While I recognize that this is a very prestigious publication so I should probably start acting like a serious adult human writer, I also think it is important to note that every time I look at that headline I hear Zoolander’s voice in my head saying “EARTH TO MATILDA”.
theatlantic:

Earth to Hollywood: People Will Pay to See a Female superhero Film

After 72 years as a leader among superheroes in the DC Comics universe, Wonder Woman is finally going to be in a movie. Someone else’s movie. This week, Warner Brothers announced that Gal Gadot will don the heroine’s bulletproof bracelets in Batman vs. Superman. 
While it’s nice that Wonder Woman’s screen debut has arrived, it’s disappointing that it’s only as a sidekick: As Noah Berlatsky wrote here at The Atlantic on Thursday, Wonder Woman was originally meant to replace Superman, not back him up. Why not give her, or any other female superhero for that matter, her own film? Conventional wisdom dictates that Hollywood just doesn’t think it would make money. The twin flops of Halle Berry’s shoddy Catwoman film in 2004 and the ill-advised 2005 Daredevil spinoff, Elektra, are often invoked as a warning that films where the tights-wearing, crime-fighting protagonist is a woman are doomed to failure.
But times have changed and the conventional wisdom no longer applies, if it ever did. In the wake of the $580 million box-office haul for Catching Fire, the Hunger Games sequel starring Jennifer Lawrence, the economic case for the viability of a woman superhero in a starring role makes it look like a slam dunk. Here’s why.
Read more. [Image: Lionsgate / Murray Close]

While I recognize that this is a very prestigious publication so I should probably start acting like a serious adult human writer, I also think it is important to note that every time I look at that headline I hear Zoolander’s voice in my head saying “EARTH TO MATILDA”.

theatlantic:

Earth to Hollywood: People Will Pay to See a Female superhero Film

After 72 years as a leader among superheroes in the DC Comics universe, Wonder Woman is finally going to be in a movie. Someone else’s movie. This week, Warner Brothers announced that Gal Gadot will don the heroine’s bulletproof bracelets in Batman vs. Superman

While it’s nice that Wonder Woman’s screen debut has arrived, it’s disappointing that it’s only as a sidekick: As Noah Berlatsky wrote here at The Atlantic on Thursday, Wonder Woman was originally meant to replace Superman, not back him up. Why not give her, or any other female superhero for that matter, her own film? Conventional wisdom dictates that Hollywood just doesn’t think it would make money. The twin flops of Halle Berry’s shoddy Catwoman film in 2004 and the ill-advised 2005 Daredevil spinoff, Elektra, are often invoked as a warning that films where the tights-wearing, crime-fighting protagonist is a woman are doomed to failure.

But times have changed and the conventional wisdom no longer applies, if it ever did. In the wake of the $580 million box-office haul for Catching Fire, the Hunger Games sequel starring Jennifer Lawrence, the economic case for the viability of a woman superhero in a starring role makes it look like a slam dunk. Here’s why.

Read more. [Image: Lionsgate / Murray Close]



Demons

On the F train today, I listened to a middle-aged man in a tan raincoat talk for twenty minutes, because I thought eventually he would have to run out of opinions.  His touched his carefully trimmed mustache a lot as he talked.  He looked like someone’s dad.  He had opinions about the eternal soul, and he had opinions about who ought to be accepted as one’s savior, and he had opinions about sin.  He had opinions about the sinfulness of both the world in general and this subway car full of quiet people reading in particular.

These opinions weren’t very unusual.  Lots of people have them, and tell them to you while calling you “mybrothersandsisters”.  I was educated by some of them.  I don’t mind when people tell you, as this man did, that they love and respect all of God’s creation.  But when they tell you this fact between examples of what or whom among God’s creation they don’t think deserve it, that’s another thing.

This man got specific very quickly, as he started to discuss his opinions of what God’s opinions are.  For example, about homosexuality.  And “dark-skinned blacks, not my light-skinned black brothersandsisters” (the man was black, if you’re curious, but I’m not sure if that makes it less of a bad thing to say or worse.  Or the same).  And Jewish people.  He had a lot of opinions about Jewish people and why their history of persecution was what they deserved.  An old man dressed in the Orthodox tradition, sitting silently with his head bowed, swallowed, but did not look up.  Interesting how the guy who was supposed to be such a menace to the soul of our city was not the one currently bothering everyone.  I thought about saying something to the man with the opinions, in defense of this man who was bothering no one, but I thought that if the man with the opinions felt such a deep entitlement to press them upon a captive audience of unexcited strangers, no mere opinion of mine could mean much in the face of that certainty.  And would there be something appropriative and boorish about calling him out for talking about black people, Jewish people, and gay people, when I was none of those things and there were black people and the Orthodox man sitting in the car who had chosen not to engage him?  I hated that no one stood up to him, and I felt ashamed that I lacked the certainty to do it myself.  I didn’t like the idea that everyone in the car, by staying silent, was agreeing on some level that this speech was acceptable.     

But then he started talking about women.  And I could do more than have just an opinion about women.  I was qualified to serve as an example, because I am one.  

This man talked about women who talk too much.  Women who think they have a right to voice an opinion because they forget that they were created second. Women who forget that every month their blood is a (kind of passive-aggressive) punishment from God for the sin inherent in being descendants of Eve.  

Last month, I said, “I hope having a kid one day is worth all this.  I’ve spent a fortune on Tylenol.”  La-dee-da, the things we do for creation.  Oh, creation!  You love that, right?

He said that women in this city were foul and should know that they are sinful and base and DISGUSTING.  

