2013's 13 Chauvinists Of The Year

The following 13 chauvinists have just got to be commemorated for their contributions to misogyny in this year of the snake as 2013 draws to a close.  Unfortunately it was difficult to narrow it down to a mere 13 but here they are, in no particular order:  

#13). Robin Thicke - for his awful music video that ran on like a pre-school porno that recently discovered Twitter existed and completely #negatedthepowerfullyrics.

(Eat the foot, eat it)!

#12). Seth MacFarlane - sang We Saw Your Boobs at the Oscars and trivialized Scarlett Johansson's erape.

(I hate you).

#11). Gavin McInnes - Vice Magazine co-founder managed to decry feminism and declare that women over 40 are all "fucking sad".  

(You're fucking sad brah).

#10). Yumi Stynes - blamed other women for Tropfest's (an event she was hosting) chronic exclusion of lady filmmakers, reflecting that ..."a lot of Twitter chat has been about the lack of female filmmakers here tonight.  There's a couple on there, and listen, if you're going to complain," Stynes complained, "why not go out and make a film yourself, ladies?"  You heard the woman, go make a movie via Grrrl Power!  (Porn doesn't count, LADIES)!  

(There, there.  Irony is supposed to be funny).

#9). Alex Bilmes - editor of Esquire impassively announced that women in his magazine are purposely "ornamental".  Because women are here as beautiful objects to be objectified as an object in the eye of the beholder that decrees what beautiful is because that's an objective perspective.  I wonder if he meant ornamental as in Christmas Tree ornamental or as in parsley next to a steak ornamental?  What's really a bummer?--Bilmes is rather unattractive, as in, sexually unappealing.  I wonder if a woman was editor of Esquire instead, if THAT would be an ornamental position for her?  Hmm...           

(I like my ornaments to ornament their eyes for me).

#8). Billy Ray Cyrus - hands down, is an epic failure at fatherhood albeit a probably very savy businessman.  We watched Miley Cyrus engage in spectacle after spectacle this year like the good little ornament she is, meanwhile we all are forgetting that Noah Cyrus is watching her too.  And has the same dad, hopefully not the same fate... 

(He must be so proud...of his diverse portfolio options). 

...but Noah's already wearing this type of outfit in public:

(Noah Cyrus).

Maybe she can dress up like her older sister Miley for Halloween in 2014!  Miley would be totally cool with it!

(See how cool she is)!

#7). DC Comics - attempted to sexualize suicide by adding character Harley Quinn to the dead-women-in-refrigerators troupe, as a contest!    

  (Anita Sarkeesian explains WiR so well)!

#6). James Taranto - wrote an article where he ridiculously laments over the so-called "war on men" and the criminalization of "male sexuality" spearheaded by "a political campaign against sexual assault in the military."  Maybe someone got him a copy of the documentary The Invisible War for Christmas?  

(Trailer for The Invisible War).

(Looks like feminism made him unhappy).  

#5). Richard Cohen - this opinion writer didn't hold back on calling the Steubenville Rape "so-called [rape]".  So much for those two 'so-called' RAPE CONVICTIONS.  In my opinion, he should read my post on erape so he can get that word in his lexicon and understand that rape need not to involve, you know, just intercourse against your will anymore in this digital era.  However, in all fairness it really is a well written article and he does chastise misogyny--ironically--yet Mr. Cohen does seem to be very misguided in his over focus on Miley Cyrus schooling him on what twerking is and less aware that an erotic dance is not somehow more outrageous then what so-called rape went down in Steubenville, OH.  My sincerest apologizes Mr. Cohen.

(Hopefully, I'm just taking you out of context...)?

#4). Hunter Moore - creator of Is Anyone Up? whose slogan is literally "Pure Evil" and probably can be accredited for popularizing the term "revenge porn".   

(This is what Moore looks like with less eyebrow, *shudder*).

