Mad Atoms

Now that pictures are circulating on the web showing Prince William’s royal weiner hanging out, I can only conclude that Western civilization’s longstanding battle with dignity has finally been lost. Does anyone actually desire to see any flacid penis? I chose to avert my eyes, but I’m guessing it looks like a baby carp peeking out from a swath of royal pubic hair. What’s next? Two princes and a cup?

But my outrage isn’t just about the putrid, rotting, shit-covered corpse of so-called decent society— this is about the Brits copping our style, again. Isn’t it enough that they stole rap music and turned it into Lily Allen and The Streets? Now they have to take our national penchant for public indecency and make it their own?

Sure, they’re still clinging to the guise that public urination isn’t on par with blatant gratuitous flashing of the genitals, a la Lindsay Lohan (or LL Cool Gay, as I like to call her) and Paris Hilton, whose vaginas have been winking at the public for years now. But Amy Winehouse’s gut wrenching, vomit-in-my-mouth inducing, diaper-clad vagina flap horrorfest has clearly led the way to even the most refined elements of British society whipping out the family jewels at the drop of a hat. What happened to being ashamed of their bodies?

And what happened to looking down on Americans from their high horses? Seriously, what use are the British if they’re no longer in a position to make us Yanks feel bad about ourselves for being such cheap sluts. Wanton penis exposure used to be OUR thing. Their thing used to be showing too much ankle from across the ballroom. 



Who’s slutty now, Britian? You are.