Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Pat Robertson in Cleats vs. my ladyparts!
Presenting the first THIS GUY of the new year, Tim Tebow, pointed out and shamed on this here weblog because of his adoption of the tiiiiiired old routine that Christ-y types have always used: volunteering to instruct you (and me) on how to live. Must we do this dance yet again?
Tim, Heisman-winning QB for the insufferable Florida Gators, soldier for Christ's army, and son of Evangelical missionaries, will appear with his mother in an antiabortion commercial during the "Super Bowl" (TM? All Rights Reserved? I should just call it The Big Game like on beer commercials). The Tebows will plead with ladies not to kill any tiny humans they may have growing inside them. Because it's the Tebows' fucking business, that's why.
The commercial has the creepily ambiguous title of "Celebrate Family, Celebrate Life," which, during the Super Bowl, means Celebrate Red Stripe, Celebrate the Saints' Victory, but which the Tebows will push as a catch phrase intended to make slutty ladies think twice about being slutty. As part of the deal, if every pregnant woman carries every pregnancy to term, Mrs. Tebow and Tim are going to offer to babysit, help us with the cost of raising a child, and make sure that all of the existing kids whose parents weren't equipped to care for them will swiftly move into the Tebow family home. Oh wait, no. That's not the case. [HuffPo]
Much to my amusement, Tim's major at Florida was Family, Youth and Community Sciences. How strange - I too have studied this very topic, and I do believe that the research-based science of families and communities tells us repeatedly that when women aren't trusted to make decisions about when they will give birth, Everything Gets Fucked Up. This includes Families, Youth, and Communities.
ANDANOTHERTHING: It's rather upsetting that someone native to Florida - the state geographically closest to the nation of Haiti and the state home to the highest number of Haitian-Americans - is concerned about unborn baby people who aren't here yet and who is starring in a multimillion-dollar commercial for Focus on the Family (ugh), when there are lots of people alive in Haiti right now who are dying and could use multi millions of dollars. YEAH I SAID IT.
Tim's just the latest in a string of dudes who have that killer cocktail of deep cluelessness and aggressive pushiness, presented under the guise of spreading the word of peacemonger and poverty-fighter Jesus Christ. My response to these people, distilled to its essence, is: I'm grown, dude. I'm grown. Kindly remove your Bible from my reproductive system. And although football is beloved in apt. 302, the only person round here I want flowing like Christ when he speaks the gospel is a) uh, Christ; and b) uh, Robert F. Diggs in '93. There are lots of ways to say back the fuck up (swoon, '93!), but in 2010 there's some growth occurring in apt. 302; sometimes cuss words are just so juvenile. Therefore, I'll simply offer the gently suggestive Cool Out, Son.
Really, Tim, REALLY. Cool out, son.
. . .