#3). Backroom Casting Couch - oh, it's like erape porn, which is like 'unknowingly being sexually exploited'--that's what erape is in a nutshell.  Male fantasy in it's darkest form describes it as well.  Just click on this link and this link to get a better understanding what this bullshit is.  So anyone that 'works' for Backroom Casting Couch, you can go to hell.  Real actresses or disadvantaged women, wait, that's laughable, GIRLS, either way, the concept of fucking someone to "get ahead" shouldn't outlive itself in 2014.  (Let's hope).  But this creepy porn site aids in the proliferation of that notion and helps creeps whack off.  If these aren't actresses and truly is 'the real deal', then hordes of males are masturbating to erape which I personally find VERY disturbing.       

#2). Tom Leykis - this shock jock did an erape live on air in 1998 of Karen Carpenter which caused her major emotional distress but won the case against him even though the recording of the show--needed as evidence--was 'misplaced'.    He's also well known for his 'Leykis 101' where he instructs men on how to get laid with as little effort as possible.  

(I know what you're thinking, how can someone so cute behave in such a disgusting manner)?

#1). Holger Osieck - quipped back in June that "women should shut-up in public" and chalked it up to a "funny remark" that ended up getting completely misunderstood.  Yeah...  ...I'm going to shut-up now.

(All that's needed is a needle and some thread).  

     

Random Rant #564 - Where 'Sister My Sister', The Veronicas and Archie Comics Are All Just Wholesome Entertainment

Are you bored?

Do me a favor then and Google images of 'The Veronicas'.  You've most likely have never heard of them before.  They're twins from Australia that formed a rock band in 1999 by that tittle.  I actually kinda dig their music and was rocking out to them on YouTube earlier having just discovered their existence today. In the one YouTube video I watched is a still picture of them smashing their boobs together in an embrace.  This is not something most heterosexual women do.  It's something lesbians and bisexual women do.  Because they like their own boobs as well as the boobs of others and they want to smash their boobs into somebody else's boobs.  But the picture disturbed me nonetheless because, they're siblings and even though it's cool to boob smash with strangers, I don't really see how it's cool to boob smash with your twin.

I'm sure it's most men's wet dream--if you want to buy into the subscribed sexuality of manhood that's been sold to you, sure--when two hot female twins smash boobs but the ick factor kicks in for me because it seems blatantly incestuous, which for my level of ethos is bothersome.  So either Jessica and Lisa Origliasso are just really close or they're really close.  Which could be a total possibility if they are both narcissistic.  Another possibility is that it's a marketing gimmick, which also ups my ick factor.  It's like, why'd ya'll bother picking up a microphone to sing?  Why not just do the sensible thing and get into porn like the Barbie Twins?

It wouldn't be the first time two sisters fell in love though.

The movie 'Sister My Sister' is all-woman production set in provincial France in the early 1930's and it's a really good fucking movie, so good, I won't spoil the ending but it was based on a true incident that occurred in Le Mans, France in 1933 called the Papin murder case.  The murder shocked the country at the time, and there was much speculation about the sisters, including allegations that they were having an incestuous lesbian affair with each other.  The movie confirms those speculations and renders their forbidden love with such delicate tenderness that I still can vividly recall the tale of the older sister telling the younger sister how they managed to contract matching scars and the observation made by the old gypsy woman.

Christine and Lea Papin weren't twins or sell-out musicians though, they were French maids who worked 14 hour days and only got one half day off a week for themselves.  Plus their father was alleged to have raped their elder sister, Emilia.  So their story is one that I can understand. 

I don't understand Jessica and Lisa Origliasso picture poses though and it disturbs me.  On a personal level.  It's one thing to be in love with your sister and quite another to be in love with someone who's not only related to you but also looks exactly like you.  So even if Jessica and Lisa have no incestuous narcissistic lesbian intentions towards one another, the fact that it's certainly implied -- is disturbing.  Why even imply something like that?  Especially to--what?--sell a few more records to the boys that wish the Barbie Twins were singing instead of doing porn?  It doesn't make sense.

