Monday, November 04, 2013

The Hayes Code

Charlotte Hayes, last seen being struck by a sedan in Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita, wishes to deliver a spanking to Rush Limbaugh, Chris Christie, Bill Bennett and Ted Cruz:
Obesity, the product of a lack of discipline, sloppy dressing, loud and intimate cellphone chats broadcast to a captive audience and foul language nonchalantly uttered in the ATM line are all forms of this “self-expression” [i.e., "White Trash"ism].
What really cheeses Char off is that it's white people who are letting it all hang out. She only attacks pale peckerwoods, aka, "White Trash," and not their darker cousins. She believes either that non-whites are beyond reproach, beyond salvation, or not an appropriate subject for discussion in polite society. What gives the game away is that she truly believes there was a time when whites weren't trash.
Students of Arnold Toynbee, the English historian, will recognize what is going on here. In a chapter of his “A Study of History” entitled “Schism in the Soul,” Toynbee argued that it is a sign that a society is disintegrating when it takes its cues for manners and customs from the underclass. He describes such societies as being “truant” to their own values.
Toynbee is the guide to what we see all around us today.
And students of veterinary science will recognize horseshit when they read it.
Last year, “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo,” which features a cornucopia of social ills, was TLC’s highest-rated show, attracting more cable viewers than the Republican National Convention, which had the misfortune to share the time slot with the charmers from Georgia. The show’s matriarch, June Shannon, has four daughters by four men, one of whose names she can’t recall.
TLC's ratings were 47 percent higher, if I'm not mistaken.

In addition to loud-bodied fatties and public-space vulgarians, Hayes lays into stamped tramps, including one presumably easily-identifable slapper who showed up for Heritage Foundation cocktails sporting Chi Omega ink.  
My young friend wore a “bespoke” tattoo, which means it was designed in consultation with an “artist.” In my mind, it bespoke volumes.
800 words in the N.Y. Post just to shame one hep-C deserving slut. Now that's uberclassy!

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