Excuse the fuck out of me.
Some of us live in places where the only place you can buy comics is Barnes and Noble.
Some of us don’t like comics because of the decades of continuity, complicated multiple universes, and the fact that, while there is a huge amount of talent in the industry, there are countless comics that have been tainted by poor writing and artwork.
Some of us prefer films because it is more relevant to our interests.
Some of us don’t have the income or time to spare to enjoy comics.
You don’t need to have read the comics to appreciate or be a fan of a character.
This attitude of superiority from people who are “real fans” because they read the comics makes me rage so hard.
Maybe people would be more eager to read comics if comic fans were more inclusive.
The only difference between the girls - always ‘girls’ - of FHM and the women I meet in real life, is that real life is a lot more diverse. My friends have dimples, and freckles, and curvy bits, and complicated personalities; they make amusing facial expressions, and one has ginger hair. Qualities which are ruthlessly purged from FHM’s parade of near-identical Stepford wank subjects. Nobody I’ve ever seen really looks like Cheryl Cole, and that includes Cheryl Cole. Yet almost everybody in FHM’s list looks a bit like Cheryl Cole, with only minor variations allowed in age, breast size, body shape or even skin colour: it seems Beyonce marks the acceptable limit of darkness for black people. FHM have made sexy boring.
– Sexual correctness gone mad | Martin Robbins | Science | guardian.co.uk (via sexisnottheenemy) Via sex is not the enemy
“I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabalo.”
-Sylvia Plath
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