I think I had BS in this pic
An exciting new non-invasive therapy may offer hope for millions of people in yoga pants currently suffering from and existing as pains in the asses due to “Yoga Panties in a Bunch Syndrome (“Yoga BS”).
Dr. Jane Tuckernot, director of the Yoga BS program at Namastaropa University, is the main researcher on the new treatment which she single-handedly developed after years of groundbreaking inquiry into fucking around and wasting precious moments of her life on the internet. “In my last uneducated foray into yoga-related malaise, I worked with the ‘bat shit fucking crazy’ phenomenon striking yoga teachers after reading one after another click-bait articles like ‘5 ways headstand can Transform you into a Unicorn/Cause cerebral hemorrhage’ and ’10 alignment cues you shouldn’t be using but probably have been using and probably will keep using anyway because this shit is so confusing’– that kind of stuff. Now, I’m working with Yoga BS– the way clicking all these yoga links can leave the average yoga-goer, if not fucking bat shit crazy, just with a more mild yet pervasive feeling of having your yoga panties in a bunch– you know, feeling yoga bitchy, yoga pissy, or yoga-debbie-down depressed, and a complete pain in the ass to yourself and those around you.
Of course, “yoga panties in a bunch” is not literal–” we all know they aren’t wearing any,” explains Tuckernot.
Over the course of 10 weeks, Tuckernot studied and measured the “pain in the ass” levels of over 100 yogis, both real and fake, as they perused the daily onslaught of yoga articles on social media.
“it wasn’t hard to investigate,” admits Tuckernot. “Yogis are always getting their panties in a bunch over something.” From Mysore-rule mayhem to Kino hip hoopla to Facebook comment fights over well, just about anything, to general selfie-snappishness to sexualized selfie sodom & gomorrah-dom to the salacious comments on Ms. Macgregor’s youtube page to the volume level of your Om, the length of your savasana and your perfect yoga ass, to Kino again posing in front of a gaggle of tuxedoed men, to the apocalypse of Instagram challenges, to yoga injuries and your inflammatory “I quit ______ yoga because people who do ______ yoga are a bunch of crazy weirdos” pieces to Kino again. “Pretty much,” sighs Tuckernot, “if Kino’s involved, it’s a ripe spot for generating yogic pains in the posterior.” Tuckernot is quick to refrain from blaming the content itself because “really, some of these words aren’t even Yoga BS per se; it’s just content that turns others into giant pains in the asses when they read it.” Indeed, the hallmarks of a Yoga-BS inciting piece are the following words: right, real, wrong, rules, rant, right angle, quit, Kino, KPJAYI, karma, lulu, limbs, correct, chaturanga, cheat, challenge, ahimsa, ashtanga, alignment, foot fetish, Bikram, bastard, barf, booty, image, ego, Patanjali, pain, posture, porn, soft porn, serratus, SSRI, samsara, selfie, sub, smoothie, hot pants, headstand, RYT, TT, T&A, Me, You, and brought to you by the letter “I.”
“Given the ubiquity of mudslinging in the name of the yamas and niyamas, it wasn’t hard to turn the objects of my study into a bunch of whiny, fighting, high-horsed, pissy, bitchy and dick-ish pains in the asses,” Tuckernot added. “Yoga BS is documented to be as contagious as a Taylor Swift song, but it’s not the stuff of your Wildest Dreams. It’s more like the unbridled upchuck orgy detailed by Chunk in The Goonies (at 35 seconds):
In keeping with the trajectory of a vomit-o-rama, within moments of BS and BS-inspiration saturation, the study’s subjects were leaving Facebook and youtube comment trails of terror, punching out pugnacious posts and bending out of shape bitching on their own blogs. “Funny enough,” sighs Tuckernot, “Many of the yogis i study purposely read blogs and follow feeds they damn well know will turn them into huffy puritanical douchebags or worse.
Knowing that her previous treatment discoveries involving the Sensory deprivator 5000 and cancelation of all social media accounts would prove too onerous for the let’s face it, the average fucking annoyed yogi with a new iPhone6, Tuckernot struggled to find a way to alleviate the suffering of these otherwise publicly blissed out yogis posting lofty images of their lithe bodies alongside overplayed Rumi quotes. And then it came to her:
Puppies.
Specifically, the novel treatment protocol is an intense immersion into the utopian, civilized and chivalrous world of Daily Puppy.com– a place where all puppies are loved for who they are (even if they steal tennis balls and rip up couches) and everyone gets a vote of at least 10.5 biscuits– even the mixed breeds!, and the comment threads resemble 4th grade love letters. You got a problem after reading something about selfies? Tell that to “Chewbacca the labradoodle.” You want to post that cagey comment about “real yoga”? Try telling it to Mimi the Dachshund first. And don’t even think about making Buster the beagle mad with your “I quit this and that bullshit.”
The Puppy Protocol (PP) is divided into two phases. In Phase I, afflicted yogis are forced to scroll through cute puppy pics whenever the urge to peruse Instagram or Facebook or tweet occurs. For severe pains in the asses, Tuckernot places subjects on a two-week diet of nonstop Puppy Bowl footage.
In Phase Two, subjects change the wallpaper on all their devices to a puppy photo, their default homepage to dailypuppy, and their instagram and Facebook to immediately go to the dailypuppy page. Each morning subjects wake up and read the comments posted on dailypuppy.com OUT loud to themselves in the mirror, like a mantra:
I’ve unscientifically measured the results of this protocol, says Tuckernot, and in my purely conjectural, anecdotal and therefore ironclad internet-legit opinion, this treatment is almost as effective as a full-blown care bear stare. It’s been shown (in my imagination) to breathe new air into deflated balls and take the fake allergies out of people acting like someone’s put gluten in their muffins.
And what about people who don’t like dogs? Or cat people?
“Oh man,” says Tuckernot. “There’s no fucking hope for them.”