Billie Eilish Reacts to Losing 100k Followers Just for Posting Drawings of Some Breasts

“Billie Eilish went ahead and took part in the ‘Post a Picture Of’ Instagram challenge going on RN, and it somehow resulted in her losing 100k followers—seemingly all because she posted some drawings of breasts. No words, but to quote Billie herself, ‘y’all babies smh.'”

19 thoughts on “Billie Eilish Reacts to Losing 100k Followers Just for Posting Drawings of Some Breasts

  1. The hardest thing for me was playing Zappa albums at a volume my parents wouldn’t hear. I’d get in trouble if my Mom or Dad poked their heads in my room to hear lyrics like “I whipped off her bloomers and stiffened my thumb / and applied rotation on her sugar plum” or “I want a steamy little Jewish Princess / With over-worked gums, who squeaks when she cums / I don’t want no troll / I just want a Yemenite hole.” I don’t know if his music fucked me up as a kid but it made me laugh.

    1. Yeah, used to be you could count on adults not understanding the lyrics. Here’s a fun thing I just did – go on yotube and look at his ’76 and ’78 SNL spots. I remembered him conducting, I had forgotten that Belushi just hops in mid-song a couple times. Also, Tom Malone and Lou Marini from the Blues Bros. get in on it.

      1. Had trouble fooling my mom. She had no problem for example deciphering Slim Harpo’s King Bee as done by the Stones:
        “Well, I’m a king bee Buzzin’ around yo’ hive
        Well, I’m a king bee Buzzin’ around yo’ hive
        Well, I can make honey, baby Let me come inside
        I’m young and able To buzz all night long
        I’m young and able To buzz all night long
        Well, when you hear me buzzin’, baby
        Some stingin’ is going on
        Well, I’m a king bee Can buzz all night long
        Well, I can buzz better, baby When yo’ man is gone. ”
        Pretending total ignorance only partially worked.
        Of course Louie Louie was no problem. Nobody could figure that out – at least until you heard cover versions by by people like the Kinks.
        As the FBI report said, “unintelligible at any speed”.

        1. King Bee’s a good one, it’s also the only cover Pink Floyd (or The Tea Set as they were called at the time) ever did.

    1. Doubt it. 50k at most and that’s generous. Most of her fans a pre-teens, the backlash would be even greater.

  2. Cool… now can someone please translate, “BYE NOT HER LOSING 100K CUZ OF BOOBS…” ?

    Sort of surprised “losing” wasn’t spelled “luzing.“

  3. This is America. Boobs are bad, because seeing them damages children. And if they see somebody TOUCH one, you might as well throw them away then and there. (Violence is fine, because violence solves any and all problems when used by good guys.) So we need to pretend boobs only exist to get people to look at ads.

    You know, after I wrote all the above, it still occurs to me that I can’t argue with people who don’t want their kids being sexualized too early. What too early is, I couldn’t tell you. Heck, I’m not even sure what “being sexualized” is, really. I guess the Internet makes that something almost impossible to avoid, though.

    1. PS – In the Trump airport thread, I had no idea if Rip Torn was yelling at Trump or Uncle Scoopy. Rage can be surprisingly non-specific. Also, I thought Rip Torn was dead, so who is this guy?

      1. It seems like some kind of a bot post, probably generated by a foreign programmer. Otherwise, what could explain the “priceless limerick” in a rage post? Obviously the source program doesn’t know the meaning of either “priceless” or “limerick,” but seems to have picked up a random phrase by spidering some English-language sites.

        1. Oh, that’s great. Bots are having rage issues now. Judgement Day, Terminator-style, can’t be far off.

    2. In the beginning there were some efforts to create a special internet environment for youngsters which would prevent them from seeing breasts or something. That seems to have failed, as any child can now go to YouPorn, for example, and view any kind of sex or fetish without so much as a password.

      In my youth, one needed all kinds of Machiavellian schemes to catch so much as a brief glimpse of a Playboy that some dude lifted from his father or older brother.

      I had no older brothers, my dad was a dedicated family guy, and I was younger than my classmates, so I was kind of out of the loop completely. When I was maybe 15, I finally saw used Playboys and nudist magazines in a progressive local bookstore. Some years later, the same store was my source for the releases of the late, lamented Grove Press. I miss that book store – a bit of Greenwich Village acting as an oasis of hip in the provincial, industrial, conservative desert that was the city of my youth.

      1. Up until I was 12, I lived in Toledo, Ohio, which was probably as much an industrial desert as Rochester, NY. Then my family moved to Madison, Wisconsin, which you would have thought would be a free loving hippy heaven at that time. It probably was, down on the campus, but we lived on the edge of town, full of new houses being built in what had been cornfields until then. Out there, you would never have known there was a university, and there were not the kind of grungy places that would have carried Grove Press in walking or even biking distance.

