I subscribe to Martha Stewart Living magazine. I either got the year long subscription for free or $5. I’m not a huge fan of The Martha (“The Martha” refers to the worker bees who do all the work so the queen bee, Martha Stewart, can take the credit for it) but the recipes in the magazine are usually very good. And The Martha does have some cute, crafty ideas that don’t cost an arm and a leg. I saw one once.
Anyway, my obligatory earth toned cozy fall edition arrived today. And while I’d like to blame The Martha colony at large for what I’m about to report on, I can only blame the real Martha Stewart for this. Because her picture was in it. And it states, “Text by Martha Stewart.” And it’s under the “From My Home to Yours” section. Thankfully, the article and all the pictures appear on her website
so I don’t have to waste my time scanning, cropping and worrying if I infringed on some copyright law that no one will ever see since only tens of people read my blog so I can easily show the evidence of the new all time low.
I guess I should have been warned by the title description: taxidermy. I am not a fan of taxidermy. I’m from Alaska and I know it’s a big deal to have dead animals that you so macho-ly killed hanging from every available inch of wall space apparently to impress all who enter that YOU are ruler of this domain and if you need to, you’ll be happy to shoot, hook or arrow anyone who doesn’t agree. I happen to be the owner of a set of mounted caribou antlers, inherited through marriage. Personally I don’t get taxidermy infatuation in case you couldn’t tell. Ick. Gross. Anyhoo, this was Martha’s first picture:
This is a stairway in one of her many homes. Uh, okay? The thing that stopped me dead in my tracks is the baby black bear in the lower left hand corner. A baby. black. bear. it so proudly boasts in the magazine. Hmmm . . . . . got any golden retriever puppies or calico kittens you’d like stuffed and mounted, too?
Then there’s this beauty:
Perhaps the porcupine next to the booze is to scare children away? That’s what I want next to my olives . . . a dust trap that has who know what living and reproducing in it. Remember, I come from the land of taxidermy. I’ve heard stories that would make grown men cry.
Let’s not forget this one:
The text accompanying this germ infested picture of baby bear carnage reads: I decided to have a bit of fun with my many animals and took them to the Playhouse at Skylands on the property for an adventurous photo shoot.
There are many more I could show, but this is the last one I could stomach:
Really? Where I’m going to eat? Birds painted on plates are one thing, but in used-to-be-living color right in front of me watching every bite I take? I think not.
Oh Martha. Of all the things you could have talked about this month, you had to choose one of the most tasteless, morbid, disturbing things out there and turn it into decorating fodder. Even having “fun” with it.
I won’t be renewing my subscription.