All that stuff he said on Bubba the Love Sponge? He was right. He was so right. He was so right he doesn’t even know how right he was.
I hope your gratitude practice is on point, kids, because we have witnessed Jesus-level rightness and it is time to fall on your knees and hear the angel voices.
Like, if Jesus got a 1580 on the SATs, TC just scored a perfect 1600. How did Tucker “Ken Doll” Carlson outscore the actual son of God, you ask? Um, feel free to check my facts on this, but I believe that Tuck the Truck has never been crucified for speaking his truth. Game, set, match, “JESUS.”
Let’s take a closer look at all the Tucker Carlson-brand rightness! Like, if you can even handle it, which, if you read this shrill harpy castrating feminist craphole blog, you definitely can’t, but whatevs! Since when has Tuck Thunder ever given a shit about whether or not women want to handle the shit that he has taken and is about to dump on their doors? Fucking NOT LATELY, amIright ladies?
Tucker Carlson was right when he said…
Okay, so, first of all, Tucker, you shiny-faced middle-aged dream, get out of my head and into my car! OMG but don’t because you are too right and I need this truth even more than I needed this double scotch after I read the full transcript of your statements on Bubba Love Douche Bucket or what the fuck ever.
I am a primitive creature! Primitive creatures operate in a theater of survival in which they understand that every living organism exists to either consume or be consumed, and primitive creatures understand where they live on that spectrum. That’s totally me!!! And my mom!!!! AND ALL MY FRIENDS!!!!!!!!
The only thing our brains want to do every day is keep us alive. “Stay alive” is one of the reason I picked these shoes today! How did you even know? You know what, I’m just glad you noticed! So thoughtful of you! Classic Carlson.
And shut the front door wide open, Tucky Duck! I am basic. I have a Longchamp tote! The same one your aunt has.
“Which aunt, Katie?”
ALL YOUR AUNTS, pumpkin!
We’re basic! I wear Vans. I drink Americanos. I love STRIPED SWEATERS and DRESSES with POCKETS. You fucking nailed me. I’m BASIC!
I just want to VOTE like a basic bitch, and be able to say, like, “Nah, I don’t want your baby, I’m actually pursuing my Master’s degree right now and that shit would really complicate my life plan, which I don’t think is a good reason for me to suppress my healthy sex drive, which is an important part of living a full human life, don’t you agree? Bro?”
And for real. FOR REAL for real. The thing I hate most? In this whole world? Is crusty washcloths that used to be wet and dried in weird shapes. But the thing I hate SECOND-MOST? Is weak men.
You. Are. So. Right.
I hate weak men. I hate them. I hate the way they use sexual violence to humiliate and silence women as early and as often as they can. I hate they way they blame us when they are called to account for their shitty behavior, as if the problem was not their violence or even our pain, but the noise we made when they inflicted it. I fucking hate weak men who are so chickenshit scared of women that they have to call them fat, ugly, cunty, shallow, stupid whores in order to try to convince them to remain in the little cupboard under the stairs that you think fits them just right, those basic, primitive women you love so fucking much.
I hate weak men who make their living finding other weak men who will laugh at their cheap jokes that weren’t even funny the first time the first weak-ass chickenshit hack told them 400 years ago. I hate weak men who revere louder weak men for their unique ability to humiliate other people.
Great fucking point, Tucker Carlson. So far, you are way more accurate than my horoscope, which promised me a peaceful evening of quiet reflection.
Tucker Carlson was right when he said…
Can I get real with you for a minute here?
(slow jam music and lighting in 3… 2…)
Because girl?
Honestly, there is nothing sexier in this whole world than a man who will get vulnerable. Open up. Talk about his deepest fears. Out loud. On a radio show. Called Bubba Gump Shrimp Love Company. Or something.
Tuck-Tuck, baby. I know. I know you’re scared. I know you’re scared that someday a woman is going to come into your life and make you feel like your clammy dick isn’t a magic grand wizard’s staff anymore. I know that the thing that keeps you up at night sweating through your monogrammed silk pajamas, is the boner-deep terror that out there, in the world, somewhere, is a woman who doesn’t give a fuck about the seat of your power. Your manhood. Your right to plunge uninvited into wherever you feel you belong.
You’re right, baby. You’re so right. You’re right to be afraid.
And I thank you for your courage. Let’s give Tuck-Tuck a round of applause. Let’s show him some love. I think he needs it. I think that’s what he just told us. Brave little man.
Tucker Carlson was right when he said…
TUCKER CARLSON IS NOT FOR CHILD RAPE, BUT HE IS EVEN MORE NOT FOR HURTING DOGS.
AND HE IS RIGHT.
Dogs are innocent! Not like children who shit in inconvenient places and sometimes force you to make midnight trips to the 24-hour clinic when they won’t stop whining.
Dogs trust their people! Not like children, who depend on the adults in their lives to provide food, shelter, safety, love, education, stability, and an example of functioning humanity.
Killing a dog is a vicious, sociopathic act of cruelty! Not like raping a child, who will, fun fact, actually live longer than a murdered dog, and who will have to live the rest of that long life, fun fact, in conversation with deep shame about the things that adults did to them before they were old enough to defend themselves.
TUCKER CARLSON IS RIGHT AND WE SHOULD ALL BE HOLDING EVERY SINGLE ACT OF HUMAN DEPRAVITY UP AGAINST DOG MURDERING BECAUSE IF YOU CAN FIND SOMETHING AWFUL TO STAND NEXT TO, YOU WON’T LOOK AS FUCKED AND GNARLY AS YOU ACTUALLY ARE WHICH IS SERIOUSLY THE BESTEST POINT LIKE ARE YOU A DEBATE COACH BECAUSE THAT ARGUMENT IS AIR-FUCKING-TIGHT TUCK-BONE.
