Alarming News: I like Morgan Freeberg. A lot.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: We were following a trackback and thinking "hmmm... this is a bloody excellent post!", and then we realized that it was just part III of, well, three...Damn. I wish I'd written those.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: ...I just remembered that I found a new blog a short while ago, House of Eratosthenes, that I really like. I like his common sense approach and his curiosity when it comes to why people believe what they believe rather than just what they believe.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is an intriguing guy...[he] asks great questions and answers others with style, flair, reason and wit. On the blogroll he goes. Make him a part of your regular blogospheric reading. I certainly will.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is brilliant.
Common Sense Junction: Misha @ Anti-Idiotarian never ceases to amaze me. He keeps finding other good blogs. I went over to A.I. this morning for my daily Misha fix and he had found this guy named Morgan Freeberg in Fair Oaks, California, that has a blog, House of Eratosthenes. Freeberg says its "The Blog That Nobody Reads" but it may now become the blog that everybody reads.
Jaded Haven: Good God, Morgan, you cover a topic from front to back with a screwy thoroughness I find mind boggling. I'm in awe of your thought proccesses, my friend, you're an exceptional talent. You start by throwing in the kitchen sink, tie in someone's syphilitic uncle, bend around a rip tide of brilliance and bring it all home in a neat, diamond dripping package of an exceptionally readable moment of damn fine wordsmithing. I love reading you.
Mein Blogovault: Make "the Blog that No One Reads" one of your daily reads.
Philmon: When Morgan meanders, stick with him - he's got a point and it'll be worth it in the end. He's not a hit-and-run snarky quip kind of guy. The pieces all fall into place like tumblers in a lock and bang! He's opened a cognative door for you.
Rightlinx: Morgan at House of Eratosthenes is one of the best writers out there. I read him nearly every day because he manages to provide an interesting perspective, even though I don't always agree.
Poetic Justice: Cletus! Ah gots a laiv one fer yew...
Someone needs to get these people the help that they need. Really, these are not mentally healthy people. It should be classified as some weird obsessive-compulsive disorder because that’s exactly what it is.
Let’s take a look at what we know happened here. Someone saw a picture of Wonder Woman in the Lynda Carter costume…which is nearly identical to all of the Silver Age costumes of the Champion of Themiscyra, going back to the very beginning. They looked at that costume with the bustier that conceals Wonder Woman’s tits. The bustier that is propped up by whatever structural stiffness it has, and absolutely nothing else. The bustier that fights not only gravity, but also whatever shifts and pulls and wrenches and tears and body blows come about while she is wrestling with giant gorillas or killer robots or superhuman Nazi clones. The bustier magically conceals the Wonder titties…and these sick asses looked at that and said, “I know what’s wrong with that! Wonder Woman is wearing shorts! Let’s fix that!”
Yes, Wonder Woman wears shorts. Male superheroes cover their legs up, superheroines show theirs. That’s the way it is because that is the way it’s supposed to be. Have you seen an average man showing his legs lately?
You want to re-vamp the costume, give Wonder Woman a collar so she’s got kind of a “Slave Leia” thing working for her. Or, just hook something on to the bustier, wind it around the back of her neck, and then hook it on to the other side so it’s got kind of a halter thing going on. Something that makes it believable the goddamn thing stays up while she’s a stowaway on the outside of a rocket, or a jet plane, or an alien spaceship, or whatever. Then people will sing your praises. They’ll say “Hey, there goes [blank], who made sure Wonder Woman’s tits finally remained properly concealed!”
Because let’s face it.
Nobody, but NOBODY…not Ted Nugent, not Patricia Ireland, not John Kerry, not Rush Limbaugh, nobody but nobody but nobody…is ever going to say “thank goodness the Good Lord saw fit to breathe life into the body of [your name here] who put Wonder Woman into a pair of pants.” Nobody wants to see that.
Here, I will explain it one MORE time:
Wonder Woman wearing a pair of little tiny shorts is not a symbol of female oppression. It wasn’t in the 1940’s and it isn’t now. You know what that symbolizes? The Olympic games. That’s what it is all about. Have you read the origin of Wonder Woman? She is, first and foremost, a champion. She was selected as the best of the best…and right after champion, she becomes a diplomat. She is an emissary sent from one world to another. She is an ambassador. The so-called “skimpy” costume is an emblem to be worn, to reflect the demanding physical nature of the contest by which she became a champion. It really isn’t clothing at all; if anything, it is a fabric mural telling a story of how she secured her position. It isn’t intended to be pin-up attire, it is intended to be competitive, athletic attire. Kind of a hodge-podge between a track running suit, and combat armor. To sum it up, she is a female Hercules.
