Friends: You may have noticed that Tiger Beatdown is a little quieter than usual. There are several reasons for this. For one, there is the Bi-Coastal Tiger Beatdown Tour happening right now, with me writing this on a bus to Boston, and Garland heading off to Austin for the SXSW. (“The South” is a coast, right? It’s the South Coast. It’s further South than other things. But North of others! Such as, for example, Mexico. GEOGRAPHY LESSON OVER!) For two, I was tired! And for three, I was recovering from a very specific, potentially imaginary medical procedure. You see, I have had… AN ABLOGTION.
Yes, it’s true. Grizzly Fetus is no more. Well, he is not on this BLOG any more, anyway. Truly, I never thought this day would come! And yet, I was lucky. In the end, the person who helped me to blogbort Grizzly Fetus was Grizzly Fetus himself.
It’s a complicated tale, to be sure. Any weblortion is; this is the precise reason why we need free and unfettered access to imaginary medical procedures for removing equally imaginary fetuses from our non-imaginary blogs. Who can foresee all of the complications that might arise, during an imaginary fetus’s time as a blog contributor? Who can accurately gauge all of the reasons a person might want a fetus extracted from his or her “Users” list? What piece of legislation can really cover all of the potential scenarios, and what, precisely, gives someone the right to decide that one reason for ablorgting is any better or more valid than any other reason?
But, in the end, as I’ve said, it came down to Grizzly Fetus himself. And mostly he was just pissy because other fetuses were getting more attention.
It was the Columbus Two that got to him, I think. I won’t claim that Grizzly Fetus and I have ever been friends, but I think I know him pretty well, at this point — it was my blog he got himself lodged in, after all — and one thing I know is that he’s a fairly ambitious fetus. (Well. “Ambitious” is one way to put it. Another way might be “grandstanding” and “self-promoting” and “obnoxious.” But he’s not on my blog any more! So I don’t have to worry about it!) To be honest, like a lot of unborn yet ambitious folks, I think that he thought he could ascend to power very quickly, without paying his dues. First fetus blogger, first fetus politician, first fetus President, etc. So imagine his suprise when he learned that other fetuses — fetuses that were not imaginary — were already making legislation!
Yes, that a link to a video of two fetuses “testifying” (their testimony would appear to be “slight rhythmic bumping noise!” Or, in one fetus’s case, “…”) in beautiful Columbus, Ohio. Hometown of Sady Doyle, and now, apparently, home to Professor Baby-Talk and Her Traveling Fetal Circus. Yes, there is much of absurdity to enjoy, at the Fetal Circus. (Professor Baby-Talk, on Pam Stenzel and/or an imaginary fetus’s feelings on rape and incest exemptions: “My Daddy raped my Mommy, but did I deserve the death penalty?” No, but that sentence does. As does Professor Baby-Talk’s forthcoming series on sexual assault, “Oh, No! I Got an Owie in My Hoo-Ha, And Now Nasty Mean Ladies Are Telling Me I Have Rights,” which I just made up, because BARF. CAN WE PLEASE NOT BE CUTE ABOUT SEXUAL ASSAULT RIGHT NOW, PROFESSOR.) But it was too much for Grizzly Fetus!
“For God’s sake, Doyle,” is what he said to me, “BLOGGING? Why the Hell did I think I could accomplish anything by BLOGGING? You certainly haven’t. Look at you!”
“Yes, Grizzly Fetus,” I said, in tones of warm encouragement, “look at me. Do you want this to be your life?”
“Just the other day, you got mustard on the INSIDE OF YOUR JEANS,” said Grizzly Fetus.
“It certainly is a predicament,” I replied. “And should you continue blogging…”
“You’ve made ABSOLUTELY NOTHING OF YOUR LIFE!” Grizzly Fetus continued. “RARELY have I seen such a sad spectacle! Although I can’t see, because I don’t technically have eyes yet! But the stench of your pathetic failure radiates even through my imaginary eye buds! Which can also, I’ve decided, smell failure!”
“GRIZZLY FETUS!” I said. “YOUR POINT IS PROVEN. And, of course, correct. There’s very little you can accomplish by blogging. Perhaps if you changed careers?”
“QUIET, Doyle,” said Grizzly Fetus. “Your half of the conversation, much like all of your articles, has gone WAY over word count. I was going to tell you about this idea I had! All by myself! About how I should change careers!”
“You don’t mean…”
“YES, Doyle,” said Grizzly Fetus. “The best course of action for me is, clearly, PUBLIC SPEAKING! All I need is a host, and a stupid lady, and a microphone, and a heartbeat, and the apparently boundless complacency of the great state of Ohio, and I am SET! The American public will not be able to resist my charisma!”
“Oh, I am sure they would not, Grizzly Fetus!” I said. “But you would have to incarnate yourself. Which means you would have to quit blogging.”
“ONCE MORE I AM FORCED TO ASK YOU TO SHUT UP,” said Grizzly Fetus. “I am too busy trying to incarnate myself right now.”
“I’ll miss you, Grizzly Fetus,” I said.
“I have to go now,” said Grizzly Fetus. “My home planet needs me.”
And then he was gone. Thoroughly blogborted from this plane of existence. And his t-shirts raised $75! Woo! So, yes, America (or: the portion of America that reads Tiger Beatdown, and also maybe Canada or whatever, too): We have reached the End of Grizzly Fetus. Use condoms, if you need to, and don’t be shy about aborting any stray unwanted fetuses you find hanging around the uterus. After all, you never know where Grizzly Fetus will strike next.
Although it will probably be on Twitter.