        The campus was a separate world, sort of like a ghetto of presumed hippies. Cable wasn’t much of a thing either. Just full-on suburban wholesomeness. I don’t know if that was good, bad, or indifferent, even though I was there. I do know it changed away from that as soon as it could.

        1. The Clinton Book store was in a seedy, forgotten corner of downtown Rochester. In order to get there I had to take a city bus, walk many city blocks, shop, walk back to the city center, and catch the return bus. It was a commitment of 2-3 hours to buy a copy of Tropic of Cancer or The Zoo Story or some avant-garde European work.

          That was about ten miles from where I lived.

          In my suburb there were no book stores at all. There was a stationery store in a nearby strip mall, and they carried some books, but nothing with even a whiff of controversy, and the clerks there would have called Jean Genet, “Gene Gannett,” should they accidentally have stumbled upon his name.

          The only thing remotely hip in my suburb, not in my youth, but when my own kids were growing, was a run-down dive called The House of Guitars, which started out in some kids’ basement and moved into a place that used to be the Grange Hall when the area was farmland.

          The HoG was the musical equivalent of an underground bookstore. There you could find any guitar you could imagine, and albums by Frank Zappa and the Fugs, assuming you could find anything, because everything in the HoG was strewn helter-skelter and the building itself was a maze, its chaos exacerbated by creaking floors, crooked shelves, sharp turns, strobe effects, dim rooms with black light and psychedelic posters, and outrageously loud music everywhere. It’s about like wandering through one of the Haunted Houses that appear every Halloween, except it was always Halloween at the HoG. When my kids were little, they were scared shitless by the place and its dark, crazy TV ads. When they became teenagers, they found it the coolest place on earth. If you were lucky enough, which I never was, you would actually see some famous rock musicians there, judging by their autographs across every empty stretch of wall. That place was a legend, and probably hasn’t changed much.

          1. UncleScoopy wrote: “In order to get there I had to take a city bus, walk many city blocks, shop, walk back to the city center, and catch the return bus. It was a commitment of 2-3 hours to buy a copy of Tropic of Cancer or The Zoo Story or some avant-garde European work.”

            Herein we see the truth of the saying “The child is father to the man.”

          2. In this case, I suppose the child is grandfather to the man, since there was about a 30-year stretch when I raised my kids, lived an ultra-straight corporate life, and spent all my “free” time working and playing sports.

            But I finally came to my senses.

          3. I grew up in the Bronx. Most candy and stationary stores sold dirty magazines. I was 13 the first time I bought one. Prior to that, I had to make do with magazines I’d find in the park, what I once heard someone describe as “hedge porn.” Of course, if I was willing to take a bus to the subway I could be on 42nd Street in Times Square in a little over an hour. All the theaters along there were showing either porn or kung fu movies. But kids today still have it easier. I started teaching high school in 2004. The school computers were all running Symantec Web Security which would sometimes block me from reading Supreme Court Opinions or Washington Post Editorials when they “exceeded their quota of questionable words.” But the kids had no trouble watching porn. In fact one of my 9th grade students was caught watching a pornographic video in the school library. Fortunately or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, the girl was 18 because the video was of her having sex. But other kids seemed to have no trouble finding porn videos they did not appear in on those computers.

            I have a 3-year-old nephew. I wouldn’t want him exposed to what I was exposed to, much less what is available to kids today on their cell phones. I am sure my sister will do everything she can to shield him from it. But the kid is already almost as good at using an Ipad as she is. In 10 years he will probably be more tech savvy. But even if you can keep it off his phone, you can’t keep it off all his friends’ phones. I know it is hypocritical to worry about my nephew doing just what I did at his age and of course given where I am writing this, what I am doing right now. But just because you are a hypocrite doesn’t mean you are wrong. My dad, a heavy smoker who died of a heart attack at age 59, always told me never to smoke. He wasn’t wrong. I worry about what exposure to porn at such young ages will do to kids as they grow up. Am I wrong to worry?

          4. I was in House of Guitars not too terribly long ago. Other than stocking (mostly) CDs instead of LPs, the place is pretty much frozen in time. If it’s organization you want, look elsewhere. You might find what you want, but you’re more likely to leave with a bunch of stuff you didn’t know even existed until your eyes happened upon it. The TV ads are a thing of the past, but the store lives on, yay!

          5. That’s great to hear! I didn’t stop in when I was in Irondequoit to settle my sister’s estate, but I have great memories of it – not so much the place itself, because it was really “after my time” in the Rochester area, but the bizarre late-night commercials, the love my dad and my oldest son (both big blues guys, and music collectors) had for it, and the enjoyment I got from the stories they told about it and the people they saw and met there. (My kids spent lots of time in Irondequoit even after I left. They loved spending summers there with their grandparents near Sea Breeze.)

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