Every morning the Twisty inbox is pretty well chockablock with news of the asinine, yet every morning there is at least one item so absurd, so irrational, so completely cracked, that when I read it the little shred of hope for humankind that sometimes manages to soothe my inflamed obstreperal lobe during the night instantly executes a clumsy swan dive off the deep end.
Which is exactly what happened when I read that, in preparation for a visit from the world’s premier pointy-hatted old homophobic misogynist, Poland has suddenly developed a passion for protecting the citizenry from the life-threatening hazards of ice cream. They will be banning sales of the dessert for the duration, citing “a danger to health.”
It seems that, in Poland, ice cream performs the bidding of Death’s Bright Angel by “go[ing] off.” Left to the imagination is the exact manner in which a frozen dessert is more susceptible to bacterial incursions than, say, a kielbasa.
And apparently nobody cares if ice cream kills people when the pope isn’t in town (nor does there appear to be any bureaucratic concern for what I would consider the more terrifying threat: that the pope might preach them to death).
But wait! There’s more! They’re also banning booze (although the pope himself will retain access to wine, praise Jesus), as well as TV ads for birth control, women’s underwear, and—you guessed it—tampons. Possibly the Poles fear the cosmic implosion that would theoretically take place if His Holiness and little wads of absorbent cotton (also known as ‘godbag anti-matter’) were to occupy the same point on the space-time continuum.