Here's a shocker: when you start dating your boyfriend thirty seconds after he leaves his wife, the woman who carried his eight children, he might not be sticking around with you for very long. You might also be surprised when, as his divorce is being talked about everywhere from websites, to TV shows, to our podcast and oh, right, on his reality show that perhaps maybe, just maybe, you, as the lady who decided to date this man, might be dragged through the mud along with him when his divorce from his wife and subsequent fall from A-#1 Super Dad status gets ugly. It was a fantastic idea to date him in the first place, don't get me wrong. I mean, as a "journalist" for Star Magazine who was supposed to be covering the shitstorm that is Jon and Kate Gosselin's life right now, you definitely did not overstep any boundaries by being with him in the first place. And yes, you should absolutely go on E!, Inside Edition and The CBS Early Show and let all of us know how he "totally screwed (you) over and acted like a dirtbag". Maybe, you know, you shouldn't have believed him when he said he would be with you forever. This is a man who started seeing you when he was still married. Perhaps, and this is just me rambling here, you shouldn't go on TV and get upset about how you broke up and are now having to deal with the aftermath. This is douchey behavior. Yes, Jon Gosselin's behavior was douchey, as well, absolutely, but you cannot fight douchebaggery with douchebaggery, you know what I'm sayin'?
Last week many of you contributed enlightening responses to my two part poston women directors and provided useful suggestions on we can do to ensure that Hollywood supports women producers, screenwriters, and directors. Thank you!
Since then, I've been thinking about what can we do to get Hollywood to do a better job of representing women in film as leading characters. And I'm curious – as consumers of culture, do we, in general, read books more than we go out to watch movies (at least mainstream movies)? And if this is so, wouldn't Hollywood be wise to make greater efforts to adapt books to film?
Should we help them out by making a list of books featuring women we admire, women who have inspired and moved us, and made us think about the world differently? I mean, though I can't speak for everyone, and I do occasionally loves me some gratuitous explosions, I'm fairly certain that an adaptation of Eat, Pray, Love is going to get more women in theater seats than say, G.I. Joe: The Rise of the Cobra.
What happens when a popular columnist and writer pens a "refreshingly honest--and brilliantly witty--celebration of the joys of getting wrinkly?" Nothing good.
Don't let the advance billing fool you--Virginia Ironside's new memoir is a misogynist, anti-sex turd wrapped up in fancy gift box of faux-empowerment.
Even though our sign got jacked a few days ago (we're gonna find you, s***bags!), Bitch Media's week has been pretty rosy. A successful subscription campaign, a new issue coming down the pipeline, and now a great write-up from the independent magazine for independent magazines, UTNE reader! Danielle Maestrettie couldn't have concluded her piece better: "Take a cue from Bitch and put your fate in your readers' hands." Our readers have consistently supported us, and as Maestretti pointed out, it's you, not our advertisers, whose support (financial and emotional!) has allowed us to ride the shifting tide of newsprint.
Like our Save Bitch campaign, our readers exceeded our expectations to help sustain Bitch. Over five hundred people subscribed or renewed in two weeks, supporting the magazine AND saving some bucks before the subscription price increased (and for price-per-ounce cheapskates like me, that's a win!), proving once again not only how much you care, but that our readers are the real reason Bitch is just staying afloat. We really feel like the luckiest folks around for having the best readers, subscribers, Twitter followers, letter-writers, etc!
Maestretti got another thing right--we are back! While folks around the office have been anticipating (and editing, proofreading, and laying out) the Consumed issue, it's always fun when we get sent sample copies! We're really excited about the new layout, and it looks like you think so too! Check out sample layouts on our Facebook page!
I can't say that this first episode of the third season of Mad Men wowed me, but I suppose it was inevitable, amidst all the hype, that the episode would disappoint at least one person in its audience. And indeed, it was something of a shaky start. Don's reminisicing - or, really, more accurately, reimagining, since he can't possibly remember - the circumstances of his own birth made for a rather confusing opener. Not only did there seem to be, literally, a dick joke in it (not a particularly clever one IMHO), it was an oddly sentimental moment for a character whose trademark is emotional opacity. Don has never been the kind of man who much interests himself with the inner lives of women, or more particularly someone attached to the notion of mothers and origin. He is, as the old saying goes, the epitome of a self-made man, constructed entirely of the things he thinks he wants to be, however disappointed he may be when he gets them.
These scenes seemed designed to tell us that Don is newly recommitted to his life at home with Betty and the kids (who are soon to number three). But we swiftly learn that he is still a womanizer. But there's something new about his taste. One of the things that has always rescued Don from the "complete tool on the subject of women" column has always been his interest in what used to be called "difficult" women - sexually-free, bohemian Midge; reluctant adulterer Rachel; ambitious Bobbie; mysterious Joy. Whatever might be said of Don's philandering, in short, at least the man had taste. But this time, Don is after an airline stewardess (played broadly by Sunny Mabrey with an irritating accent) for whom mystery and subtlety are foreign concepts. And, for the love of God, she's a blonde - very much what Betty might have been had her modelling career tapered off (the
stewardess coyly offers that she is asked all the time whether she, herself, is a model) and she had never gotten married.