Because Parisians usually have heart attacks if they encounter a pole without a sexbot grinding away on it.
What is this?
You are reading I Blame The Patriarchy, the patriarchy-blaming blog that advances the radical feminist views of Twisty Faster, a gentleman farmer and spinster aunt eating dinner in Austin, Texas.
I Blame The Patriarchy is intended for advanced patriarchy-blamers. It is not a feminist primer. See Patriarchy-Blaming the Twisty Way for details.
"I couldn't get Twisty's point. It was so longwinded." -- The Blogosphere
Never view this blog using Internet Explorer.
Email Twisty.Faster at G mail
Should you wish to flatter me with theft
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.
Oy. All that hocus pocus just to chat with dear ol’ Aunt Twisty. Whew! Just wanted to share this with y’all: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/3759426.stm
Kinda goes with the lamp post thing, eh?
~M~
Oh, dear. That _is_ a problem.
A sexbot with magenta hair, no less. That poster really does look incongruous against the quaint cobblestone street and sidewalk.
Nice to see poles aren’t going to waste in the old country. Perhaps they should rent out stripper shoes on the street in case anyone is suddenly moved to dance?
Fuck. It just boggles the mind.
Real friggin’ cute.
I am hardened to such manifestations of Eurocrap, having lived there so many years.
Models used in Madrid to chase tennis balls? Makes me long for the days of Franco. Guess we should be relieved that they have clothes on at all.
I am so sick of patriarchy…our fashion choices are coming down to thong or burqa. Blame, blame and blame some more. My head feels as if it will explode with Blame.
Everyday, when I venture out of my hole, I shudder in anticipation of the daily onslaught of advertising that will invade my personal space, of which 90% will objectify women in some way. Whether I’m answering natures call and get smacked in the head with a “Zoom” media ad in the loo, or slapped upside the head with some laminated graphic on the floor telling me to consume more cow juice, I didn’t think it could get any worse. But Praise Be to The Patriarchy for leaving no stone un-turned. Now, when we finally get those lights installed on our dark streets in town so that us women-folk can feel just a tad more secure in knowing that they’ll have somewhat of a better chance of seeing their rapist coming, those very lamp posts will help to fuel said rapists burning fire for teaching the woman a lesson on who’s in charge *fap fap fap*
Noone should be surprised by this. France’s traditional Christmas family involves gathering round the set, grans and tots and all to watch this. The posters go up every November. (OK, so in the UK it’s James Bond, but at least there’s a plot, of sorts.)
Ugh. If those went up in my town I would be ripping them down-in broad daylight too. FUck that shit. Where is our direct action team?
Seconding Bunny on this. Jesus. i thought lampposts were, you know, for lighting things. (Though, if the shoes Schatze suggests are those Japanese fetish shoes you had up a while ago, they could be decent weapons… in fact, that’s probably the ONLY thing those shoes are good for.)
I don’t understand why they aren’t bare breasted. A strange holding back in a country where such things are commonplace.Or perhaps they are not - but if it were patriarchal headquarters, Italy, you can be sure that they’d be bare breasted and having sex with animals.
From the L’Art Du Nu: ” It is the world famous Crazy Horse, which has been unsurpassed for half a century as a radical innovation that exalts the female form as both artistic expression and entertainment. ”
Doncha just love it? And here I keep getting this dumbass idea that i’m just a person until the patriarchy reminds me that I am ‘artistic expresion and entertainment’.
Hence the decorated lamp posts, decorated if you will, with people, yes people, they fart, they burp, they have pimples and warts.
Then there’s the tennis thing: “After a match in which the umpire had to remind a confused ball-girl to return to the side of the net, Andre Agassi said he was less than impressed.”
So the patriarchy gets the traditional two-way entertainment; hot and dumb chics. Feel weak and horny, then temper it with a shot of false superiority.
Anyway, what the hell is a ‘minister of equality’? in a primarily catholic, patriarchal country? Probably a lone woman with an office in the boiler room of a grade school somewhere, with a rotary dial phone and an underwood typewriter.
Doesn’t matter if their breasts are exposed. It’s a difference of degree, not of nature.
UNDERWOOD!!!
I have 2 of those, I love them so much!