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Sailor Moon is Bad For You

First, some green chick with wings is like singing and stuff, and then Sailor Moon and her friends show up.  I was prepared to turn off the TV at this point, but then I thought, Hold on!  Here comes a catfight!  But no, much to my dismay, they start changing their clothes and accessories with some sort of magic (what a pitiful super-power), and they take FOREVER to do it, which was actually a refreshing display of realism so rarely seen on TV these days.  I was able to change into jeans and a t-shirt way before Sailor Moon and company could get their shit together.  Granted, their outfits were far more flashy and coordinated than my own, but c'mon, it's magic for crissakes.

Anyway, instead of fighting, they beat the green chick with singing, and all the while there's pink hearts flying across the screen, and then the green chick leaves.  That's right, no conflict at all.  Fighting through song?  What a horrible, misguided message to deliver to young people.  I mean, do you think singing can actually resolve anything?  I often wonder how many world-peace rallies featuring bleeding-heart celebrities and singing children it will take before Kim Jong-Il cracks and agrees to get rid of the nuclear weapons.  Probably seventeen at the very least.  If world history has taught us anything, it's that lots of violence, followed by brief periods of talking and negotiation are what ultimately bring disputes to a temporarily satisfying conclusion.  Anyway, I was so distracted by the absolute stupidity of the show that I accidentally bit my tongue while I was eating, and the end of the song-fight was punctuated by the metal tang of blood in my mouth.

But it didn't end there.  No, sir.  The Sailor Moon crew all high-five each other or something and proceed to dive into the ocean (consequently transforming into mermaids) to save some drowned unconscious dude.  Of course, CPR is always as simple as dragging someone from the water, and maybe shaking him a few times.  So sure enough, the unconscious dude wakes up on the beach and the girls have got their legs back a-la Darryl Hannah in Splash, and he mumbles some soggy-bread line like, "Whoa, how'd I get here...what happened?"  Any male who watches this crap with interest ought to feel a deep sense of shame for wasting precious seconds of his life that could have been better spent picking scabs.

And ladies: when your heroines have abilities that only enhance their hair, clothes, makeup, and accessories, it's a clue for you to wake up and stop frittering your lives away thinking about fingernails, nail polish, eye glitter, lip gloss, highlights, hair clips, jewellery, and shiny things in general.  Stop hiding yourself under that shit.  And the high heels are ridiculous.  You're not fooling anyone by standing on your tippy-toes.  Accept that you're short, stop damaging your feet, and just wear whatever’s comfortable.  I laugh my ass off when some woman in high heels suddenly has the need to move quickly (say, to catch a train, dodge a vehicle, or get out of the rain) and stumbles because of the need to make everyone believe she's 3 to 6 inches taller than she really is.

That reminds me: I met a girl yesterday who told me she'd just bought five pairs of "really cute and funky" shoes over the Internet.  I couldn't help myself and asked her the next logical question:

There's a period of time when you first meet someone in which you're not quite sure what to make of them.  Are they intelligent?  Outgoing?  Shy?  Boring?  Hilarious?  Perverted?  It's often hard to tell.  Then they go and say something with a condescending, deadpan expression like, "Look fabulous.  What else?" which allows you to peg them squarely into the airhead / clod / dumbshit category of your acquaintances.  Fortunately, these people can rarely hide that part of their character for very long, so they're easy to identify. 

Where was I?  Oh yeah, Sailor Moon.  Any otaku who watches Sailor Moon because he thinks the girls are hot is a complete loser.  These 20- to 30-year-old dregs of society blow their paycheques on manga, action figures, posters, DVDs, novelties, and dress up as their favourite anime character at comic-book conventions.  It undoubtedly takes a lot of balls for them to display their eccentricity so openly, but if you've ever met one of these oddballs, you'll begin to doubt whether they have any balls since they're so effeminate from repeated viewings of that girlish trash.

It's a cartoon, ya morons.  Go find yourself some real human beings to lust over...well, as real as can be found, with all those glosses, creams, hair colours, fake nails and eyelashes, piercings, tattoos, and of course, high heels.

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