Damn That Sexist, Winnie-the-Frickin’-Pooh

Okay. So, Dr. Janice McCabe, a sociologist at Florida State University, announced a startling and universe-shattering discovery this week: Children’s books are sexist, by which she means against girls. (And, I must say that the bozo who wrote the article about the kiddie-lit sexism should have to hand over his job to me immediately because he wrote, “Dr. Janice McCabe… examined nearly 6,000 children’s books between 1900 and 2000…,” by which he didn’t mean to insinuate that the doctoral-degree-holder is old as fuck. He meant that she read 6,000 books that were written between 1900 and 2000. Dumbass! Our language is in the toilet, people.)

So. Where was I? Oh. Yeah. Tomes for tots are heavy on the male characters and male/unspecified gender animals. For example, in A. A. Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh, everyone’s male except for Kanga. Girls are representin’ in only a third of the selected yarns for youngsters. McCabe claims that children learn in their tender years about gender from the books, cartoons, and movies to which they’re exposed—and that even in coloring books, even in 2011—males are the featured creature.

What can this revelation mean?! What if Christopher Robin had had a stash of Barbies to go with his boy toys? What if MacDonald had been an OLD lady? What if Thomas the Train and Bob the Builder had female co-workers? You know what? Chris would be considered homosexual, Old MacDonald’s farm would’ve had its taxes raised by the nasty carpetbaggers until the rent on Tara was so high…sorry. Wrong story, but same point. And the women in Thomas the Train and Bob the Builder would get paid half of what Thomas and Bob make for the same damned job.

Why should children’s literature reflect anything other than the real world? Shit. Even Hilary-who-I-still-think-is-Satan-in-a-super-fugly-mask was erased this week from a current newspaper photo of the Situation Room during the bin-Laden-liquidation because a not-tiny part of the fricking world still believes a woman has no business in a government leadership position.

We currently teach our children that a certain fashion doll can be an ASTRONAUT, but she better have really big rockets. I read Woman’s World magazine each week because I need at least one good solid belly laugh every seven days. You’d think there would be a female CEO or at least some estrogen on the five-member board. You’d be wrong. The reality is that men rule the world, and anyone who doesn’t believe it has obviously never read any damned children’s books. But I’m not sure that adding some extra girl-goats and she-bears to bedtime stories will tip the scales in vay-jay-jay favor. And really, wouldn’t it be too freaking creepy if Pat the Bunny featured a female? Ewwww.

To read the whole McCabe article (although why would you?): http://www.foxnews.com/us/2011/05/06/study-suggests-winnie-pooh-isnt-gender-equal-does-matter/#ixzz1LdDHDja9

Funny Girls Write Books.

Well. I’ve been KINDLING lately, and I don’t mean I’ve become firewood. Or that I’ve recently turned anyone on. I really should say “Kindle-ing” if I want to be accurate, since I’m talking about all the reading I’ve been doing on my Amazon Kindle. I’d toyed with getting one for awhile, and a few weeks ago I snagged a deal at Big Box. As soon as I plugged that puppy in, and whole books and magazines appeared in microseconds, I frothed at the mouth and scheduled some near-future rehab.

The first thing I did was order a whole slew of books penned by comediennes (women comedians for all your dumbshits). I’d been anticipating the arrival of Tina Fey’s Bossypants like a gaggle of gay teens pining for a Kurt-Blaine tongue wrestle. But because I had a couple of days before Bpants’s release, I quelled my desire with Kathy Griffin’s Official Book Club Selection: A Memoir According to Kathy Griffin and Chelsea Handler’s My Horizontal Life.

Kathy r-o-c-k-s. I laughed laaaaaate into the night reading her surprisingly sweet and intimate memoir; but I can say with unvarnished truth that Chelsea Handler’s book was so unfunny that I resent the fact that I cannot even use it as toilet paper if I run out. I want my fucking five dollars back, bitch. (Although perhaps the reality that it was five dollars should have been a clue to its suckassness.)

Tina Fey, now, is just as wicked as Kathy Griffin; but because her humor is a little more cerebral, and she’s selected a better class of friends, Tina isn’t on Oprah’s and David’s and every-damned-body’s shitlist. Hey. Both of those girls swear way more than I do, but nobody’s having a stroke about it. So be quiet, Daddy. (Who do you think taught me all those words anyway? Yeah. That’s right. Bathroom bitches at Parkwood Elementary. But you should have warned me about sixth-graders.)

My conclusion #1- If you’re looking for pee-in-your-panties fun, grad a box of Depends ® and a Griffin- or Fey-produced product.

My conclusion #2- The only upside to anything by Handler: If you need to lose a few pounds before an upcoming special event, read Handler’s shit, and you can puke up food you haven’t even eaten yet. Slimming.

My conclusion #3- If they can sell books, so can I. Go, girl writers.