This part doesn't make sense either, Archie Comics launched legal action against the group 'The Veronicas' for trademark infringement in relation to the character Veronica Lodge, in an attempt to stop them from using the name.  Archie comics had asked Warner Music Group to hand over all publicity rights and to pay $200 million in damages.  In a statement with New York Times Michael I. Silberkleit, chairman of Archie Comics Publications, Inc. commented:

"The importance is the image of Archie, which everybody knows is good, clean, wholesome stuff, [...].  Preventing unauthorized use of the name will protect both the characters and customers who have paid for licensing rights [...]."

A settlement was reached that included a cross-promotion deal, including an appearance in an issue of Veronica Lodge's comic book.  The issue (#167) featured a card with a code allowing a free download of their single "4ever" in MP3 form.   A few months later, Archie and Friends (#100) featured The Archies meeting The Veronicas.  The next issue of Archie and Friends (#101) also featured The Veronicas, with Archie as their biggest fan.

I grew up reading Archie and Betty and Veronica.  So I seriously cannot believe that Michael I. Silberkleit said that the image of Archie is something of which "...everybody knows is good, clean, wholesome stuff..."  because if trying to make up your mind over if you're in love with Betty or Veronica while making out with not only both of them but other girls, err 'love interests', from comic to comic is good, clean, wholesome stuff--can somebody please explain to me what bad, dirty, unwholesome stuff is?  Veronica and Betty would tramp about in bikinis and mini skirts in every other issue. Veronica couldn't make up her mind between Archie and Reggie and a troupe of other boys from comic to comic.  Midge went back and forth between Moose and Reggie.  Hell, even Betty would stray from Archie's side occasionally to build plot.  And lets look at Veronica Lodge herself, what got Mr. Silberkleit all up in arms in the first place over the Origliasso's naming their band her first name that actually had nothing to do with Archie Comics, she's a money grubbing, self-centered, spoiled, rich bitch that relies on daddy, Mr. Lodge, for money to afford her all her ridiculous and over priced parties and clothes.  She's not a role model, trust me, I was always rooting for Betty as Archie's main love interest.  Archie Comics is an unrealistic idealized portrayal of borderline promiscuous indecisive teenagers and I actually LOVE Archie Comics.  But calling it good, clean, wholesome stuff is just saying the naked emperor has a nice robe on.

Now you might have made it this far and even Googled images of The Veronicas and you're probably like wth are you talking about Munchausen Syndrome (mainly because the boob smashing pic is a still in a YouTube video and doesn't seem to appear as an image on Google's server), these pictures look fine.  Then I'll tell you to do, what I told my boyfriend to do, Google Images 'Hanson' and 'Spice Girls' and then do a little compare and contrast and you'll see why I'm wondering why Jessica Origliasso doesn't pull a Sting and sing "Don't Stand So Close To Me" to her twin sister Lisa.

Maybe none of this matters but my point is, that we're all victims of imagery and if we don't step back sometimes and question those images and their social connotations or at the very least, merely just think about them and what they mean then we have a passive intellect that's falling us. 

I don't believe in absolute truths, I do believe in situational ethics but I still believe in ethics and strive to be as ethical as possible in my day to day going-ons in the various situations I find myself in.

Is it unethical to be a lesbian?--no, I don't think so.

Is it unethical to sleep with your sister?--I personally wouldn't want to sleep with my sister if I had one, but if she was my twin and just as cool as me?--sure, maybe I wouldn't date around.

Does that mean the future holds for us the human race the possibility of us all becoming image conscious freaks to the point of being SO narcissistic that we'll just clone ourselves to have someone to fuck and hold and love?--maybe, but it'll all be done in the name of good, clean, wholesome entertainment I'm sure.

