I’d never hear the end of it. That’s a bull I’m going to want to stay on.
Even if you have to watch 20 guys in a row last 8 seconds with the bull, it’s all worth it for the inevitable goring that takes place at every rodeo since the beginning of time. I know you think that seems grim, but I never told them to hop on a bull and sinch a thick length of sandpaper on their weens. That’s their fault, and they deserve it. We get to see 20 different slow-mo replays of the bull swinging his head back to not only knock out the man trying to dominate him, but taking out 3 or 4 clowns in the process. But that’s not even the best part.
The best part is when they are trying to get this guy on the stretcher for 10 minutes, and the commentators have to go on about how big of a tragedy this is, and how it’s always unexpected. Are you kidding me? You go to rodeos for the same reason you go to a NASCAR race or a cockfight, you want to see things get hurt! Did you honestly think that riding this bull was a good idea? Did you think you’d be respected as a hero and a big man? Well, it was worth a shot, but now your ribs have been cracked like uncooked spaghetti, and your redneck kids are crying in the bleachers. But never fear, imbred youth! For all your Daddy’s trouble, he’s bringing home about $100,000 for being a loser. Aren’t you proud?
I know I am. Never stop riding bulls, guys.