And by the way, where she comes from everybody prances around buck-ass naked all day all year. It’s a story of perspectives, and from her perspective the classic Lynda Carter costume is…well…something like a burkha.
Yeah, it looks a little peculiar when she wears it into outer space with a plastic globe around her head. Whatever. She’s Wonder Woman. Deal with it.
Frankly, what we’re looking at here is the reason there will never be a female-action-star movie that makes real money. Never, never, not ever. It isn’t going to happen, because when you’re a female movie star, everything you do arouses controversy, and every controversy has to be resolved by means of the answer that is most assured of avoiding passion…and therefore, being boring. This counts double when the subject turns to the exposure of lovely female skin.
Tomb Raider: Wore shorts for the promotional shots, ran around fully clothed for the rest of the movie. Generated a decent revenue stream for opening weekend, got crappy reviews. Cradle of Life: No shorts outfit at all, one bikini scene, completely stupid plot, slightly better reviews though decidedly lukewarm, financial failure. Aeon Flux: Cartoon character who runs around showing everything, brought to life with a supermodel who’d look completely awesome naked — again, running around fully covered from head to foot the entire movie. Critics hated it. Audience hated it. Creator Peter Chung felt completely embarrassed and humiliated. Fiscal meltdown.
James Bond slaps on a pair of swim trunks and nothing else…ladies go “ooh!”…but the movie continues to be about whatever the movie is about. Bad guy’s laser cannon or nuclear sabotage or whatever. Colorful characters, goofy double-agents, gadgets, codes, decoder machines, betrayals…James Bond showing skin, does not become some controversial thing that takes over the entire production. You doubt me? Let’s say your wife coos at you to put in the Bond movie where Daniel Craig wears swimming trunks…or Pierce Brosnan…or Sean Connery. Do you know we’re talking Casino Royale, Goldeneye and Goldfinger? No, you don’t. Because those movies are about many, many other things. Result? Double-Oh-Seven continues to pull in a goddamn fucking fortune, every single time. Even the bad ones make money. There is effort put into the actual story, and the method in which it is told…there is “give a damn” in the movie. That’s what everyone wants, right?
Indiana Jones? I don’t even care. I’m a straight dude and I don’t swing that way. But if I have to attend to some tedious household chore for two hours, I can promise you Raiders of the Lost Ark has a whole lot more potential for being tossed into my Blu-Ray player, than any Tomb Raider movie, or Aeon Flux. It’s got heads melting and exploding — what do you think I’m going to do? Hell, I’d rather watch that second one with the slave kids and the screaming blond and the railroad cars, than Aeon Flux. The difference isn’t the action hero. The difference is the story. And the story got some attention because they didn’t use up all their bandwidth quibbling about forcing pulchritudinous females into long pants.
You read it here first, folks. The new Wonder Woman movie is going to be a financial Japanese-Tsunami-Reactor. And it’s not because Wonder Woman is covering up her legs; it’s because, since she is, we know the makers of the movie have all their priorities cockeyed. They’re focused on the wrong things. They won’t work hard to entertain the audience. They’d rather be politically correct than deliver the entertainment value to the audience, that the audience was promised.
What’s the problem with female legs, anyway? Where’d this come from? We’re a year and a half away from electing a female President with an awesome looking pair of legs. Isn’t it time we got past this?
Bare female legs…they’re like puppies, or kittens. Good enough to turn your bad day around and make it into a good one, even if you’re a straight female. C’mon, I’m only saying what everybody’s thinking already. Seriously, if you can lay eyes on a Wonder Woman costume and your first instinct is “those two need to get covered up”…and you’re not talking about the breasts…you are way, way off base and there is something wrong with you.
Some people just haven’t been around ladies’ gams long enough, and don’t know what they’re missing. They’ve become incrementally disconnected from their own humanity, and need to be brought back in touch with it.
Which I suppose is fine, all by itself. But how come they’re in charge of making all our movies nowadays?
We’re so obsessed with being properly entertained lately. It seems everything that reaches multiple people, has to be entertaining. Even the domestic & foreign policy of our government…we judge it according to whether it is entertaining or not, not by whether it is likely to achieve the results we say we want.
How come we allow our entertainment to become so incredibly boring? Radiant, ravishing, gorgeous, beautiful females, running around in long pants. They tell us we should clamor for more of this although the ticket sales clearly prove we don’t want it. Why do we tolerate this?
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