The True Tale Of Riding The Wave At Geauga Lake

Geauga Lake closed in 2007 but I had gone there when I was still quite little, like, in the 80’s little, and had gotten to be the first batch of humans that got to experience their new amusement park feature, called ‘The Wave’.

Aptly named, it was basically a humongous pool and every 15 minutes or so an automated, machine generated wave would convalesce its way through the pool.  But there was sure to be one.  The Big One.  That WAVE that would knock you on your ass and if you didn’t want to get caught in that particular wave, you needed to get your ass outta of the pool stat.  I’m vaguely remembering the aura of fear, alarms even.  Terrified over-weight moms in neon tutu swim dresses, with fully made-up faces struggling to climb up out of the pool in time.  Just in the nick of time to get out of that wave’s way.   

But there I was.

In the shallow end of the pool. 

Of ‘The Wave’ and I remember that like the instant was more real than this current present moment, it was before sex, sin, boys, college.  I was in a one piece bathing suit with white and purple stripes, and to this day, it has always been my most favorite swimsuit.  I didn’t even know what the term girl encompassed yet.  I, was—as my teacher’s complained to my father in grade school about it—a tomboy.  A waste of pink.  Shucks.  And no Lego’s for you either.

Chlorine immersed, barely fitting in the hole that was actually too big for me, of the center of my school bus yellow inner tube, feeling sunshine.  No fear.   I was a fantastic wave jumper, had enough practice at Lake Erie, I could jump 15 foot waves, no problem.  The alarms went unquestioned, unheeded.

Then the wave came.  ‘The Wave’.     

The tubes parted, the delighted yells really had seemed to morph into terrified shrills and shrieks.  It was bigger and quicker than you thought.  It wasn’t Lake Erie, it was an eerie pool.  And I had water in my mouth and nose, it was dragging me into itself, tearing me away from the inner tube and my friends.  Sucking me down, then, tossing me up, completely out of the water and up towards the sky.  I ended up landing face first on my right temple in less than a foot and a half of water.  That blue speckled concrete shit on the bottom of most public pools, met my face.  It was cold, hard, darkness.  Then I remember, less intensely, about a small crowd since apparently everyone there had watched me fly up and out of the pool, probably wondering how I didn’t break my neck, my father checking my limbs for breaks and bruises.    

I began crying because everyone was watching me but not helping me.  And feeling helpless, endeavoring through the tears to articulate to the man who held custody and keep of me, where it actually hurt.  “No Daddy, it hurts here.  Right here!”  Hysterical that he can’t figure out what part of me actually hurt.  I started to tantrum a bit pointing to my face.  Every time I said “here”, he was hearing “ear” and was looking at my left ear instead of my right temple.  My dad kept saying that there was nothing wrong with my ear and when I became desperate to just be, merely understood, I stomped and screamed, “Not EAR!  HERE, it hurts right here!”  Pointing repeatedly to my head trauma. 

My father slapped me in the face and told me to calm down.

Again, just the crowd, watching.  Doing nothing.  His girlfriend, doing nothing.

I sobbed in defeat, I hung my head and stared at my feet.

Then he finally saw what I was trying to show him.  That I wasn’t alright.  I wasn’t okay.  Just maybe, he shouldn’t of slapped me and instead just listened to me?  I don’t know what he thought.  But he saw the quickly swelling multicolored bruise that was protruding, growing along my brow bone.  Causing me agony that I remember more clearly then standing wet on the wooden deck.  Wondering why my father had slapped me?

Riding in the back of the ambulance golf cart to their onsite medic.  An icepack covering half of my face.  Staring backwards at the people staring backwards at me.  Getting to the hole of a clinic.  Stacks of paperwork.  Apparently ‘The Wave’ almost kills a lot of people.  I was examined, iced and administered baby aspirin. 

I never even so much wadded in The Wave if I ever ended up at Geauga Lake after that happened.

Prozac Nation. - (longish poem)

Is it a little green bag or a little green pill, Alice?

