On the brighter side of ObamaCare...
It used to be that the question of whether your butt is too big was between you, your bathroom mirror and your significant other. Now, some say government has an interest in how snugly your jeans fit.
Your weight is the government's business, those who believe in nanny government say, because it's a public health issue. Overweight people cost more in health care expenses, so government is justified in using the power of the state to tax and regulate food production, marketing and consumption.
Besides, it's for your own good. Behind every proposal to place a special tax on Twinkies or ban soda on school grounds is this assumption: Average Americans aren't smart enough to make good choices about what they eat. For decisions of that kind, you need a specially educated bureaucrat.
Despite our goofing, the advent of ObamaCare does indeed usher in a new age of collective interest. We're no longer just concerned with the size of our own ass but other's as well.
Being a scold as to one's diet and resulting girth will no longer be considered a breach of etiquette but that of civic responsibility.
As such, those bumper stickers that will soon be adorning our hoopdie are not a result of crude misogyny but rather a spirit of unity, oneness and patriotism.
No Fat Chicks: It's the Law
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1 comment:
Because your link quoted Mark Twain, "I take my only exercise acting as a pallbearer at the funerals of my friends who exercise regularly."
Please indulge me; Mark Twain is famous for his anti-politically correct quotes. Whiney-assed bleeding heart crap influenced his writings. From the Adventures of Tom Sawyer identifying liberal white guilt:
Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked
there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and
hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all
sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as
satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the
hanging.
This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing--the petition to
the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely
signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a
committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail
around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample
his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five
citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself
there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names
to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently
impaired and leaky water-works.
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