To survive a war, you have to become war. Fuck yeah, Alyssa Milano. Until every last sock puppet account you invented to criticize your nursing has been suspended, you keep that #normalizebreastfeeding running like it’s a real thing. It’s real to you. There’s no shame in re-re-posting cosplay nursing photos from a year ago. You’re fucking Wonder Woman. Wonder Woman doesn’t let moms nurse in hep-C needle strewn public toilet stalls at the bus station in Compton because it’s their only safe from shame place. God gave you tits and Twitter for a reason. You get to win this time. Your kid, not so much.
Watching chunky lady talk show porn piggy back off one another for masturbatory ratings tears is fascinating. Oprah secured a big get for her show nobody knew was still on the air when she got the cute little ragamuffin kid from Who’s The Boss to admit on national television that he’s the 79,858,920th person in the world to be HIV positive. Harkening back to twenty five years ago when such revelations where newsworthy. Or when Who’s the Boss was actually on the air. Danny Pintauro’s confession has moved a lot of people who haven’t given a fake shit about this kid since he stopped appearing on their TV screens a long time ago. Including Alyssa Milano who was the only former cast member from Who’s the Boss who didn’t know Danny was HIV positive, mostly because she didn’t keep contact with him and he didn’t want to tell her. That didn’t keep The Talk, the overtly racially diverse afternoon talk show, from showing Danny’s Oprah confession to Alyssa Milano and closing on her tears while she declared Danny a hero. Actually, she called him a beacon of light. What? There’s nobody more affected by this than Alyssa Milano.
Cheap tawdry elicited tears are the money shots of daytime talk. Why are you crying? There’s cum in my eye. Are people revealing they are HIV positive heroes? I think the argument can be made for this in the early days of The AIDS when you risked a ton of repercussions. Now you might as well shamefully confess you serve meals to the less fortunate. Nobody gets kudos for coming out with kuru after eating the flesh of their human slaughter. Ranking diseases based on nobility seems unfair. As does showing some chick crying over a co-worker from twenty-five years ago announcing he’s HIV positive. Half of West Hollywood is HIV positive. Walk Santa Monica Boulevard with your pressed juice and breathless sobs. Just don’t breastfeed your baby. You will be shamed.
Alyssa Milano took to social media with more breastfeeding photos and a tongue in cheek remark about suckling her child until age six like women used to do after shitting in the bushes and foraging for bugs. Milano’s life’s work is to reveal the presence of an anti-breastfeeding mob. If the mob doesn’t exist, then Milano’s tits go away. Minus the ones she used to show in movies when she was semi-interesting.
Everyone’s fine with [Miley Cyrus'] nipples being out. I think people are more comfortable sexualizing breasts than relating them to what they were made for, which is feeding another human.
That’s so true if you entirely ignore human evolution, which is easier for actresses than say, people who attended some school. Human beings are the only primates where females have engorged breasts prior to gestation. Tits evolved to get men worked up and start throwing dollar bills and their jizz around. Tits are dual purpose. Unlike Milano who bangs the same gong over and over again. Milano claims she rises above all the breastfeeding backlash she desperately creates herself through a great family support system. The wonder of fucking you. How do four billion other women survive having children?
Fucking Brits confiscated Milano’s bottled of freshly pumped teat juice at Heathrow Airport because they have a rule limiting liquids to 100 ml containers, which I’m told is about four ounces. They do make an exception for larger quantities of baby milk on the off chance you have a baby present. Milano was traveling alone, but being the Joan of Arc of breastfeeding, she’ll go at it even when her baby is on a different continent. It’s called nature. Also, attention. And maybe a slight tick of pleasure. Milano immediately took to Twitter, which serves as her agent, manager, publicity rep, and entourage:
@HeathrowAirport I would have happily spread milk in different containers (which I travel with) to comply to those liquid rules. Instead, milk was taken away with no discussion. Shampoo, lotions, etcetera were simply tested and handed back with no issue. Makes no sense at all.
Milano went on to give TSA London edition some hell about their breast pump rules, including noting a conspiracy that her luggage containing her full scale commercial grade pumper never made it to her destination. She totes a mobile version spare in her carry-on because you never know when The Man’s going to try and deny your right to milk yourself. Heathrow Tweeted back something silly like, this is the liquid limit rule set by the British government, the rule is clearly posted, we’re sorry for any inconvenience, p.s. would you give us a follow?
With one deft move, Milano not only took on the crusade of breastfeeding, but now she owns the milk pumping without a baby movement. Whirr whirr whirr isn’t just the sound of the lady next to you on the plane reflexively pressing milk for humanity, it’s the sound of progress. Turn to your left if you ever want to enjoy sex again.
Photo credit: Alyssa Milano Instagram
You have to feel for the demure Alyssa Milano when that little attention whore baby demands milk from her completely unfettered tit on camera. Anybody’s who’s nursed a child knows how many thousands of pictures of your bare tits exist on your iCloud alone. Forget Instagram and Twitter. You’re fairly defenseless.
Alyssa was prepping for her appearance on The Talk, that CBS ripoff of The ABC’s The View, that assembled two black women, a Chinese woman, a lesbian, and whatever the fuck Sharon Osbourne is to pretend that demographic diversity itself is compelling. It might help if they all took turns whipping out their mams and giving that kid a spritzer. I once went to an event and saw a woman shove a russet potato up her ass to prove a political point. I don’t remember the important cause but I can graphically describe every inch of that tuber to this day. In the absence of a compulsory ranking, our brains are going to remember Milano’s tits and not much else. There really isn’t much else. This time it worked out perfectly.
Photo Credit: Instagram/WWTDD Archives
Ever since Alyssa Milano and her mom went Lone Ranger and Tonto across the Internet lassoing up all her titty pictures, she’s felt a certain sense of regret. This roundup occurred before the science had been settled as to how amazing a career boost having your tubes exposed in the digital wankspace could be. What was once thought damaging to landing roles soon became chicks posting signs up at JuCo engineering departments daring hackers to find their beaver shots in the cloud. Now Alyssa Milano is scrambling to make up for her titty media divot by showing off her milk laden boobs anywhere there’s a camera or a Tweet button. Sadly, the market place for sallies is less strong at forty with an infant sucking on the business end. I’m sure Alyssa will tell you she doesn’t regret all the plum roles she lost due to her holy tit crusade against the Internet, but deep down, right between those swollen boobs of hers, she bears the truth.
Photo Credit: INF/AKM-GSI