Skip to content

The Week In Patriarchy

As the United States of America turned 234, one man celebrated by videotaping some ladies’ fruited planes. Dudes across America said, “I’d tap [Rachel Maddow back when she was in high school and wasn’t all smart and glasses-y and a lesbian]!” Be on the lookout America: Socialist feminists in Sweden burnt $13,000 to symbolically represent the wage gap between men and women. Maybe America and Sweden are already more similar than previously thought.

Spread around contextual ads for “incredible star slim-downs” and “celebrity six-packs” was an uplifting story about Christina Hendricks and how she felt beautiful after gaining weight. Mad Men showed us how to treat a lady. Mel Gibson admitted to hitting his ex “because she fucking deserved it.”

Economist Nancy Folbre introduced into the lexicon the phrase “cougar capitalism.” Frown. Jesse Bering of the Scientific American made a circuitous case for his not being a sexist that included the fact that his editor is a woman and that people generally dislike feminists. It concluded by telling the woman who had first leveled the claim, “Go stuff it up that hole of yours which [sic] is shared by both male and female jackasses alike.” (Ah, the grammatical sic.) In an apparent attempt to repair the damaged reputation of feminists, the female jackass in question had said that “[his] blatant, unapologetic, flinching gynophobia made me wonder if he’s gay.” A Center for Feminist Research study found that women’s sports are underrepresented at ESPN because male sports reporters are scared.

The geeks at Google were found to underrepresent women in their doodles. That’s not what their high school notebooks would have us think! Olivia Munn’s geek flag flew high as she proselytized for the more frequent use of the word “cunt” and told Internet overanalyzers they “need to get the shit fucked out of them.” A recent Belgian study found that girls are too simple to play videogames. (It did find that they like “bright colors”–just like birds!)

Celebrated American writer Marilynne Robinson appeared on The Daily Show. That’s why TDS has been a trending topic all week, right? Emma Donoghue, literary scholar, looked for “secret sapphic desire” in the works of Shirley Jackson and others. Andrew Breitbart was somewhat surprised that the new The Kids Are All Right is not, in fact, biopic of The Who.

ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?: The Inevitable Twilight Review

GAWWWWWD can I tell you how terrible this new Twilight movie was? I really don’t think I can keep doing this to Harold. A few years ago I made him watch Beaches and Steel Magnolias in a single day, and I don’t think that day even touches this month. Sex and the City 2 AND Eclipse? Do I hate this man?

To address the central theme of Eclipse, I offer this sample conversation:

Edward: Bella, I vant to marry you and THEN stick you – vith my fangs! AH AH AH!
Bella: Turn me into a vampire now! I’ll always feel this sure of our relationship! Human beings don’t evolve! They don’t!
Edward: One year of marriage! AH AH AH! Two years of marriage! AH AH AH!
Shirtless Jacob: Hey, Bella. Like, pick me and stuff.
Several Members of the Audience, Especially Garland: UNF.
Bella: Go away, Jacob! Your potential abusive relationship isn’t as compelling to me as this one!
Edward:Three years of marriage! AH AH AH…
Shirtless Jacob: I know you have feelings for me!

They have this same exchange over and over again. Edward, played by Robert Pattinson (FULL DISCLOSURE: The official editorial policy of Tiger Beatdown is that RPattz is “the worst actor in the history of filmed entertainment”) wants to put a ring on it, Bella (Kristen Stewart) wants to put the hurt on Edward, and Jacob (Taylor Lautner) wants to never ever wear a shirt. Which makes it nearly impossible to focus on half of this silly movie.

(Continued)

YOU ARE ALL GOING TO BE DELETED: The Munn Paradox

Ladies! Are we tired of talking about The Daily Show yet? I know I am! You know who’s not tired of talking about it, though: DELETED COMMENTERS. There are dozens of them, apparently! Many of them angry that I haven’t published their first-time, openly hostile comments right away, and willing to leave a series of increasingly unhinged comments to that effect! (This isn’t a customer service gig for me, folks. I am not here to optimize your trolling satisfaction.) (Although I like to imagine the thought process. “Hmmm, she didn’t publish the one where I called her a bad feminist and accused her of damaging all women everywhere with her damnable 500-word blog posts. Maybe if I just called her a bitch? Yes! That’s it! That’s the move that will GET MY COMMENT PUBLISHED.”) Yes, my past few days have been FILLED with deleted commenters. Like this one:

Think there’s sexism on TDS? Don’t like it? Stop watching the fucking show. You’re stupid as hell for making as big a deal about this as you are, you’re dumber for having written this ignorant ass letter, and well…change your tampons already. I’m a feminist who’s watched the show for years, and I don’t see anything racist going on.

Ah, yes, the eternal problem of the person — sorry, “feminist!” — who wanders around the Internet screaming “I DON’T SEE ANY [INSERT X PREJUDICE] GOING ON”: Sometimes, you just forget which problem you’re supposed to be not seeing! I feel for you, “Chelsea,” I really do. But here’s the thing. I’m also deleting comments that run like so:

bitch poses for maxim and tries to act like men and women are equal. please. she was graced with an uber sexy bod and shes crazy if shes trying to act like she hasn’t used her looks to get her where she is. i guess that the part that pisses me off the most and will make me tivo right through her segments.

