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I have nothing to say, really, about John Stossel working for FoxNews, except, perhaps, what I said when Mary informed me that Army Archerd was dead: “You mean he wasn’t already?”

Still, it’s an auspicious event, which ought to be marked in some manner, but I’m getting ready for my first appointment with the physical therapist, so I thought I’d just repost this wedding announcement from July, 2006, which was inspired by this bit o’ libertarian wisdom:

Half the states in America have banned cousin marriage, but there’s no good reason for it. You can marry your cousin and have perfectly intelligent kids.

Hear, hear!  Anyway, gotta go.  I want to get to the reception before all the corn liquor’s gone.

Meredith Lisa Stossel, the daughter of Bridget and Harold Stossel of Dogpatch, New Jersey was married Saturday, July 15, 2006 to John Bubba Stossel, the son of Sharon and Phillip Stossel of West Dogpatch, New Jersey.  Pastor A. Rand officiated at Our Lady of Perpetual Chromosonal Damage in East Dogpatch, New Jersey.

The hillbilly-themed wedding and reception took place at the Hoot-n-Holler Garden of Love in South Dogpatch.  The Best Man was the groom’s brother and son, the Maid of Honor was the bride’s mother, aunt, and second cousin twice removed.  The flower girls and ringbearer were human-animal hybrids.

The Stossel/Stossel Wedding Party.  From L to R on groom’s side:  Groom John Stossel.  Cousin Clem Stossel.  Cousin Lum Stossel.  Brother/Father Cletus Stossel.  Second cousin Abner Stossel.  Third Cousin Jebediah Stossel and his conjoined twin, Chang Stossel.  Brother and possible uncle Rip Stossel.  From L to R on Bride’s side:  Second Cousin Rose of Sharon Stossel, first Cousin and probable half-sister Rebecca Stossel, some transvestite from a local barber shop quartet, aunt Jane Darwell Stossel-McCoy, sister/sister-in-law Cissy Stossel-Stossel, Lorna Hayduke, who isn’t related to the rest of the family, but she’s her own mother, and the Bride.

13 Responses to “Congratulations John Stossel!”

Mer’dif Leesay Stossill, the l’il gal o’ Br’dgit an’ Harl Stossill o’ Dawgpetch, Noo Jersee ware marred Satiday, Jewlie Fiteef, 2000 an’ 6 tew Jawn Bubba Stossill, th’ l’il boy ob Shar’n ‘n Fellep Stossill of Wust Dawgpetch, Noo Jersee. Paster Ay. Ran’ dun th’ deed at Our Lady of Perpetual Chromosonal Damage the Pentecostal Baptiss Chuch In th’ Hollah in Ees Dawgpetch, Noo Jersee.

Fixed for regional accuracy and spellchecked.

From the department of News That Kinda Sucks, veteran TV writer/producer/director Larry Gelbart passed away at 81. I’m fairly certain his contribution the “M*A*S*H” was greater and more lasting the Burt Prelutsky’s. (Was God’s aim off or something? Or maybe he thought, “Hey, Burt’s braindead already, so, kinda redundant.”)

So the howl of vacuous stupid isn’t quite as loud on 20/20 anymore?

When my mother was dying, I forced the doctor to put her on IV morphine.

When she got to where she could speak, I told her that we going to clear up all of the matters that we had not dared speak of before.

The first question I asked, was why was that lady screaming for days?

My mother said, you couldn’t have been two years old. She knew exactly what I was talking about.

She said that old women in the neighborhood had gone over to inspect a fresh born baby in the hollar next to where we lived. Baby was wrong. She didn’t say why. They took the baby outside in winter and did not feed it, give it water, no shelter, no warmth,nothing. Held the mother indoors.

Brutal, yes, my hillbilly ancestors and that generation were brutal, they knew what inbreeding could result in. I have great genes because of what my fore bearers did to protect the gene pool.

Stossel is remarkable in that you could cut out a photo of his face and glue it on top of any of the faces on a Village People album cover and the result would be nearly indistinguishable from the original. (I think it’s it’s an optical illusion created by the porn-star ‘stache.)

Come to think of it, a Stossel segment is a lot like a dirty movie: a guy with a big moustache appears on screen, delivers some terrible dialogue, screws everyone in sight, and after it’s all over you just feel dirty and ashamed for having watched.

and after it’s all over you just feel dirty and ashamed for having watched

Porn watchin’: ur not doin’ it right.

