Subscription drive, day 5: A plea from a punny pandemic reporter

Enlarge (credit: Aurich Lawson / Getty)

What a turd of a year, eh? 2020 didn't start with a bang. It started with a plop. It's only April and already we're all frantically fumbling for a lever, hoping to flush this deuce as quickly as possible, praying our toilet-paper stash holds out and the stench doesn't linger.

Maybe we should have seen it all coming. After all, the year began with Gwyneth Paltrow's ridiculous lifestyle brand, Goop, releasing a six-episode Netflix series. Yep, Gwyneth Paltrow: the college-drop-out-turned-actor who couldn't identify a vagina on a diagram while claiming to empower women with a smorgasbord of pseudoscience. The same self-proclaimed wellness guru who endorsed squirting coffee up your keister, shoving a rock into your hooha, and letting bees sting you.

In her Netflix series, the madness continued. Among other things, she praised a wizard chiropractor who manipulates people's energy fields by pretending to do Tai chi near them-like a weird guy in your neighborhood park who wears parachute pants and always smells like sandalwood. (At least it's a social-distancing-compliant method, I guess.)

Read 10 remaining paragraphs | Comments