And now, I will piss you all off by explaining why.

(Continued)

Your Ladybits Got in my Science: Agora, The Tiger Beatdown Review

I am a geek. You may have figured this out–I mean, I drop casual references to Cthulu in my posts here, I have detailed literary criticism of both The Lord of the Rings AND the Star Wars prequels prepared to be ranted upon the poor unfortunate who engages me in conversation about either, even if it’s just “Who’s hotter, Aragon or the young Obi-Wan?”

Oh yes, I am geeky, though in that literary-pop science-y-read too much science fiction as a young person of surprising gender way, not the building computers from scratch-having and using a ham radio sort of way. (There are an uncommon number of both, and people who are both, in the trans community for reasons perhaps beyond the ability of science to explain.)

Agora, the new movie by Spanish director Alejandro Amenábar, is about a geek who was Greek–Hypatia of Alexandria. And it may just be the kind of movie only a geeky feminist can love. But I sure hope not.

(Continued)

And Now, A Word From The Daily Show

Dear Feminists:

We work at the Daily Show. We are all women! Please do not make any enquiries as to whether we are hired or promoted at the same rate as men, or which opportunities are made available to us, as opposed to our male counterparts. For we are women. This should be enough for you.

Yes, women is what we are, and also we work at The Daily Show. We are all sorts of things: Production assistants! Administrative assistants! Writers’ assistants! So many of us women are assisting! Why, we even sometimes get our jokes on the air! But not our names, apparently, in many cases, or our faces, in all but three cases. Just because our names do not appear on the writers’ credits — just because we do not, as the saying goes, “get credit” for our work — this should not imply to you that our work is not valued! We are women! This is enough!

Also Jon Stewart is wonderful. He is our boyfriend. We have never experienced sexism at the hands of Jon Stewart that we are willing to write about in this public letter meant to rehabilitate the reputation of the show we are currently employed by, which is run by Jon Stewart. Also, have you checked us out? We’re women! Women women women. Boy howdy, what a bunch of women we are!

As for your suggestions that there are a multitude of female comedians who are funny, and who could provide a valuable addition to our predominantly male cast, or that our show — known for being liberal, and thereby concerning women, who tend to lean left and whose rights we so frequently discuss on air — might in fact demonstrate its stated principles better by employing women, LET ALONE your ridiculous suggestion that when looking for a female cast member we might favor women with backgrounds in comedy rather than a woman whose primary on-air achievement was licking the Nintendo Wii’s port on the day it came out while her obnoxious frat guy co-host chanted “lick it! Lick it, put your tongue on it” (strangely, our recollection of Olivia Munn’s career is identical to the recollections of Sady Doyle, who used to have to watch that show she was on because her boyfriend liked it): Ha, ha ha! What ridiculous suggestions! These are identical to the suggestions our Nanas make, which are useless!

Also, our Nanas are all talented comedians. You have never heard of them, because they are women. As are we! Women women women women women. That is what we are.

Love,

The Daily Show

(Which Has Some Women On It)

(Just Not, Most Of The Time, On Air)

PS: Olivia Munn told us to tell you that you all eat sandwiches, which is why you are bitches, and so fat, and no-one will ever hire you, because of how fat and ugly you bitches are. Women! The End.

Why I Couldn’t Blog About Hating Kathleen Parker

Oh my god, people? Can I just complain, for a minute? Because I am exhausted. And that is why I didn’t blog last Wednesday. Because! I took a whirlwind trip to Chicago over the weekend. I had a really, really awesome idea, which is that I was going to fly back from Chicago on Monday morning on a 6 am flight and then go straight to work. That was a really awesome idea, wasn’t it? And since I just started my new job and I didn’t want to be taking a zillion days off three weeks in, that’s what I did. Then we found out that my dude had to go straight to court from the airport, which meant he couldn’t drop me off at work, which meant that I was riding public transit from GODDAMN BALTIMORE at 9 in the morning after getting basically zero sleep. I slept all the way from Greenbelt to L’Enfant Plaza. My dude goes on his way, is so tired that he almost falls asleep at the wheel and dies, and therefore drives home instead of to court so he doesn’t end up dead. THEN. I find out that my friend who is coming into town THE NEXT DAY can no longer stay with the friend she was going to stay with, and needs to stay with me. Which: I love my friend! But! I am WRECKED with exhaustion and also, did I mention? My house looks like it has been ransacked by really, really dirty marauders who are looking for something and also don’t know how to do the dishes. And it is a million degrees and we have no air conditioning. So I think, if I don’t clean my house and buy an air conditioner, my friend is going to never speak to me again. So after work, me and dude head to the home depot to buy an air conditioning unit for our house. Remember, I have still not been home from my 6 am flight to public transit which took me straight to work. After 2 hours’ sleep. And I CRASH big time on the way to the store. So I am like a zombie in the home depot, and me and dude are both REALLY REALLY HOT because it is like 98 degrees outside and 150% humidity, and it’s like, you know when you go to the grocery store and you are hungry so you end up spending a ton of money on food? We were so hot that we bought the biggest air conditioner we could find.