He’s right of course: You’re not that close to your parents’ siblings’ offspring in the gene pool.

But speaking of creepy movies, and we were, “Sonny Boy” on TCM right now.

Geeks In The Desert is an extremely popular subject for people who have no story to tell, but see some interesting cinematography.

I hate them for it.

He’s right of course: You’re not that close to your parents’ siblings’ offspring in the gene pool.

Well, the risk of birth defects is thought to be roughly doubled, meaning that if one wants to make a real argument about this, for whatever reason, it’s that advancements in genetic testing, coupled with the right to terminate a pregnancy, have obviated the (supposed) justification for all those state laws. Though Stossel ain’t about to make that argument to his target audience.

(Same as the fact that he’s not about to air a libertoonian broadside at the uncounted billions we spend enforcing laws against smoking weed, preferring, for some reason, to concentrate on the tragic plight of Americans who want to marry their first cousins, but can’t figure out how to get to any of the twenty-four states where that’s legal.)

Nobody with a passing familiarity with modern genetics believes that all the issue of a cousin marriage will spend its time sitting on the porch with a banjo. I have no idea whether that was a driving factor behind all, some, or any of those twenty-six state laws; perhaps some day a journalist will look it up. The prohibition against first-cousin marriage is more of a folkway. I’d be willing to bet, having done about as much research as he did, but with no soap to peddle, that those laws are as much a product of the urbanization of the US as of mooted science, and that the “prohibition” of cousin marriage is as strong in states with no laws as those with.

The really amusing, or disgusting, thing about all this, depending on how you look at the world, is that Stossel’s a complete sham, and that he thrives only because he cultivates an audience every bit as credulous as the one Coca-Cola gets to drink bottled Jersey tap water at exorbitant prices.

Anecdote, data, etc.

My brother, who is white, married a black woman. They have two kids, who may be assumed to be the product of genetic diversity, for all of those cultural and race-linked disorder issues. Except that both her father and his are schizophrenic, which seems to increase the chances that their children may also become so. Part of the reason I don’t breed myself is that I have lousy genes, but if I were going to, there’d be genetic testing on me and the prospective sperm donor, or at the very damned least a cursory exchange of family medical histories. You don’t have to be related to the other cystic fibrosis carrier you want to have babies with to end up with really bad outcomes, after all. We have the technology, these days, that we can guess what some of the bad problems are going to be when two people have kids. If you’re cousins, and your genes and your backgrounds don’t preclude it, there’s no particular reason the law should, either.

My uncle married his cousin. They’ve produced four boys, all of whom are the closest thing to normal my family does, and one of whom is the only PhD and multimillionaire my family will *ever* give the world, not to mention being cute as hell, extremely brilliant, and also a nice guy.

Sure, inbreeding jokes are funny. I get it. And the carrier genes for certain things are more likely to produce if you marry someone you share your flawed genes with than someone you’re unrelated to. But the problem with cousin-marrying is genetic, not moral, so the solution should be technological, not legal.

I’ve got more issues with John Stossel than the NYT morgue, but this ain’t one of them.

I certainly don’t think John Stossel should marry his cousin, because I’m sure his cousin could do better.

Bill S wins the thread!

I think I can top that with this bit of wisdom from the Abstinence Education folks:

When you play with fire, there is a 50/50 chance something will go wrong, and nine times out of ten it does.

So remember kids, Sex is Bad, mmkay?

When you play with fire, there is a 50/50 chance something will go wrong, and nine times out of ten it does.

The Yogi Berra School of Probability, ladies and gentlemen.

Re Stossel, my favorite gag had to do with his setting out to prove that homeless guys is just lazy, is all, and he did this by driving up to several of ‘em with his van and camera, and telling ‘em to go to a certain address, where they’d do a little light yard work and receive fifty bucks.

Would it surprise you to learn that none of ‘em showed up? Well, actually, one did, but, jeezus, by that time I was laughing so hard, I didn’t even hear John’s closing pontification.

TCM, by the way, redeemed itself this morning with a showing of “High School Confidential”, the most slang-laden teen drug menace movie ever. I clocked it at over a dozen daddy-o’s per minute.

Something to say?