The highlight of my year, I'm almost tempted to say my life so far, has been to see in an endless instant replay loop the moment Wendi Murdoch stands by her man and tries to counter attack the pie thrower, as if she was in an episode of Jerry Springer.
I will love this moment forever and I don't even know why, but I suspect it has to do with the refreshing unraveling of the ruthless vulgarity of this family. Contrary to the opinion of a lot of people, I do not feel sorry for Rupert Murdoch, with or without a pie in the face. He deserves worse. As Stephen Colbert suggested, maybe a kidney pie would be more fitting.
However, the pie throwing incident made me ponder an important issue:
Why shaving cream instead of whipped cream?
Shaving cream leaves the victim smelling like three hundred cologne wearers crammed into a subway car, which is not necessarily a good thing. It probably stings the eyes and tastes horrible. Whereas good old fashioned whipped cream is sticky, so that finally flies can overcome their queasiness and hang on to the victim, but the upside is that it's yummy and you can lick it off yourself (unless it's curdled, which could be an interestingly cruel version).
Such are the things that preoccupy me this ridiculously hot and humid morning.