You know where this is going, don’t you?

(Continued)

SEXIST BEATDOWN: Totally Not Looking At Some Internet Porn Edition

Well, it is Friday. And on Friday, we do lightweight, fun types of postings! (As opposed to the, um, lightweight and NOT FUN types of postings I have been doing all week while trying to write some incredibly complicated and pretentious essay on David Foster Wallace and depression and romanticizing non-neurotypical modes of operating, SORRY.) So, for today’s lightweight and fun posting, we will be covering: PORNOGRAPHY.

That’s right! I said PORNOGRAPHY! Prepare to fight! I have even dissed your Harry Potter erotic fan fiction, which should give you an easy starting point! PORNOGRAPHY: Is it good for the ladies? Bad for the ladies? A complicated topic which one hopes we can cover with a degree of nuance while respecting multiple viewpoints and being willing to learn from any or all of them? Or, more comment-section-inflamingly, is it a TOOL OF SATAN???

Well: Whatever the answer is, I am sure that Amanda Hess of The Sexist — who has been covering both kink conferences (Harry Potter erotica, ahoy!) and anti-porn conferences, always with the excellence that is her trademark — will help us to figure it out!

ILLUSTRATION: Expelli-clothes-us!

(Continued)

The Week In Patriarchy

Mel Gibson was condemned for (allegedly) threatening to burn down his house and force his ex, Oksana Grigorieva, to blow him (presumably after he saved her from being raped by a group he describes with his usual Gibsonian eloquence). Unfortunately, it was not the kind of ‘condemned’ you’d have wanted it to be. Chris Brown cried like a baby. (If babies used fake tears to cry about beating up their baby girlfriends.)

Wonder Woman was given a makeover and a new backstory. Shelby Knox was unhappy with the results, noting that depriving Wonder Woman of her past glosses over the indignities of the present. Laura Tenenbaum made an excellent case for Betty Draper being left behind by history. Toy Story 3 was outed as the sexist garbage it is.

Giving more credence to the they-come-from-another-planet theory of gender, Time reported that the medical professionals of the US Veterans Affairs were unfamiliar with how to care for women. It was noted that President Obama took a break from organizing communities, piloting the United States into a sea of socialism, and firing a genuine, dyed-in-the-wool American hero to spend $190 million to pervert the minds of our impressionable children.

Perhaps justifying their fixation with sweet, fizzy drinks, Gawker claimed that women could actually taste how bad that Keystone Ice is.  An acupuncturist freed three convicted rapists from jail by… Oh, fuck it. Just shut it down for today.

Fond Memories of Vagina: Martin Amis’ The Pregnant Widow

A person like me has to be careful when he goes to the bookstore. He can’t just slop books into his cart and glide over to the register, he has to do his research. Because it is very easy to get burned. Like the time I borrowed Phillip Roth’s The Humbling from the library. I spent the next few weeks making retching noises and trying to get through erotic descriptions that were so terrible they were on the short list for the 2009 Bad Sex in Fiction Award, sex scenes that made me want to buy a tube of lipstick, scrawl IT ALL MEANS NOTHING on the bathroom mirror, and wander the streets in silent agony. This is my characteristic response to a certain type of book I’ve run into many times over the years, a book which I refer to as Fond Memories of Vagina. The plot is always the same: “I am a writer in the twilight of my years, bored with life and my sexual powers. Oh, wait: pussy. I shall attain some. I am reinvigorated! Thanks, pussy!” This bores me and makes my entire lower half numb.

Fond Memories of Vagina is a book that has been written over and over again. A few months ago I picked up Fury by Salman Rushdie at a thrift store. I knew this was Fond Memories of Vagina on the first page. All of the descriptions of people are based on a specious understanding of contemporary pop culture: It’s written in the way older male authors try to imitate youth culture (GAWWWWD Tom Wolfe), shoehorning in references to THE LATEST TECHNOLOGIES which make them seem even more clueless than ever. (Your main character has a MYSPACE account? What is this, the War of 1812?)

The main characters of these books are all the same guy. He spends three hundred pages aggrandizing or belittling himself, but is ultimately the only fit judge of his self-worth and life. He is usually embattled, defending himself against the intrusion of silly, feminine interpretations of his behavior, lest he start making decisions based on the lives and feelings of others rather than his own childish needs. He blames everyone else for his problems, he is able to take women’s measurements on sight with eerie precision, but he’s not very good at sex. The decline of his libido is always a metaphor for death. ALWAYS. You get the picture.

(Continued)

Reminder!

Silvana can’t make it today. Why? Who knows why!? She has a life, apparently, and lawyering, and a wedding and so on and so forth! HOWEVER, for those of you who are (a) in New York and (b) enjoy watching me make a fool of myself, I will be reading tonight as a part of the very exciting and sexy Paper Cone Reading Series. It is at 8:00! It is at Jack’s Stir Brew, at 138th West 10th Street. I will be the girl with the glasses fulminating about something or other. Come! Listen! Enjoy!