I have no qualms here. I’m morbidly obese with osteoarthritis, and am trying to lose weight and become healthy (it’s fucking hard). But I’ve since quit being resentful of fit, sexually active people. Go for broke! I’ll be on the oldest elliptical in the furthest corner, grunting and still trying to attract trainers…

You’re wrong. Not all men will rape, but I undoubtedly believe that all men are capable of it. And I’m a man. I don’t mean to fear-monger, but us men are more fucked up than you think you know.

Awards may be stupid, but an award as revered as an Oscar affects the opportunities filmmakers receive, and that’s no bullshit.

So, will she fight Holm in a rematch, or what?

That’s just it though: standards have been raised. Hollywood failing so much as to pass this test is a fair point. But why should the test still remain such a relevant talking point when conversations can move on and say “Fuck it!” while just dragging studios along, kicking and screaming?

Serious question: Isn’t the Bechdel Test becoming antiquated? I understand that the test is a measure of mere female presence alone, but could it be getting over-discussed and over-relied upon for judging movies and TV? Shouldn’t greater expectations phase this out?

Thanks, Alpaca. You expressed my point better than me.

That’s not entirely fair. You’re drawing comparisons between common responsibilities and talent. I agree that writers should become good at writing for both sexes, but writers who write compelling characters of both sexes do deserve recognition. It’s a difference of competence and excellence.

It’s obviously an April Fool’s joke.

Drop your drinks pick up your flamethrowers! Ya’ll know what’s up.

:)

Talk therapy.

This isn’t “mansplaining.” Men, let’s keep our legs closed, regardless of wingspans and knees: everyone’s cramped and uncomfortable anyway. And everyone, spread-leggedness explained into a data set isn’t a justification for said seating habit.

*eye roll* This isn’t patriarchy, ‘coco. Relax.

First Underwood, now Nixon. Next is Roosevelt, when he met a naked Churchill.

Many things I roll my eyes to. But shit of this ilk has me fuming so fucking hard, it could practically enrage me to tears.

Nice work, old timers. It’s a shame they were captured.

Crazy and idiocy know no bounds, ladies and gentlemen.

I’m a dude and I’d totally attend a high-heel church. You’d be crazy not to, Marie. Do you think it has footlockers for bibles and shit?

I’m not shivering with anticipation over this remake, Stassa. I’m not.