Gotta find some kind of sister kind

You’ve trespassed and surpassed most boundaries

Making blunders and bypassing foundries

Because you never seem to get enough rest in

Jew eyes might’ve read you but never did listen,

Even then, lines were skimmed & no one listened,  

Now you know that stars are just ghosts

And there’s no sense in wishin’.

Your heart – a French crimson balloon

And the boys don’t swoon anymore like they used to

Shoes break you, your arches are like a London Bridge

So many sighs are falling

While no signs are coming

No one’s calling, no one’s there to forgive

So busy not dying, forgot how to live

Screaming from a rabbit hole

Holy water & blood

Would they hear your cries through the flood?

Are you brooding alone again, Alice?

Are you in your ivory tower or glass palace?

Are you steady on your balance beam,

                Or have you lost your valance?

Didn’t need a codex or a decoder

                Your sisterhood is scrambled &

Completely out of order.

This court of crows

Would never condemn their murder

The last thing you want

Is another listless sitcom

Or tasteless burger

That electric typewriter is gone

You gave it to George the recovered heroin addict when you lived in Lakewood because he was a poet too

And he recited one to you

Alice, did you lose the game rules?

How can you be sore and unbruised?

How can you be so spent when you’re unused?

How long you gonna be a kid ruining the soles of your shoes?

Who cut the breaks on you?

Why you askin’ so many taxin’ questions…

…in your delicate state.

All those brahs thought you was just one of ‘em hoes to gyrate

And Skygate might be the only God you now know;

Alice, are you bigger or smaller now?

Did ya’ find Dinah a dahlia?

A keyhole to fit through?

Did it taste funny, that mushroom?

And to think, all Cinderella had to do

                was loose a fucking shoe.

DON JON, Despite The "Joisey" Accents, It Is STILL A Great Flick! - (film review) ***MINOR SPOILERS***

Good news everyone, Scarlett Ingrid Johansson can actually act and really did out do herself in the memorable role of Barbara Sugarman!  Joseph Gordan-Levitt wrote such an original contemporary screen play - if he doesn't win some type of award for his kick-ass directing skills, everyone in Hollywood is deaf and blind.  Exciting, multilateral, having a real heart and soul to it that's lacking in most recent film, it still manages to be extremely edgy, still brooding, still serious, so serious, it'll hold your attention long after the end credits have finished, thus I have to recommend it to any movie lover or intellectual.   

Really I almost feel like my tweet that DON JON is a mesh of American Psycho and Harold & Maude is actually kind of an insult to reduce it in that type of summation, it's that good.  I only state there's an American Psycho element to it because there is a strong focus on the fast food, shallow, superficial culture we're all so enmeshed in.  Practically drowning in.  All of our normally corporate spoon fed culture that's covered in a fine sparkling sheen of clear wrap, its contents still one molecule away from plastic.  Until everything's flavorless soul-food.            
Not DON JON though, it's a virtual buffet of soul-food.

Characters Jon Martello Jr. and Barbara Sugarman really do struggle against numerous plastic media enforced false fantasies about sex and gender.  It's a mirror on how we all struggle and what we struggle against.  But it all ultimately boils down to emotional porn, everything from the romantic comedies to the money shot.  Even physical, sexual pornography has undertones of emotion that pull a viewer into it, we can't discredit lust as an emotion.  Young boys or the generally ignorant often forget that pornography is just another form of acting and are responding to it emotionally in actual reality, and we don't even know what the long-term societal effects of this phenomena of easily accessible hardcore pornography are, much less what they are going to be.  Porn is fast-food sex.  DON JON also highlights on how often males are portrayed as having little to no emotion--which is not true.  And what is this hyper-Hollywood advertising imagery doing to the minds and souls of not only females, but of males, how is it affecting ALL of our minds and souls; what is it doing to the famous that are still endeavoring to connect to the rest of us on a very grounded human level?  Instead of being portrayed by the paparazzi as these untouchable demigods of wealth--why is it that the truly creative voice is needing to be self produced due to a stifling of originality by the traditional distributors?  Why are we reduced to shallow sexual shoppers, reveling in our poverty instead of questioning it?  That may not be Mr. Gordan-Levitt's intention behind DON JON but they are questions I still can't help taking away.

