Last night’s Glee episode dealt with Sam trying to win Quinn back by channeling Justin Bieber. “Who’s more rock ’n’ roll than Bieber?” he asked.
Well if appearing on the cover of Rolling Stone with accompanying comments about abortion and rape makes you “rock ’n’ roll”, then so be it!
There’s been a lot of controversy surrounding said comments, no doubt, with most of the blame placed on Bieber. Sure, he’s a 17-year-old (that’s right, Beliebers, it’s his birthday today! ZOMG!) male who will never know what it is to be a woman faced with an unwanted pregnancy and the question of whether to abort it. Not to mention the fact that he leads an incredibly sheltered life removed from the reality of everyday folk like you and me. But, seriously, what was the interviewer thinking when she asked Bieber those questions? They’re relevant how?
I feel a bit sorry for him, to be honest. He’s being ripped to shreds for these comments, when really, all he had to say was “no comment”. I’m sure as a teenage boy whose entire existence in the public eye depends on him being a “people pleaser”, he didn’t feel like he could say “no comment”. Well, I’m here to tell you, Justin: Just say “no comment”.
This episode was filmed before the Rolling Stone article went viral but, like those GQ photos, Glee’s never let a little controversy get in their way. And we already know they’re pro-life, with the absence of a proper talk with Quinn about her options when she finds out she’s pregnant.
But back to the episode at hand.
Sam’s other option to win back Quinn is to take her hunting. But according to guest blogger Andrew, this isn’t a feasible one:
“My dad always said there’re two ways to get a woman to love you: take her hunting, and rock and roll.”
Thank God it’s not theorized that the hunt must be successful. The chance of catching a deer with a heavily perfumed woman complaining audibly about the temperature, the undergrowth, the smell, the required lack of fashion sense and the cold canned food lunch trailing noisily behind you is practically zero. And any woman who doesn’t do these things is already taken.
But let’s imagine that said girl agrees to come hunting with me, and we do catch the proverbial Bambi unawares. And that she keeps quiet long enough for me to shoot it. Here’s what follows:
I’m holding down the beautiful, majestic animal as it goes through its death spasms, and blood begins to run over my hands and onto my clothes. The first romantic act in which the female must engage is an awkward dance around the carcass, designed to ward off flies. Whilst this dance continues, the deer’s stomach cavity is sliced open and, reaching up into its ribcage, I remove all the internal organs, getting its visceral matter all over my arms, coated in the smell of its innards. At this point I might turn around and ask for a celebratory hug, and to pose for a Facebook photo together!
Then, the second task for the female is required. She must peel back the folds of skin whilst I delicately remove it and the attached sinew from the cuts of flesh, and this must be interspersed over the next two hours with the aforementioned dance as I remove, and then debone, cuts of meat.
How exactly is this supposed to ignite the passions of a woman? Could it be walking, wading and climbing kilometres back to camp with mosquitoes everywhere, with parts of Bambi on her back, stinking up the place?
Nah, it must have been the tent sex the night before.
Images via Megavideo.