Who else could write a sentence like this in critique of a silly feminist rant titled: Rihanna’s Boobs Make Me Feel Better About My Body at elle.com
(Whose “ideal” is this? Who is Blake Lively? Could Elle please post side-by-side comparison photos of Blake Lively’s “gravity defying” breasts and Justine Harman’s pendulous udders, so readers could vote on which we like better? I don’t know if that would strike a blow against patriarchy, but it would probably drive a lot of traffic.)
All joking aside read the whole piece which closes thus:
Feminists oscillate between utter confusion and fanatical certainty, and this kind of Rorshach inkblot reaction — “Rihanna’s breasts are sending me messages!” — is further evidence that feminism is less a political movement than it is a psychiatric symptom.
Do these people ever actually become adults?