Bizarro Post Bitter Nihilist Bureau- So you're planning on getting married, huh? Isn't that precious? Devoting your whole life to a person who might die before you do, leaving you miserable and far too old for society to accept you dating again. Or maybe you'll die first. Who gives a shit? And that's assuming your husband doesn't decide to get some strange, or your wife doesn't run away with her tennis instructor named Juan. Here's Bizarro Post's guide to making your "speeecciiaalll dayyyyy" really magical, and in September for some reason. Who the hell gets married this time of year?
FLOWERS
It's Fall, so you can't go wrong with Australian Frilled Tulips with a touch of holly.
Just screwing with you. You're buying plant genitals. Pick you favorite color and put that shit everywhere. Here's a protip: They all look the same when they're dead. Oh, and guess what! So will you.
For bouquets, take a shitload of flowers and tie those bastards together. Try not to strain yourself, sweetheart.
RINGS
Nothing says, "I'm a stupid asshole who will fall for literally anything!" like buying a nice, big diamond ring for your lovely bride. You know who made that a thing? De Beers. Do you know who carefully controls the market for that shiny rock your lovely lady demands? De Beers. Do you know who hires hitmen to brutally murder anyone developing artificial precious stones? De Beers. Do you know who monitors the diamond mines run by ruthless African warlords? De Beers. And you bought into it. I hope that African orphan blood on your diamond doesn't tarnish your big day. It's so hard to get that stuff off when you let it soak in too long. Try to avoid scratching yourself with the gemstone too, since I'm pretty sure that kid had HIV from birth. He got it from his mother, who got it from the sectarian paramilitary commander that assaulted her.
But yeah, you have a great wedding day.
DRESS
Hide your eyes, groom! Don't you know it's bad luck to see your bride decked out in her giant gilded-ass table cloth before she walks down the aisle and seals her fate?
Brides, your dress is a relic of the patriarchy that demands a constant supply of subservient virgins for God-fearing genocidal barbarian men. Did you know that the Old Testament says women who don't bleed all over the white sheets on their wedding night deserve to be beaten to death with rocks? Oh, but don't worry, since you're a modern religious type you can just ignore that part like you ignore all the other ones that don't agree with your political agenda. So feel free to give Mrs.Ramirez from Holiday Inn housekeeping a well-deserved reprieve.
By the way, what the hell is a garter belt anyway? It looks like the hair scrunchy industry made some oversized product and was like, "Holy shit, this would look great around a chick's thigh!" So what, it's a pit stop on the way north to the only part of the event the groom actually cares about? And apparently it's frowned upon if you try to stuff it in your pocket and take it home. Hey Uncle Dan, don't throw that shit if you plan to keep it, idiot.
TUXEDO
Haha, all that's expected of men is to wear a tie and maybe put something on their hair. And we can just rent that shit. Nobody expects us to hang on to it. Thanks patriarchy!
PHOTOGRAPHY
What's the point of spending money if you don't have an HD, high-pixel-count depiction of your excess? Don't answer that, it's rhetorical.
Here's a concept: One day you'll be dead, and your children will be dead, and their children will be dead. Do you remember the intimate details of your great-great-grandparents' wedding? You don't!? Then why the hell would you expect any different? One day the sun will implode, and nothing you've ever created or done will matter. No life form will ever acknowledge that you lived and loved. Your photos will be devoured by an indifferent universe, just as a lion devours a gazelle.
LOCATION
Justice of the Peace's office. You get all the paperwork, all the tax incentives, and all the satisfaction of being lawfully married. The Justice might even shake your hands if you're lucky. You'll have wasted no money, nobody's time, and you've achieved the same conclusion. Enjoy your fleeting years of happiness together, assuming there's any happiness at all.
I'm emotionally exhausted now. I'm going to go smoke a cigarette and listen to some Radiohead. Have a nice life, you drones.
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