Enough with that decade. Where's the "dislike" button?
On to the tweens! Our hair's as greasy as Jon Gosselin's plugs, our Twitter feed as gummed up as the 111th Congress. The Epic Icon Flush left us orphans of greatness. Cronkite: OUT. Updike: OUT. Farrah and Swayze: OUT and OUT. Funny thing about dying, though: It makes you IN one last time. Upon their deaths, the King of Pop and the Lion of the Senate underwent an image makeover quicker than you can say, "Larry, you're being inappropriate. You really are."
What's left, then? Where are our legends-in-the-making? Queasy from a recessional hangover, we squirmed into our Snuggie (turns out: not comfy, not funny), watched some instant Netflix on our PS3s, and slipped into a sleep (no Propofol, we swear). We dreamed a dream and woke up with a dowdy Scotswoman spooning us in our cultural bed.
There is good news. Washington: Finally IN, and getting inner! So flee New York, head down the Appalachian Trail, grab a beer and join our summit here by the White House gates. We're not on the list, so we made our own. Yes, it's inappropriate, but we did this for the show.
Slutty Strawberry Shortcake
Slutty Rainbow Brite
Used Toyota Tacomas
Steamed pork buns
Korean hot dogs
Uma Thurman's yellow track suit
Non-organic (but really freaking effective) household cleaning products
The Simon Cowell prototype