Culturalism · Relations and Dating

Strange Idols

The empowered blogosphere has been alight recently over the negative reaction to a miscarriage picture posted by John Legend’s wife. While it all appears to be a case of much ado about cucking, the fury got me thinking about the bizarre and morally degenerate folks who are uplifted, largely due to celebrity status or the relative quality of their body. In that latter grouping falls the insufferable Milana Vayntrub,  a girl next door type who has somehow managed to capture the hearts of the commercial-consuming world, though for what reasons I cannot rightly know. She also had the following to say after Trump’s COVID diagnosis:

To be fair, the president isn’t the nicest person in the world, but focus on the messenger for a moment. Vayntrub is a public figure with substantial clout both on-screen and online. Is such a sentiment responsible from the standpoint of a person pretending to endorse positivity and respect, particularly given her own gripes with negativity on the internet? Leftists do get the social pass on hatred, but even on an individual level she has the capacity to rise above this mayhem.

Milana’s mischief is not isolated to Trump, however. In response to the #YouKnowMe hashtag being used to popularize abortion, she tweeted this:

Joke or not, it showcases great imperfections of the soul. Here is a person whose fame is largely based on their unchosen physical appearance, making light of the unborn child’s death. Why, exactly? Not because it gets in the way of humanitarian outreach or self-sacrifice, but rather sex.  

Therein is the vile truth about our decrepit nature. Lust seizes and commandeers the spirit, manhandling her purpose towards the subjugation of all value in exchange for that brief utterance, the ejection of fleeting happiness which soon turns to grim depression. We follow such creatures because they reflect our basest selves, the living desire to be mortal gods with a large enough digital soapbox and bank account to where any sense of guilt is swept cleanly away, leaving material grimace in the wake.

So freely virtue dies, bleating ecstatic moans to the lingered end.

Culturalism

Vulgarity Is Not Attractive

I occasionally run into someone who gushes over Chrissy Teigen, for reasons which escape me. While she is not totally unappealing, Eurasian genetics seem better manifested by the likes of Julia Nickson, or perhaps Kelsey Chow.

Personal preferences aside, what makes Teigen so repelling is her tendency to mouth off in disgusting and unbecoming ways, often over little things. For example, we have her outraged response to Trump’s opinion that the Coronavirus test is an unpleasant experience:

 “my vagina was ripped to my asshole giving birth to Luna. I had a vagasshole. fuck your swab pain.”

Imagine including your baby daughter in such a nasty and vulgar tweet, simply because you hate the president. Also consider that she is seen as a role model of sorts, with cooking products that deck the halls of your local Target.

Chrissy was not done, however. She went on with this:

 “they had to put a garbage bag at the end of the bed to collect my blood before stiching me up, where I then had to pee using a water bottle as a pain fountain for 3 months. so yeah. the swab, I bet it’s super rough.”

All of this in reaction to a person describing the experience of taking a medical test. Nowhere did Trump claim it is worse than having a child, but Chrissy’s neurotic brain just sees fire and shoots.

Last year, Teigen received passionate provider support from her husband John Legend (who is actually talented) when she implored women to use the following phrase more often:

“Fuck you.”

How empowering. I’m sure everyone who finds this sort of behavior from women is insecure and butthurt. So it goes.