Portlanders, we hope you're hungry, because Bitch is teaming up with our pals over at Voodoo Doughnut for our Consumed Issue Release Party! What does this mean for you, you ask? Good question! It means:
- Free doughnuts!
- Texass doughnut eating contest with fabulous prizes!
- Free doughnuts!
So join us on Thursday, September 24 at 7:00 pm at Voodoo Doughnut Too (1501 NE Davis St) for all the release-party-eating-contest-awesomeness you can handle. And be sure and let us know in advance if you're one of the brave few who wants to partake in the Texass doughnut eating competition. First come, first (very much) served. Signify your intent in the comments section (doughnut-eating-related trash talk encouraged).
So what do you say, Portland? Doughnut you want to come party with us? I know she does:
Friend-o-Bitch and blogger Jessica Wakeman has an interview with Diablo Cody at The Frisky that might be of interest to all you feminist film buffs out there. In it, Cody gives her two cents on the Riot Grrrl 90s, adolescent girl friendships, Jennifer's Body, and feminism in Hollywood.
Say! HERE'S something I can't not talk about: Chris Brown, domestic abuser, bow tie enthusiast, Oprah nemesis, and soon-to-be dancing fiend, now on approximately Week One Million of his I'm Not Really That Bad And Also Please Forgive Me For That Unspecified Thing I Did (Did I Mention I'm Not That Bad?) Tour.
For one thing, you can tell just by looking at her that she's an odd duck. She is prone, for instance, to wearing poof-y shouldered '80s jackets and things with polka dots. She claims to have intentionally gained weight because, as she put it in a recent Guardian article, "I don't want to be 'pretty'. I don't aspire to be like the Pussycat Dolls…I want to be an artist who people can believe in."
But it's Blay's songs that really do it. The twentysomething British songwriter goes by the name thecocknbullkid, and she has created her own musical world, one filled with equal parts quirky soul-pop (Macy Gray-ish), zingy synth-pop (Yaz-ish), and lo-fi computer zings (Midnight-Star-ish).
Sometimes after watching a movie trailer I have an immense desire to experience the film despite my having no real understanding of what it is about. The crispness of the three-minute preview of UK filmmaker Sally Potter'sRage has caused a pleasing chemical reaction in my brain, and after reading more about Potter's work, I am convinced a full viewing will be all the more pleasureful.
Congratulations to Michelle Bacon, who was just one of the 511 new or renewed subscribers in our Bitch 500 campaign! Picked at random, Michelle received a Bitch tote full of goodies including Snarky Cards, a Flapper Girl coffee cozy, fiction by Alexandra Leggat and more! Thank you Michelle and everyone else who subscribes to Bitch!
Do you want to be a winner too? There's still time to submit for a chance to receive Randa Jarrar's A Map of Home by entering our Feminist joke contest! Leave your jokes and comments by this Friday to be eligible!
Long before Lawrence Summers's unfortunate remarks at Harvard University a few years ago, there have always been powerful forces which assigned all manner of illogic to women's "inability" to excel at math and science. Their brains were too feeble to handle such difficult concepts, they claimed. And besides! Math and science were "right brain" and therefore "masculine" sciences so it wasn't in a woman's nature to be interested. Although there were some textbooks written to give women the knowledge they would need to carry on a polite conversation if the subject of science should arise, these books framed mathematics, physics, biology and chemistry in ways that the authors felt women could understand—through the lens of romantic love. Compound these shoddy arguments and weak study materials with the practice of barring women from attending universities and there was a pretty good chance you would not have seen an overwhelming number of women studying calculus 200 years ago.
However, there was certainly one women determined to pursue her love for mathematics, and she is the subject of our Adventure in Feministory today.
We have an endless fascination with tales of women and revenge, from cheating husbands forced to grovel in public to a little well-executed arson in an evil ex's home. But while schadenfreude makes for fun reading, does the media's rush to cover stories of public payback help perpetuate stereotypes of women as victims and men as wrongdoers? Or is revenge just really that sweet?
The television newswire was abuzz last week with the hiring of two new SNL funnywomen, Jenny Slate and Nasim Pedrad, but as it turns out, they’re not there to up the vagina quotient on a show that has always been Mostly About The Men. No, Slate and Pedrad are replacements for last year’s new ovary-hires, Michaela Watkins and Casey Wilson. And I suppose I should be saying something now about how insulting it is that women aren’t considered funny (thanks a bunch Chris Hitchens) and that there appear to be designated lady-spots on the cast of SNL – the 2009-2010 cast will contain just four inner-gonads havers.
But as I was trying to build up the requisite head of steam to write such a piece, I found I couldn’t, for once, muster the outrage. See, I wish I had something super-intelligent to say about either Watkins or Wilson, but let’s face it: at the best of times, I’m a casual SNL watcher. And just for fun, ask yourself this question: do you know ANYONE who watches Saturday Night Live faithfully anymore? I mean, absent complete boredom of a Saturday evening I can’t imagine forcing myself through an entire live broadcast. Hortense at Jezebel used to have people sit up and join in a thread, but once Tina Fey gave up Sarah Palin’s ghost last fall there was little appeal in it anymore. So I can’t help but feel, somehow, that it’s a compliment that few women are “funny enough” (scare quotes intentional) to be regular SNL cast members these days. It’s sort of like that time in my eight-grade gym class when the girls were made to watch the boys play basketball so that we’d “learn something.” Oh, we did, and that lesson was: bumping the ball with your knees does not count as dribbling.