Thoſe readers with a taſte for the ARTS COMEDICAL were unwittingly treated to an expoſition of ſinfulneſs most ASTONISHING on Saturday night, as Miſs NATALIE PORTMAN, celebrated actreſs of ſtage and ſcreen, performed a ſong ſo ſhockingly BAWDY in nature that much of it was deemed unſuitable for broadcaſt. The diſgraceful performance, in which Miſs Portman regaled the audience with tales of UNSPEAKABLE DEPRAVITY, came during Saturday Night Live, a televiſory entertainment produced—or, in this case, PERPETRATED—by the National Broadcaſting Company. The wretched ſongſtreſs no doubt tempted the Gentlemen of the Board with empty promiſes to perform an inoffenſive advertiſement for Anhililation, a buſineſs venture—preſumably ſome ſort of WHALING VESSEL—in which ſhe is deeply involved. But once the curtain roſe, her DASTARDLY PURPOSE became all too clear. Conſider theſe unholy ſtanzas, which we are reprinting only in the intereſt of fulfilling our NOBLE DUTY of keeping the publick informed:
Xannies dissolving in my Pinot,
My man dance, but he’s not a ballerino,
Yeah, he twinkle his toes, but
He give me good D, though,
Wrap a mean burrito.
Tide Pods only fuckin’ thing I snack on,
Black out and go motherfuckin’ Black Swan,
Brain gone off the fuckin’ ayahuasca, boy,
Tell your tourist parents imma turn you to a foster boy.
Although the poetical nature of theſe lines cannot be denied, even the moſt wretched denizen of a Pariſian houſe of ILL REPUTE would ſurely die rather than loudly proclaim her own DAMNATION as Miſs Portman has done here. Furthermore, her impaſsioned defense of the accurséd Star Wars prequels is ſo twiſted, perverſe, and entirely bereft of TRUTH AND VIRTUE that it muſt ſurely bring doom to all who behold it. Woe to thoſe FOLLOWERS OF THALIA unlucky enough to have yearned for the ſweet conſolations of virtuous laughter on Saturday, only to behold this feſtival of UNHOLY BARBARISM inſtead!
As for the HONOURABLE GENTLEMEN of the National Broadcaſting Company, it is apparent that either their conſciences or their memories have grown DECRIPED WITH AGE. It ſhould not have been a ſurprise to theſe men that Miſs Portman could ſcarce utter a ſentence without ſome HORRID BLASPHEMY eſcaping her lips: Our eldeſt readers will well recall the ſcandal that befell the very ſame network in Anno Domini two thouſand and ſix, when the young actreſs ſhocked the world with a ſong nearly as RIOTOUS and IMPUDENT:
It will, I fear, be as uſeleſs to appeal to Miſs Portman’s immortal ſoul, as it were to beg mercy of the FIERCEST HURRICANO, ſo dedicated is ſhe to living as though there is no God in the world. But the miſcreants who allowed this FILTH to be broadcaſt on televiſion must face the CENSURE AND BLAME of all reſpectable ſociety for permitting Miſs Portman to repeat and compound her paſt offenſes againſt the publick. You gotta admit she’s pretty fucking funny, though.
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