If only I were a caption-blogger.
You know those beer commercials that appeal to hairy-knuckled 18-to-34-year-old morons with the jolly idea that guys own whatever they penetrate? This Flux dude believes that I (along with fellow-blamer Hedonistic) “overreacted” to these “fairly innocent and clever” ads when I posted a couple of paragraphs about them a few weeks ago. Apparently my having satirized Boo-Yah Nation with a bunch of totally made-up shit about an obscure French historical figure with a finger stuck in a beer bottle amounts to an egregiously wasteful intellectual expenditure.
(Words cannot express the gratitude that washes over me when male persons express concern for the potential depletion of my mental reserves whenever I cast uncalled-for aspersions on “minor foolishness” like misogyny. Indeed, after having completed the arduous yet ultimately silly task of composing the aforementioned 150-word inflammatory lampoon, I had to lie down and stare blankly at the ceiling for two hours. Next time I’ll try to remember to laugh along with the funny sexist comedy-joke instead of getting so riled up I resort to inventing French history just for the hell of it. Think of the brainpower I’ll save! Maybe I can use it to clean toilets.)
Flux further speculates that I am “out of [my] mind,” intimates that because he has seen beer commercials that were even more sexist I shouldn’t be writing about this one, and declares that it is precisely my sort of irrational crap that gives the Rush Limbaughs of the world “grist for their ‘feminazi’ mills.”
Rather than risk further diminution of my loony Rush-baiting girl-brain, I’ll refrain from making fun of that tired old metaphor.
I hate to imagine what old Flux, regulator of female thought processes that he is, would say about the following hilarious excerpt from an indictment of the misogyno-homophobic Man-Eat-Meat Burger King commercials vs. patriarchy-approved Lean Cuisine ads. Nothing, probably, since it was written by a guy.
Contrary to Burger King’s celebration of men being revered for shoveling food into their mouths, Lean Cuisine molds women as such: a group of woman brag to each other about how shitty their dinner was last night.
“Last night I had a half bag of microwave popcorn.”
“I ate three leaves of lettuce.”
“I just ate right out of the cat’s litter box.”
But lo- the uppity one deigns to speak- “I had a delicious meal that actually tasted good.”
Astonished, she must then pacify her friends, ready to eviscerate her for her audacity. “Relax, girls! It was just a Lean Cuisine! A shitty frozen microwave dinner. I mean, Jesus, you don’t think I’d actually enjoy eating, would you?”
And then they all giggle and discuss the latest corset styles and what it would be like if they had the right to vote.
Today’s whole post, actually, was just an excuse to crib this bit.