Some scenes were truly uncomfortable yet so insightful of the He-Man macho culture, like when Tony Danza (who should have gotten more roles, my God can this man act) mocked a mounting gesture towards Barbara behind her back, purposely directing her on where the place the casserole--or whatever it was--just so he could make this motion and have a better view of her ass. Danza plays Jon Sr. so it was really icky that the dad approved of his son's choice in women namely due to how much he wanted to bang her himself.  It was such a grimy thing to watch, but maybe that's where Jon Jr. kinda got the idea it was okay to be a serial one-night-stander initially?  (I was grouped by someone's uncle once, so that type of shit happens).  The other scene that was really uncomfortable was when there was this commercial on TV of this like almost nude woman eating a cheeseburger at this impossibly high beauty standard and you just watch Jon Sr. & Jr. kinda ogle her, while the mother and daughter, sister to Jon Jr., look impossibly miserable and put out.  That one moment said more then I could ever write about it.  Because that type of shit happens too.                 

DON JON speaks for itself, so check out the trailer below and what writer and director Gordan-Levitt had to say about the movie himself and hopefully you'll watch it, think about it, talk about it, hell, even write about it.  I'm also excited to see what Johansson will maybe go on to produce on her own after being involved in a project like this and of course, what JGL's next brainchild will be.  Put it in your queue!  ...what are you waiting for?!--Do it now!      

Oh yeah, and check out this "real" Twitter feed of fictitious Jon Martello Jr., it's hilarious.  

Revenge Porn, "Ratters", Creepshots, Is All ERAPE And This Is Why...

...I thought I knew what Revenge Porn was.

And maybe dear reader, you might not even have heard of Revenge Porn yet.  This woman does an excellent job of breaking it down:

But not until I read this article based on true accounts, did I become aware that a seemingly disproportionate amount of women and girls had been hacked for intimate photos they had never even planned on sharing willingly with others.  As if the notion of Revenge Porn in and of itself weren't despicable enough.  But getting hacked, having private information getting blasted over the internet, resulting in the loss of relationships, friendships, jobs, and lives?--that's just an evil notion to "profit" off of.  Where there was not even a so-called "revenge" committed just a random series of malicious acts on a stranger having done no wrong doing at all.  And where does the data mining stop?--are drunken cleavage shots game?--bikini's?  Some of these photos were Photoshop-ed and occasionally Photoshop lies can be very precise:       

Hunter Moore, creator of IsAnyoneUp?--the first original Revenge Porn site--appears to have little remorse and feels little responsibility despite being an originator of this idea and enabler of like-minded others to have a platform to share a common interest in being creepy, soulless, infants.  

It's erape, it's sexual exploitation.  It's a gross violation of social trust.  It's setting a terrible example to the younger generations.  It's awful that law enforcement does so little!      
   
It's truly terrifying how many women don't know the real dangers that can be out there.

Charlotte Laws is calling it cyber rape, I've been calling it erape, but before concepts of a supposed digital abstract "rape" can even be hoped to be remotely understood, it's important to understand the word rape in and of itself.  The dictionary definition of rape is varied but I'm going to stick with the nonsexual definition of the word actually for this purpose which means to plunder, to spoil, to carry off by force, so rape is really about brutalization, having no reverence for sanctity, to ruin, to take away, to choose your choice for you.  Sexual rape means lack of consent at its core.  I did not give you consent, I said no, you hit me, you fondled me, you leered at me, you breathed on me, you touched me, when I said no.           

