I made a joke in the comments on THIS POST, at the Toast, about how I would like to watch a movie that was just Heather Lagenkamp and Jamie Lee Curtis going around and solving mysteries, but then I started to think about it and actually this is basically a completely amazing idea that I will now elaborate.

The premise of Final Girls, Inc., is that our heroines have formed what is essentially a private-detective agency, except instead of going around from town to town and fighting and killing monsters, they go around in search of other “final girls” — people who have survived horrific encounters with the supernatural — and help them cope with the trauma and put their lives back together.

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photo Practically speaking, when it comes to the severed head of a dead pig, I’m not sure there’s any substantive difference between actually having sex with it and just sticking your dick in its mouth.

Or, more precisely, I think there IS a substantive difference, just one that doesn’t apply here.  I’m still a Sexual Progressive after all:  if you really love that severed pig’s head, if you’re honest with it about your feelings and the nature of your relationship, by all means, make sweet love to it.

David Cameron isn’t really into necroswinophilia, though, you don’t fuck a pig because you love pigs, that’s not the point of pigfucking.

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angieHi, white ladies! Oh my god, you all look so cute. I love your dresses, are they vintage? OK, here’s the deal. Ever since I watched Trainwreck three times I can’t stop thinking about the ways that we (white feminists) keep throwing black people under the bus.

Why, why, why, when we are finally getting the opportunity to tell our own stories in our own voices are we turning around and deliberately using black people the way white men’s stories have always used us?

In Trainwreck, Amy Schumer goes out of her way to create a flawed, deep, complex female character for herself, and then for no discernable reason, adds this scene where she is on the subway when it stops in the tunnel. She asks the black woman next to her “why is it stopped?” and gets a classic Angry Black Woman response, something like “Do I look like the MTA to you? Do I have metrocards coming out my ass?” We never see the woman again, Amy gets where she’s going on time, there is literally no reason for this scene to be in the movie except that it is hilarious how black woman are always angrier than a situation warrants.

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trainwreck

I think this is right. –ed

Cara is a humourless man-hating American feminist artist. Harriet is a humorless man-hating British feminist PhD Candidate. Here, they discuss their reactions to Amy Schumer’s Trainwreck.

Harriet:

Yes, ok, so I enjoyed how Amy isn’t “nice” in the way we tend to expect female characters to be “nice”–she has complicated feelings about her aging, bigoted, father, she’s relentlessly mocking of her sister’s family, she pursues her own agenda when it comes to one-night-stands.

Cara:

I think what I really like is that she’s not only “not nice,” she’s also capable of being really nice, as she is to her dad. She takes care to preserve his things and visit him at the home. She loves her sister, even though she’s awful at showing it. She’s conscientious about not stealing the article that her co worker wants to work on.

Harriet:

Yeah, so although she’s not always as generous, or as malleable (struggling to find the right word here) in social/romantic/familial situations as we might expect, we’re still on her side. She escapes without being cast as the bitch (Tilda Swinton fulfills that role, just in case we’d forgotten what it looks like).

Cara

Fair. Let’s not be bitchless.

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hugo_sm

The Hugo Award is a rocketship, to indicate the importance of rocketry or something, I don’t know

(Okay friends!  We are trying to get back to some regularly-scheduled programming, now that this nonsense with the baby has settled down somewhat.  To reward you all for your patience, I’m starting on with some inside baseball horseshit about an obscure conflict deep in the nerdliest bowels of the science fiction & fantasy community.  Maybe this is what you read Threat Quality for!  Probably not!  Too bad!)

Today I would like to talk about this, a proposal for an award for SF storytelling, created by a guy named Jay Maynard, whom you probably (do not) know as “Tron Guy.” I do not think that this proposal, or the conflict that has engendered it, is particularly interesting or important in either the grand scheme of things or in the petit scheme of things, but puzzling over it has led me to some ideas that I have about the nature of criticism that I DO think are interesting, and so I’m going to write about it anyway.

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Hello, Friends of Threat Quality!  I know that I (Braak) recently said that there’d be more material coming on TQP as we tried to find some new approaches to it, and that REMAINS TRUE.  I’ve got a couple pieces in the pipeline/in preparation, they’re pretty interesting to me, maybe you will like them.

However, on Friday my wife had this baby, and it is being very demanding vis-a-vis the attention paid to it, which is disrupting our schedule a little bit.

Obviously, congratulations to me and my wife!  But also, please be patient while I get everything back up to speed!

ice cream

I’ve been watching Louis CK’s show on Netflix, because I don’t want to get sucked into something and my limit on Louie is about two episodes. I can’t binge on it for exactly the same reason can’t binge on Tequila: I usually know it’s too much before I actually start to get sick.

If you’re a woman, engaging willfully with the world of stand up comedy is like choosing to pick up a series of poisonous snakes. The most you can hope for is that it won’t bite you this time. Oh, this one isn’t so bad, OH GOD FUCK NO! One time I dozed off while listening to a Mike Bribiglia station on Pandora and woke up to Daniel Tosh. I can never unhear that shit, and I don’t mean that idiomatically, I mean that I will carry with me the information that I gleaned in the 15 seconds that it took me to stumble to the computer and shut it off for the rest of my life.

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