I just saw an elevenish-year-old girl wearing this shirt. She was at a little league game with her dad, and presumably little brother. What the heck? Is there some alternate meaning of 'do me' that I am too out of touch to apprehend?
I'm pretty certain that is the same version of "do me" that is common vernacular.
I kinda put this sorta thing in the same category as letting your kids buy Abercrombie and Fitch and letting them play with Bratz dolls. (As in, it will be a cold day in hell when my theoretical kids are allowed to spend their allowance that way.)
This is why we can't have nice thingseidetekerJune 23 2007, 01:27:07 UTC
Every time there's a media crisis about the pedophile menace, I wonder what's being done about the people who peddle child sexuality. I mean, I realize childhood's a fairly recent invention (~100 years or so?), but maybe we shouldn't be so quick to throw it out just because doing so moves product.
And goddamn you for picking that icon. Tears in my eyes, I'm laughing so hard. Or crying. I can't tell anymore!
Re: This is why we can't have nice thingssanspoofJune 23 2007, 11:21:00 UTC
I pretty much ignored that whole Jeffrey-Jones-as-pedo thing when it went by, so probably mostly this was just a happy accident. Then again, maybe his leer is universally creepy.
That’s true. Presumably he would also be quite intolerant of any one attempting to “Do her” as the case may be, then again maybe not.
In our neck of the woods we have an over abundance of kids like that. It’s creepy as hell.
Next time you see him walk up and ask in a bad foreign voice “How much for the daughter?” Like the skit from Blues Brothers when they are at the fine restaurant, see how that flies!
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Think I'm gonna go lay my head on the railroad track and wait for the Double E.
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You know, the biography by his daughter (named Crystal for some reason, criminy) is out now. I am curious, but also skeptical.
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I kinda put this sorta thing in the same category as letting your kids buy Abercrombie and Fitch and letting them play with Bratz dolls. (As in, it will be a cold day in hell when my theoretical kids are allowed to spend their allowance that way.)
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And goddamn you for picking that icon. Tears in my eyes, I'm laughing so hard. Or crying. I can't tell anymore!
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In our neck of the woods we have an over abundance of kids like that. It’s creepy as hell.
Next time you see him walk up and ask in a bad foreign voice “How much for the daughter?” Like the skit from Blues Brothers when they are at the fine restaurant, see how that flies!
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