Sexual rape is a physical violation, that you can be conscious of or not be conscious of happening but you personally rather it not happen yet it is and against your will.  Against your consent.  If your body is a temple someone is defiling your temple.  They take something from you, they make you feel like a disposable object and then ask how you could have prevented it when it's done to you, when you ask for justice.  While your rape kit rots on a shelf.  

Erape is as just as physically and emotionally violating and devastating as physical sexual rape because it's the fucking Goddamn ultimate invasion of privacy.  It's the ultimate mindfuck and it should be criminalized, it should be illegal, it should be handled seriously.  But right now, regular ol' rape isn't handled seriously enough, if at all.  You know what phrase I wish will die in the next 50 years?--"Boys will be boys."  You know how many rapes or sexual assaults and sentencing that phrase has probably glossed over like an effect from Photoshop?  Boys will be, what?!--not held accountable for their actions?

I remember being a child and watching like a Donahue type show and this woman called in, giving the most heartbreaking account of a gang rape she experienced in her home, while wearing a granny gown and a night-robe, in advanced stages of pregnancy.  She was a victim of a home invasion at the hands of some bored teen-aged males and she eventually lost a baby she actually wanted.  Each boy got a slap on a wrist and barely a criminal sentence apiece, can't remember how long, but even in my small head I remember thinking, "That's...that's...it?"  The women proceeded to inquire of the judge why, why were you so lenient on them, and the judge said to her, "Boys will be boys."  Her voice broke over the phone on the television, faceless, she protested that she was safe in her home, not even her ankles showing, not dressed like a whore "deserving to get raped" "just asking for it", that all she had been expecting was a baby...

We can't treat erape as just another "boys being boys" situation and we can't let them cry about the infringement on their rights and mince over copyright law.  That's not what this is about.

It's about a lack of consent and dare I say, knowledge.  

Like a creepshot is a form of erape.  But you'd have to even know what a creepshot was to ascertain if you're the subject of one.  Lemme paint an innocent enough picture for you, you feel bloated and you want some ice cream and it's like 2:00AM, so you slap on your yoga pants and drive up to the gas station, the ice cream that you wanted was on a shelf too low or a shelf too high and you were too preoccupied with you task to notice the creeper with a yoga pants fetish hovering about taking highly sexually proactive photos of you, without your knowledge or consent on his smartphone.  To later get uploaded, on a forum where other creeps do the same shit, it's like a game to them, and they masturbate to you, and they grade you, critique you.  These are not the type of men or boys, you want to date, get married to, and have children with, God forbid, have daughters with.  It's not as easy for us ladies to spot the rapist and the pedophile right from the rip, you assholes don't exactly come with "tramp stamps" - if ya know what I mean.                                

What if they get enough of your face during a creepshot and they upload to a Facebook account they manage (try looking up just "yoga pants" on Facebook the next time you log in and see what you find) and through Facebook's new face recognition software the creeper knows your name?!  They've found your online profile and maybe an email address, phone number, and IM handle.  That's all they need to invade your life if they so desire.  Or they are hackers and hack into your phone and steal all those naked selfies you decided to not send your ex after-all...   

When I think about Amanda Todd...

...about very young girls making YouTube videos of themselves to get evaluated on a false idea of beauty voluntarily asking complete strangers, "Am I pretty or am I ugly?"...

(Why aren't you busy inventing a new computer programming language instead?!  Oh that's right, we got investors in pink dye).

...when I think about RAT operators referring to the females they stalk and erape at will as slaves...

...I wonder if on your hypothetical way to the gas station bloated one day in yoga pants for ice cream the truck your driving behind has this kind of paint job on his tailgate...

...would the driver be a "ratter", a creepshot taker, a revenge porn uploader or just a revenge porn view, just your average normal eraping guy or are those tailgates blank, more low profile, less "hilarious"?

Defend the women in your life.  Especially if most dudes would erape them, while raping them, hogtied, and calling them a slut.  