A lot of women I know spend a lot of time worrying that someone will call them disgusting sometime.  Too many.  I know I do.  But not by this guy.  If I’m disgusting, it’s not because this guy says so.  Not this smug man who thinks he’s entitled to tell everyone what God thinks of them.  I think I am entitled to nothing, except perhaps the right not to be subject to the entitlement of others.  So I said aloud, definitely a little more loudly than I intended:

"So, love and respect for God’s creation, sure, but  … not women?”

He looked at me like a frog had just spoken to him.  I saw the whites of his eyes.  He literally trembled with rage.  I thought maybe I had made a mistake.  ”I love and respect all of God’s creation.  I just CALL OUT THE DEMONS WHEN I SEE THEM.”

The moment he said the word “demons”, any nagging fear or thoughts that he was too unhinged for this to mean anything fell by the wayside, because it was such a dramatic and medieval idea I couldn’t believe he was saying it seriously.  Plus I was right in the middle of rereading Good Omens. “So … women … are demons, then?”

"Yes." He said, proudly.  

"And therefore God created … demons?"

"Well -"

“Well, Lucifer was a fallen angel, I know, so I see where you’re coming from.  Although, in terms of your theology, if God cre-“

"-IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE THE POWER OF GOD CAN CAUSE THIS WORLD TO VANISH."  

He had turned away so that he could keep talking without looking at me.  He wasn’t so sure of himself anymore.  

"Okay, then." I was glad that at least he hadn’t gone through his day spewing vitriol without anyone telling him it wasn’t okay. I felt a flash of victory, but I wished the train doors had opened at a station just then so I could make an exit.  Instead I just stayed sitting there for a few minutes as he went on and on and on.  I deflated  slightly as I noticed, with a twinge of surprise and maybe hurt, that no one else in the car met my eye either. Maybe I had been too self-righteous. 

When we pulled into the station, I briskly took my two heavy bags and walked out the doors, then back in the doors of the next car.  Maybe I should have gotten off the train.  Never in my life had I ever wished more that I had a tail.  A demon tail.


Learning

Used my college degree really effectively at work today! When tasked with hurling a heavy garbage bag into a high dumpster during hour 10, I motivationally shouted “my LIFE” to myself as I let fly.  The bag missed and thudded to the ground.  And from college, I know that’s symbolism.  


An Open Letter To Tilda Swinton, Noted Box Inhabitant

Tilda

Dear Tilda Swinton,

In the future, I would really appreciate if you could give me some notice when you’re going to appear in a box in my presence.  Today in the Museum of Modern Art, I was minding my own business when suddenly I was confronted with a glass box containing you.  Needless to say, I was unprepared.  I would consider it a courtesy if you would kindly address the following concerns:

  • Are you going to appear in a box at other places I go?  If so, would you please call ahead first? 
  • Are all boxes that I come across now going to contain tough yet ethereal actresses?  Will I find Glenn Close nestled in my Cheerios?  Cate Blanchett in my aquarium?  Is this my life now?
  • How exactly did this arrangement with MOMA go down?  

TILDA: Hello, this is Tilda Swinton.  I’d like to sleep in a box in your lobby.

MUSEUM OFFICIAL:  Hmmm, well, we were planning to have Edie Falco come in and doze in a basket this week-

TILDA: Well, I was planning not to bring eternal winter to this land, but-

MUSEUM OFFICIAL: You know what? Come on over.  

  • On second thought, do you have to do this thing because you lost a drinking game to Bill Murray on the set of Moonrise Kingdom?
  • What are you paying per month for that box, if you don’t mind my asking?  My lease is up soon.
  • Would you be insulted if I told you that this whole setup reminded me of a guinea pig at an elementary school?  Not in a bad way!  It’s just, you’re in this glass tank and everyone’s whispering, “Awww, it’s Tilda Swinton!  Look, she’s sleeping!”
  • When you have a minute, could you give me some pointers on napping attractively?  I am one hundred percent sure that I do not look radiant and otherworldly when I nap, and you have clearly mastered this skill.    
  • Do you need anything?  Like a little tunnel, or a wheel?  But seriously, if you want my Netflix password or anything, don’t hesitate to ask.  You know, even just someone to talk to.
  • Did you thank the security guard who had to stand on the stairs and try to stop people from taking pictures of you?  He was very polite.  However, did you consider that if you would like to avoid photographers, perhaps you should sleep somewhere that is not a clear box in a public place?     
  • Are you trying to look like you’re made of wax on purpose so passerby will think you’re not real and then be startled when they notice you breathing?  If so, why are you so mean?  If not, then where did your pores go? Have you ever had a zit as long as you’ve lived?  Have you lived forever?

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Fondly, 

Kathryn Funkhouser



I regretfully present a limerick about Community

I WANTED TO LIKE IT

an elegy in limerick


We hold hope when each episode’s theme song starts

Annie’s Boobs runs through vents in our jaded hearts

It’s like watching a saint fall

From heights of sweet paintball

Now no more than leftover sitcom parts



(Coda: I do, however, have a deeper appreciation of the subtlety and craft of Dan Harmon and the original Community writing staff’s work now that the alternative has been presented.  I hope they go on to great things!  The same goes for the actors - they are wonderful, but are currently being underserved by subpar material.  I hope they all get to work on great projects soon as well.)



Some people write sitting at a desk, some standing at one; I write lying down on a couch (except when I’m at the piano), for the obvious reason that it allows me to fall asleep whenever I encounter difficulties, which is often.
Stephen Sondheim, Finishing the Hat (via fuckyeahsondheim)