As e-migo Nightfly put it so eloquently, there is no content, only SNUL. Anyway, here’s Ace of Spades bagging on some puerile feminist (birm) who is, get this, trying to get people to read her vapid boilerplate by talking about sex. You know, like all feminists do all the time.
Anyway, back in grad school I observed that it’s the girls who are almost kinda sorta halfway cute, or who would be almost kinda sorta halfway cute if they exerted some effort, who were the craziest. Yeah, your 300 lb lesbian warpig with the tie-dyed hair was bad, but she was at least predictably crazy. It was the chicks who mighta once, under juuuust the right set of circumstances, been considered not-unfugly that really stuck the psycho quadruple axel. The borderline’s borderlines, they were. And so just out of curiously I googled this Jill Filiopovic broad:
You must admit, that Glamour Shot (TM) is a rock-solid 6. And just for giggles, here’s Jessica Valenti, who wrote a whole book complaining about being a sex object, when not complaining about no longer being considered a sex object.
Last but not least, Amanda Marcotte:
Ok, ok, but if she stopped gearing up and went to a sighted barber, she’d be cute-ish. Right?
I know, I know, I’m an awful patriarchal bastard for dissecting these gals’ looks, and proving their point (whatever it is) to boot. But whatever; guilty as charged – I voted for Trump, too. But seriously: I’m tempted to argue that you can sum up all of pop-feminism with “we think we’re cuter than we actually are, and we’re going to get the government to force you to agree.”