Le Feministe Fatale

Belle boobs

No Belle Boobs! No Hermione Hiney!

Dear reader, after a weekend in which we learned that our special needs president threw a tizzy and North Korea’s equally stable Kim Jung Un threw some missiles (bringing us one twit-snit from nuclear war), I thought maybe we should start the week with something a little lighter from the celebrity files, no?

So there is this celebrity–we’ll call her Hermione Watson–and she showed something that rhymes with “rubes” and apparently you aren’t allowed to do that and keep your feminist sisterhood card in good standing.

Oh no, not at all.

So she responded:

“I really don’t know what my t**s have to do with it. It’s very confusing. I’m always quietly stunned.”

Confusing? Oh no, my dear cele-pretty. Telling women what they can and can’t do isn’t confusing, it’s the way it’s done. And it’s feminist because it’s women telling you what to do.

If it were a man telling you what to do, well, the sisterhood would have his b*lls for that.

Vive la différence!


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