“They took this beautiful man and they basically put poison in him,” she reportedly said. “Why couldn’t they have built him up nutritionally and gotten rid of the toxins in his body? I hate to be controversial. I’m a singer-dancer-comedienne. But we have an epidemic going on, and I have to say it.”

Ok Suzanne, two things:

1. You are not a singer-dancer-comedienne.

Oh, you might have been one or two of those things 40 years ago, but now you’re a saggy bag of Restylane who can’t get any press unless she exploits someone else’s cancer.

2. You don’t “have to say it”.

Not everything that limps into that shriveled cortex of yours needs to be immediately vomited out into the media. Not only is it not responsible, it’s just none of your fucking business.

How do you suppose Patrick Swayze’s family feels reading this? The people who did everything they knew to save him, who suffered countless hours watching him die, how do you think they feel hearing that world renown cancer authority Chrissy Snow thinks he was “poisoned”?

You have no idea, because it never occurred to you that anyone outside of your fake wellness evangelism exists, or has any feelings at all. How dare you presume to judge the way someone manages their own cancer? What possible business is it of yours? You might as well be standing outside a chemo clinic with a poster of a dead baby, spewing your ignorance through a bullhorn, you selfish moron. Why don’t you just picket his funeral? That’s got to be worth a few minutes on Larry King.

“Why couldn’t they have built him up nutritionally?” Well I guess that would have been one way to go, except that YOU CAN’T FUCKING EAT ANYTHING BECAUSE YOU HAVE CANCER IN YOUR PANCREAS, YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT.

3. Shut your fucking mouth, you hypocritical, disgusting fuck bag.

Okay, I realize I that’s three things, but this last one just seemed so important.

Well, they may have something here. I’m an Atheist, and I’m very bitter.

By the way, the only way a child would see someone in their bathrobe with a cup of coffee is if they came to their house. Early. Uninvited.

Hey, there’s a safety tip, huh Lambuel?

- More here

Birds on the Wires from Jarbas Agnelli on Vimeo.

“Reading a newspaper, I saw a picture of birds on the electric wires. I cut out the photo and decided to make a song, using the exact location of the birds as notes (no Photoshop edit). I knew it wasn’t the most original idea in the universe. I was just curious to hear what melody the birds were creating.”

- Jarbas Agnelli

There are a lot of things that are wrong with this country right now.

There’s an unchecked media, trafficking in fear and misinformation for profit. Politicians more beholden to lobbyists than their constituents. A growing climate of cruelty and violence, and the death of intelligent discourse.

But nothing comes closer to destroying America than celebrities naming their children.

Think about it. We’re not just talking about Apple and Talullah Belle and Moxie Crimefighter in group therapy in 2012. There are people in this world who are profoundly influenced by decisions the celebrities make. There are even people who subscribe to GOOP without irony.

That means there are people in the world right now who are naming their children the way the stars do. In the future, there will be entire cities of people named after household objects and types of produce.

“The chair recognizes Edward Cullen Cherimoya Voldemort Kardashian.”

Is this the future you want?

And while we’re on the subject of dipshit celebrities, explain this fucking quote to me:

Oh, okay. Got it.

I might have thought you wanted to spend your life with someone you were deeply connected to. Someone who shared the same vision of the future. Someone who was less invested in what your dreams were, than you actually achieving them.

Turns out it was all about the cardigan. You and Fred Rogers. Mazel Tov.

I hear they’re registered at Talbots.

I must preface this post by saying that I did not create anything you see here. If you read my blog with any regularity, you already know I’m not that creative.

No, every file is real, which means I’m only the curator of this exhibit. If you’re offended by anything you see here, or you think it’s too soon, or you knew someone who knew someone who almost died that day, or you have proof that the Jews all got an email warning them to stay home that day, or Building 7 was actually made of sugar, I don’t know what to tell you. Start with the man in the mirror.

Anyway, there is a lot of crap here, so I’ve taken the liberty of grouping this garbage into the following categories:

Let’s roll!™

• gifs

This was probably the most prolific category of Nine-Elevenalia, and I’m not surprised. After all, in this MySpace-age world we live in, everyone needs a sparkly way to say, “Thanks for the add!” or “Sorry your friends died in that building thingy.”

While there are thousands of glittery memorial snowglobes and weeping eagles on the internet, I have contented myself to show you just a handful. Please download them and put them all over your Facebook today, if only to annoy the terrorists in your extended network.

• music

Of all the tragedy came out of 9/11, nothing is sadder than these.

• tattoos

Unless you put it on your back. Then it’s your wife’s problem.

More here

• merchandise

• personal expression

• inadvertantly offensive

You could make the argument that some of these images were designed to provoke an emotional response, but I think they stop short of pure trolling, which is the gold standard. I also think some of this was pure stupidity, which is not the same as being an asshole.

• deliberately offensive

Trying to make a couple of bucks on 9/11 is one thing.

Trying to get some bullshit advertising award by doing unauthorized, unsolicited work for a charity and making them look like ghouls in the process is something else entirely.

This year’s Twin Douchebag Award goes to . . .

DDB ADVERTISING, BRAZIL

For this spectacularly horrific and ultimately meaningless bit of batshittery.