Educate yourself, educate others.  Be the change you want to see in the world.  Stop #erape!   

ALSO READ:

The Price of Pleasure: Porn, Sex, and Silence - Part I

The Duke University Porn Star, Adolescentophilia, and Predatory Capitalism Connection

Does Porn Aide In The Creation Of Sexual Serial Killers?

The #AfterSex Selfie - Is It Pushing Digital Boundaries On The Topic Of Love?

3 Contemporary Inspirational Women You Needed To Know About Yesterday

Why Lovelace's Ordeal Is Our Ordeal

*IS* This REALLY The Best Way To Check Deez Nutz, Fellas?

DON JON, Despite The "Joisey" Accents, It Is STILL A Great Flick! - (film review) ***MINOR SPOILERS*** 

Tree Topper - (short poem)

Patty, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful and I know what you did was dear,

And that your intention was to give a memory full of yuletide cheer,

I appreciated the trip to the pine tree farm, very much,

At the garden of olives—it was an ideal lunch

And I don’t mean to be, such a bother or a bore

But what you have given me is just another task, another chore.

While he’s off watching fool’s ball,

My hands will be quite sore,

Besides, the needles are already browning

And I’m already frowning

At the hours this phantom limb is demanding

Unobtrusively ever green and reprimanding…

So as I don’t mean to be mean,

Patty, I don’t intend to sound ungrateful or queer, and I know what you did was dear…

…but could you perhaps, maybe, not get us a Christmas tree next year?

*IS* This REALLY The Best Way To Check Deez Nutz, Fellas?

This lovely lil' online PSA came out back in 2011 but I only recently saw it today.  In it, a epicurean platinum blonde will instruct the male you might love and/or tolerate in your life on how to check themselves for testicular cancer.  It's an all around eyeful.  My initial reaction when first viewing the extremely graphic "how-to-cup-your-balls" vid was that just as easily as it objectifies the female form, it also seemingly literally emasculates the male.  I didn't really feel like elaborating my sentiment to the brash libertarian with the conservative republican leanings who shared this clip with me but, it's a woman holding a pair of disembodied nuts.  It's typically the males featured in film that get to brandish about dismembered feminine bits.  Talk about getting The Shocker, (amiright, duders?).  See for yourself:

Is this femme fatale really necessary however?  It's a bit over the top perhaps.  Especially when this particular Rage Comic created a bit of a stir:

Especially since it turns out that a dude pissing out a positive e.p.t. isn't just a hilarious dadaism, it means his coin purse is full of cancerous rocks.  Seems like it might be a wee bit more effective to relay a PSA in an impacting role reversal in that way instead.  Seems like it would create a dichotomy of similarity among the sexes instead of perpetuating the preexisting one of singularity.  In an ironic moment, a man would finally potentially know the true terror that can strike in the hearts of some at seeing an encircled pink plus, and that motherhood is no laughing matter.     

Meredith Chivers, a sex researcher, recently discovered that women are inherently pansexual whereas men are not.  It would explain our clitoris that is solely devoted to sexual pleasure and for no other cause.  If we were ever made in the image of a god, would it not be possible that the feature that would best embody the divine be the clit?

Chivers also unearthed that more women than ever before are having same sex experiences.

Which is something I had predicted at a rather young age as happening since women are just as likely to be attracted--if not even more so than a man--to another woman.  The flood of t'n'a that we're drowning in is manufacturing lesbians.  Women like beauty and most men fall sort of the mark, to be blunt.

Unfortunately, I'm unable to locate the exact link to share here but the other week I had found a blog that's even more radical in thought, the particular entry I had read was written by a man about this image of Tinkerbell's clothing makeover:   

   

He basically was saying that the image of Tinkerbell on the left would create dykes and that the more"traditional" icon on the right of her would ensure that females remain sex objects in order to be exclusively heterosexual...   

...riiigghhtt...