Cruising with Paula Deen


I’ve never heard of the woman. Ah, lovely big planet.

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The Eye of Mordor, The optometrist sign from The Great Gatsby, and now the photo illustration to this post.


Holy crap, that was a lot of words and paragraphs about Paula Deen and her fans. Here are two to sum it up quicker: No thanks.


I got the same vibe. I’m a relatively fast reader, and halfway through, just for giggles, I continued scrolling to the bottom to see how much was left. Wowsers. ThatsalottaPaula. And too much for me. Maybe Gawker pays by the word?

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I read this near the start of the article:

“I learned that the weirdest place Paula Deen has ever had sexual congress with her second husband Michael Groover, according to Paula Deen, is on a train traveling from New York City to Savannah, Ga.”

…and knew I would read the whole thing.

Every time I see Paula Deen mentioned, it reminds me of how delighted I am that I don’t live in Savannah any more.


Sailing the seas of cheese

I am racist, because I get upset at the black people in our group for not acting like I think black people should act on the Paula Deen cruise (i.e. frosty and indignant; or at the very least incredulous).

Someone get Tumblr on the line; there are a bunch of white 20-somethings that are going to lose their ever-loving minds if/when they see that.

Does this mean that next summer there will be a bunch of people shelling out thousands of dollars to hop on a cruise with that “Duck Dynasty” guy? Because we must take that boat down at all costs.


Observe caution. That particular cruise ship will probably be packing more heat than some nation states.


That was the thought that ran through my head when I hit the paragraph where she spent 335 words listing all of the items she ate on the cruise. Alas, she just missed the 7,000 word mark.

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“Hmm should I peruse this bit of text on the subject of a tainted, dried up old knackery?, Only 7 comments, these people will know. Near 7000 words of tainted old knackery!? Methinks not!”

Thank you again bbs commentators, subtracting the time of thought, the time to read your thoughts & type this, I have still benefitted of saving.


I thought it was pretty hilarious - an arch way of telegraphing just how mind-numbingly dull the whole affair was. See also her comment re: the other two reporters, one of whom she describes in friendly, glowing detail, and one of whom she characterises as “also on the cruise.”

I too got tired well before the end of this piece. She should have saved this bit, at least, for another post:

Her husband, a ramrod straight-standing white-haired man recently retired from a government job, demonstrates a unique talent for being able to stare out at the horizon without moving or speaking for hours at a time. I spend the next few days considering his inner monologue, wondering exactly what I am watching him see. (Eventually I settle on: himself, in his younger days, discreetly killing people.)

This would have been a good opportunity to bring the staring eyes tag over from RPS, Rob.

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