The U.S. spiraled into decades of romantic uncertainty and self-loathing after the heartbreak of Mary Pickford losing a leg to gangrene following a vicious tavern brawl in 1929. Where will we find America’s Little Cupcake for the 21st century?
Well, 2011 certainly is shaping up to be quite the year for Wisconsinites. Douchebag Senator Paul Ryan not only escaped the noose for his role in engineering the AIG bailouts in the mid-terms, but also became the budget committee chief this January. Newly elected RNC chair and former ethical giant Racid Priebus, a Kenosha native, began in earnest his party’s campaign to contest the health care reform law that he himself claimed was unassailably constitutional. And of course, just this week, America’s Team, the Green Bay Packers took the crown in the fairly eventful Superbowl XLV.
Whew! Pretty heady stuff — but the ride’s not over yet. Valentine’s weekend is almost upon us, and as the United State’s official Capitol of Love is in Milwaukee, Wisconsin is once more at the center stage of world events. Yeah, yeah, fuck populist uprisings in Egypt and Tunisia; screw the over-hyped utopian romance of Marianne du France, WISCONSIN is the place to be.
On the surface that might seem like some kind of sick, cynical joke — but only if you’ve never actually been to Wisconsin or never actually known a Wisconsinite. We Wisconsin folk are, in fact, are the true heirs of the SPIRIT of St. Valentine, not some fromage-swilling, knee-breech wearing, bewigged European aristocrats. No, our love is the pure love of chaste devotion rather than decadent sensuality — a love as honest, callow and enduring as the heartland fields of corn whose bounty forms the pith and marrow of our very bones. Some may accuse us of being naive and inexperienced hayseeds, but this we take as the highest compliment: it is only the birthright of the Most Typical Americans of All.
My overseas friends will recognize this fact immediately and uncontroversially. Americans value no virtues more highly than simplicity and earnestness. This is reflected time and time again by our selection of popular culture romantic icons, whose primary qualifications are a bland, uncomplicated physical symmetry and a conventional, unchallenging cast of mind. Realizing the verity of the old adage that “God doesn’t open one door without closing another” — and being properly skeptical of the horrors that may lie behind the impenetrable secret of the human soul — we Americans have made the supremely sensible compromise of raising to our national pedastal only the most physically stunning but mentally and morally mediocre women. Let’s take a brief tour of some of those icons of yesteryear and meditate a bit about what it takes to be raised to the pantheon as the American Venus.
Continued at Dystopia Diaries