Actually, the reaction to "50 Shades of Grey", because I haven't read on bit of the books. I picked it up at the store, thumbed to a point in the middle and read a few paragraphs. What I read left me so unimpressed that I put the book down and walked away. It's pr0n, plain and simple. And who gobbled it up?
Women. By the millions. And millions. Woman after woman bought and read all three books, and now they're making a movie out of it. Matt Walsh gives you 4 reasons to hate it, but I'm going to just sit back and watch the fur fly once this movie comes out. Hell, if I recall correctly there were shit-storms about the guy who they originally picked to play the "protagonist", and I'm using that word loosely.
The fact that "50 Shades of Grey" and it's sequels have made so much money and been so popular highlights some interesting facts about American women. They, the women who love these books, fantasize about being dominated by an amoral, one-dimentional sociopath. Which means that millions upon millions of women are proving my point that women love jackasses.
The movie is going to make a shit-ton of cash, because there are enough people in America who will enjoy seeing BDSM sex on the big screen. They won't be getting any of my money, but considering how often I (don't) go to the movies these days that's not really saying much.
But every time the cash register goes ka-CHING! I'll be smiling at the thought of all those self-righteous feminists paying to see what they claim to be their worst nightmare, even while their panties are getting sopping wet at the thought of a woman being tied up, whipped, beaten, abused verbally and emotionally, and then used as a sex toy.
Does that make me a bad person? Meh. I don't care
3 comments:
Worse, it was nothing more than BDSM fan-fic based on the Twilight series, even down to the point where the publisher had to force the author to change the names originally used for her lover's triangle -- Bella, Edward and Jacob.
I perused through the first book as it lay on my now-ex-wife's nightstand. I was singularly unimpressed. It read like a cross between a jr high school girls diary and a bad penthouse forumm letter, with roughly the same quality of writing.
Honestly didn't understand the appeal. Cheap, pulp chic porn.
Didn't read a lick of Twink-light, didn't read a damn bit of the Grey series outside of that one brief scan, and I can honestly say that my life is better for those facts.
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