Remember how Mel Gibson threatened to kill Oksana Grigorieva over an interaction with their gardener? Turns out it happened during a placenta-burying ceremony in their backyard . Apparently Oksana smiled at the gardener, because ordering a man to handle the putrid waste expelled from your loins is a known seduction technique. Naturally, this prompted Mel to fly into a jealous rage, even though he’s the one who ordered the ceremony.
This is it- the catalyst that turned Mel’s life into an F5 level shit-tornado. It’s sad, because the whole thing could have easily been avoided. If your wife is a known hussy, you don’t let her strut around like a pig in heat while immigrant workers handle her womb leavings, you ship that slop off to some hippie artist to be crafted into a cuddly toy (that apparently needs to be hermetically sealed.) Nothing ensures the future scarring of your offspring like the prominent display of a trophy sewn out of your amniotic sac, except for maybe the public airing of their father’s hate-filled rants against women and minorities.
How does one prepare a vacated placenta for sewing, you ask? It’s simple. All you have to do is cut the fetid thing open, cure it with sea salt, dry it out, and then treat it with tannin and egg yolk. Doesn’t that sound yummy? I don’t know whether I want to make crafts with it or eat it, like a great big veiny omelet.
If only Mel had seen this post on Colt Monday, he wouldn’t be in this mess.