Finally getting around to watching A Very Duggar Wedding from Sunday, and oh, my Lord, the more I see of this
cult family, the more disturbed I become.
(Go here for some of my earlier thoughts on the subject of the Duggar worldview.)
I actually took notes while I was watching, so bear with the little paragraphs.
We open with Anna being unable to go without seeing Satan Bob 2.0 until 7:00 at night OH MY GOD. Maybe she’ll have time to wash her hands. Think of the bacteria.
Oh, here we go again with the kissing being impure. But apparently, Josh and Anna have “talked about it,”. Yeah, baby. Talk about…kissing…some more? I don’t know. This is weird. And here’s Cousin Amy to talk abut kissing- that’s some Whore of Babylon knowledge right there. Someone throw some holy water on her- stat.
We now come to quite possibly the most fantastic period of awkward creepy television- ever. Satan Bob decides to have a man-to-man talk with Josh. Tell me he brought him porn. Please tell me he brought him porn. He did! Sort of. I don’t even know what to say about this, except “definition of normal sexual intercourse”. I can’t even begin to comment.
Oh, wait, yes I can. It’s not like Legos. I don’t think. Is it? Is that why Legos are so popular? Oh, Satan Bob 2.0 doesn’t think he’ll need the help, because he’ll have a “working model”. I’m sorry. What? Good Lord, she’s not a blow-up doll.
Apparently Anna will not always want sex. Also, apparently, this doesn’t affect anything at all in their relationship. Which at best makes me think that wow, creepy and at worst, wow, rape.
*Commercial Note: Sponsored in part by Plan B. Is that irony I smell?*
Jinger! Hi Jinger!
Okay, now they’re reenacting the engagement. Really, they do have enough people for a theater troupe. Here’s my reenactment:
Anna: Hey, aren’t you that guy who came by our booth at the homeschooling conference thing once? John? James? Jim?
Josh: Josh. Wanna get married? Your parents said it was totes okay.
Anna: Sure! I’m already 17, losing eggs every month here.
Satan Bob and Michelle are getting nostalgic, “Can you believe twenty years ago…” I think she really means, “Can you believe it’s been twenty years and I’m still &%*#(%& pregnant?”
Josh: “Doubt I’ll be thinking about the food.” Oh! Ha! Of course not. You’ve got that lovely little blow-up toy. Unfortunately, you can’t deflate her and shove her in a closet when you’re done.
Jinger just broke into Josh’s car to do stupid things with it. Yes. This is a skill that will come in handy five years from now when she has to break into T-Bone’s car behind the strip club she works at to steal her child support payments before he gives them to Crystal, her former BFF and coworker.
No dancing, no booze. Par-tay. This is going to be off the hizzy. Oh, the pastor just told us that the whole wedding at Cana story is a mistranslation- Christ turned the water into grape juice? Of course. That makes so much more sense. Now, I realize I’m just a prospective theology student, but even I know how much the Judeans loved their grape juice.
We’re moving on to the actual wedding now- Anna’s dad is rambling about how God ordained that her authority figure is now Satan Spawn 2.0, and not him. God ordained it? Really. Ordained it? I hate you so much right now.
Are they on a stage? Come to think of it, what makes these weird borderline Christian churches any different from, like, a warehouse? They certainly don’t have a tabernacle. Huh. Weird.
OH HELL NO. YOU DO NOT GET TO LEAD ANNA. You are not “her priest and provider”. She is in charge of her own soul, dammit. Free will, baby. It’s in the Old Testament, the one you guys love so much. It’s HER WILL. NOT YOURS. (Much like her cervix.)
“Submitting to his authority as is healthy.” Oh hell no. Somebody hold my earrings.
OH MY GOD HE’S SINGING. Before a montage of their courtship in all of it’s hand-holding glory. Satan Bob seems to think this is every woman’s dream. It most definitely is not. I have a lot of dreams, including not being treated like an anatomically correct Growing Up Skipper doll by my husband, and also being in charge of my own immortal soul and eternal life. Being sung to by a guy who is one sneeze away from following Haley’s Comet is nowhere on it.
First kiss—must we pretend that this is “waiting”? Really? TLC, don’t you have some editorial discretion here? It’s bordering on irresponsible.
So they can’t kiss, but they can throw a garter? That makes no sense. “God forbid our noses touch, but here, let me play with your upper thigh.”
Michelle Bob is feeling nostalgic- again. “Enjoy each other.” Yeah. You enjoy Satan Bob when he goes home and puts you back in your cage.
Oh, wait. We’ve come to the end. When the lovebirds are inexplicably in their car listening to the CDs that Satan Bob thoughtfully provided. “Love involves close bodily contact and the pleasure of […] knowing each other in the closest sense possible.” OH MY GOD. I think I need to go throw up.
Healthy, Catholic, sexually-repressed throwing up.