Tucker Carlson was right when he said (about Warren Jeffs, a cult leader who arranged marriages between teenage girls and adult men)…
You guys. YOU GUYS. Listen. Listen to Tucker “Better SATs than Jesus” Carlson. He is RIGHT about this.
TOUCHING SOMEBODY IS NOT THE SAME AS PUTTING SOMEONE ELSE IN A ROOM SO THAT ANOTHER PERSON CAN TOUCH THAT SOMEBODY. First of all, you don’t even get to touch them, which seems, like, kind of unfair, after you did all that work to peruse the young girl merchandise on Frank’s behalf. Or whoever.
But all that aside, we all know that the only crime that can be committed is actual touching, and then only by a stranger, and then only if he’s not white or nice, and even then, only if he’s from out of town, and even then, only if he’s got a really bad mug shot. And even then, if he’s sorry, it’s fine.
Forcing a teenager to marry an older man in a culture where her consent is not even a factor? NOT THE SAME as pulling a stranger off the street and raping her!
So many differences!!! Can I even? I’m not sure that I can. But I’m gonna try.
Like, first? There is no pulling involved in a forced marriage between a child bride and an adult man. There is PUSHING. Which is DIFFERENT from pulling. AND GOODER THAN PULLING. Way less violent. Much cozier. Pushing is with the flat of a hand, see. Pulling has more, you know, yanking involved. Pushing is more of a, whoops, there she goes! Once it’s done, it’s like, can anyone even remember if she wanted it? Who cares, right!
And like, pulling a stranger? There are no strangers in this situation! These girls get auctioned off to grown men by people they know and love and trust! So much better. So much healthier. Really good for the girls to be reminded that everyone they know is on board with a decision that Grandpa Jeff made about her life, vagina, and future (not necessarily in that order).
And rape? RAPE? Come on. If a stranger attacks a girl in a parking garage, that’s a single act of beastly violence that’s almost as bad as hurting a dog. But if she’s married to him, like, that’s just part of figuring out their relationship, you know? Like, also, it’s really none of our business what a good adult man does with his teenage wife that an old man gave him, in the privacy of their bedroom, as long as we can guarantee that she has a baby after it.
Honestly, there are so many more truth bombs that I don’t know if I can cover.
About teachers who rape 13-year-old boys:
“They are doing a service to all 13-year-old girls by taking the pressure off. They are a pressure relief valve, like the kind you have on your furnace.”
Has anyone asked the teachers why they’re raping 13-year-old boys? Maybe they’re just FEMINISTS. Maybe they’re just trying to save the 13-year-old girls from the sexual violence of their male peers by modeling sexual violence to their 13-year-old male peers. Because there’s no way there was anything else those 13-year-old boys would be doing to release the sexual pressure. Not in some kind of bathroom or sock-type receptacle. The choices were definitely not, “Let these boys experiment with masturbation until they found a consenting partner of an appropriate age” or “Rape them, Mrs. Schlassfender. Do it for the girls. For you are a feminist, are you not.”
About 14-year-old girls exploring their sexuality with each other at boarding school:
“If it weren’t my daughter, I would love that scenario.”
I TOO LOVE THE IDEA OF YOUNG WOMEN HAVING THE CHANCE TO EXPLORE THEIR SEXUALITY WITH AGE-APPROPRIATE PARTNERS IN CONSENSUAL RELATIONSHIPS. I TOO BELIEVE THAT YOUR DAUGHTER’S SEXUAL LIFE IS NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS. THAT’S WHAT YOU MEANT ISN’T IT? TUCKER? TUCK? T-HOUND? T-SACK? BUDDY?
But there is one more Tucker Carlson gem that I cannot skip, for the rightness is just so very right.
And that’s Tucker Carlson’s supreme tweet that he dropped after these transcripts surfaced.
He wrote:
tucker carlson’s own damn twitter feed
He was right: ritual contrition is bullshit. None of these fuckers are actually sorry, any more than my 4-year-old is sorry when I catch him with a half-empty sleeve of Oreos. They’re not sorry. They have full bellies and nothing to lose.
What, can I turn back time to remove the Oreo cookies, rape apologies, or hostile misogynistic slurs from their mouths? They know I can’t. So it is what it is. This shit happened, Mommy. What are you gonna do about it?
And the idea of Tucker Carlson issuing some kind of statement about how much he respects women and how the remarks were made at a difficult time in his life because he’d gone off processed sugar or some fucking nonsense like that? It makes me want to vomit a full belly of seafood chowder right on Tucker Carlson’s favorite wig stand.
I’m not interested in his insincere apology, especially because you know that shit would have been a classic non-apology:
Tucker Carlson opened his latest program with a sincere plea that we all buy gold and subscriptions to an identity theft protection service, but then after the first commercial break he took a moment to address the controversial claims about the things he may or may not have repeatedly said into a recording device after identifying himself: “I have no memory of saying such things, but if your feelings were hurt by the visionary true words I said, if I said them, then I certainly apologize for what the mainstream media has done to you, you basic bitch/cuck.”
No.
No, no, no.
No.
Me? I’m glad Tucker Carlson felt the urge to repeatedly put himself on the record against women’s humanity. On a day when the clocks literally shifted an hour away from my lived reality, these transcripts reminded me that at least one thing remains immutable:
Tucker Carlson is a sad, scared, oversized toddler who has sweaty dreams of taking mouthy women to his sex dungeon* and teaching them to hate his weakness.
*It’s not really a sex dungeon. It’s a jerkoff daylight basement.
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