Because I love Birmingham. But what I love even more, is my hate for Tyra Banks. I wasn’t even thinking of her as I flipped through the t.v. guide to see when the Christmas cartoons were coming on. I gots to get my yearly Rudolph and Grinch fix! Then I see it, the upcoming finale of America’s Next Top Model. Or as Tyra Banks pronounces it, “America’s... Next... Top... Model.” Dramatic pauses Tyra? You do jest. I just wanted to see Frosty The Snowman, but one glimpse of the preview of her upcoming season finale and I was in full anti-Tyra mode. So instead of what I was originally going to write about, it’s going to be Ms. Banks this week. I guess I’ll have to write about Birmingham’s secret plans for a state-of-the-art, combination bingo & casino, Sunday liquor sales pavilion and free clinic owned an operated by Reuben Studdard, Taylor Hicks and Nick Saban next week.
Did you know Random House signed her to a three-book deal? This shit has got to stop! The poor man’s Oprah has been given far too much power and fame. She’s just pretty for god’s sake. Is that all it takes now? I’m sick of the praise pretty people get because they’re pretty people.
My neighbor’s dog is pretty. She also contributes more to society than Tyra. At least her crap fertilizes the begonias. But I’m a fair man. I seriously don’t want to blame her entirely. I blame that audience from her now ended talk show. Those caterwauling bitches used to squeal in delight at anything that drooled out of her idiot mouth. There’s a women’s clothing store called Forever 21. Apparently her audience was forever 13. Morons! I’d hate to be married to, friends of, related to or even live in a 300 square mile radius of these dimwits. Stop screaming when she gives away stuff you could easily by at Walmart. Stop it. Stop iiiiiit! God I hate them and Tyra with the white hot intensity of twelve suns. Her talk show may be gone, but thank God for them, She’s writing a book. I’m sure this abomination of literature will be less intriguing than Twilight but just slightly more than the local penny saver... Slightly. And if you’ll excuse my perpetuation of the stereotype that pretty girls aren’t smart, she can’t actually be writing this herself. She has to have help! I refuse to believe she’s smart enough to write anything more in-depth than a post-it note that reads “chew with mouth” that she has liberally placed throughout her fridge on all her food items. According to her site, the book called Modelland, takes place in a fictional world called Modelland, where ‘Intoxibellas’ live. To quote Tyra, “Intoxibellas are drop-dead beautiful, kick-butt fierce and, yeah, maybe they have some powers too.” What the capital F is happening to the world I live in!
Besides, the collected leather bound works of Tyra, she still has as I mentioned earlier, her other show, America’s Next Top Model. Watching the models on this show is like watching an adorable puppy cross a busy highway. “Oh, she’s so cute. Watch out for that Buick!” The girls on there are delicate, fragile people who cry at the drop of a hat. Especially when they’re being admonished by Tyra.
And I don’t call them girls to belittle them. They are young women around seventeen to twenty something. Young women of course, but in many ways still girls and it shows when you watch. The show puts these girls through a gauntlet of ridiculous modeling assignments, tasks and trials that give them enough anxieties to have them committed. Calm down girls, it’s just modeling. Yeah, I said it. It’s... just... modeling. I refuse to believe that modeling is that hard or that stupid. Finding something silly to write about once a week for a popular local paper? Now that’s hard! My wrists are so sore from typing. I’m getting carpal tunnel for you people. I hope you’re happy with yourselves.
Well I know I apologized for the random Tyra bashing, but I’m about to bring it back to something related to our fair city.
Here’s my holiday wish! I want to meet Tyra Banks. Easier said than done, so I have an alternative.
At first, I found very few ways to curb my frustration for Tyra.
I’m not a druggie, so cocaine is out. I’m not a violent person, so punching out random strangers is out. But I’ve found a way. According to the White Pages, their is a Tyra Banks living in Birmingham! If you’re reading this Birmingham Tyra, I’ll pay you $337.85 to yell at you for 20 minutes. You make a quick buck, and I get to indiscriminately scream at a stranger. It’s a win win!
I know it’s the holiday season, and I should be merry and with good cheer. I’m my most happiest when I’m consumed with disdain for my fellow man. That sounds sad, but fun! As for my comments about Tyra. Critical? Yes. Insulting? Of course. Justified? Always. It’s not that I hate Tyra for no reason. She makes me hate her. I’m the victim. And if you’re thinking hate is a strong word. Yes.
Yes, it is.
vermell