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Famed, self-proclaimed “feminist lawyer” Gloria Allred has accomplished some bold and fascinating things during her long, high-profile career. She sued the Boy Scouts for excluding girls. She repped Nicole Brown Simpson’s family in the O.J. Simpson murder trial. In ’04, she filed the first lawsuit in California challenging the denial of marriage licenses as being unconstitutional.
But Allred also represents Tiger’s classiest mistress, Rachel Uchitel, and helped her nab $10 million to keep her trap shut about her sexy times with the year’s most famous philanderer. She took on client Josyln James, the porn star who’s been peddling her dirty wares alongside an online log of Tiger’s banausic sexts, and seeks an apology for James’s… time?
The attorney now stands alongside a new money-grubbing fame-seeking apology-seeking bandwagoneer: Woods’s kindergarten teacher, Maureen Decker. Decker feels wronged by a story that first appeared in Charles Barkley’s book The Wicked Game, which was published in 2005–and after five years realized that Tiger Woods was wrapped in a shit spiral and ladies everywhere could cash in if they played their cards right she couldn’t take the “migraines, elevated blood pressure, and colitis” for one more day, sought Allred’s inparticular counsel, and went public with her beef.
Does simply signing clients with vaginas make one a feminist? Because we kinda think that a truly pro-fem lawyer would have been the one working to secure Elin Nordegren’s future and due financial security. Instead, she’s taking a percentage of victories for women who feel they are owed something for spreading their legs and screwing somebody else’s husband. Ah, what a powerful message: “If I fuck you, you better take care of me.”
Filed under: 15 Minutes of Fame, Bad Examples, Elin Nordegren, Fame Whores, Feminism is Dead, Feminists, firsts, Glorie Allred, I Call Bullshit, Lawsuits, Mistresses, Money-Grubbers, Rachel Uchitel, Striking While The Iron Is Hot, Tiger Woods, Tiger Woods Affair, Tiger Woods Affairs, Tiger Woods Sex Scandal, Ugh
We’ve talked in the past about how we’re not exactly fans of the “F” word: feminist. It’s a term that carries a lot of baggage, sounds outmoded, and, after 100 years of usage and abusage, just may be beyond reinvention at this point. Fortunately, our pal, Erica Kennedy (Bling), has discovered a workaround in the word “FEMINISTA”–and y’all know how made-up words are our reason for being–which also happens to be the title of her new book. FEMINISTA tells the story of tough, chic celebrity journalist Sydney Zamora who decides one day, as she’s staring down the barrel of her mid-thirties, that she needs to “have it all” and find a worthy partner. (As you can imagine, complications ensue.)
We were lucky to have a virtual sit-down with Erica recently and talk more about our new favorite “F” word:
What is a FEMINISTA? How did you come up with that?
FEMINISTA is my word for the empowered woman of style. It’s about the duality of being a woman today. We’re strong and supple. We’re ambitious and nurturing. We can be smart and sexy. We’re not trying to “have it all”, we’re trying to balance whatever our all is.
I actually came across the word when I was reading Lipstick Jungle, Candace Bushnell’s novel, and I realized it fit this idea of duality that I was already thinking about. When people hear the word “feminist” they think of a strong woman and any “-ista” coinage makes us think of a fashionable woman. FEMINISTA is a meld of those two things: the empowered woman who MIGHT want a career and a partner and babies and cute shoes that show off her pretty pink toenails – maybe all at once, maybe not at all. FEMINISTA is about defining ourselves.
Publisher’s Weekly called you the “pioneer of bitch lit.” How do you feel about that tag?
Feminists in Germany are upset about it, with one saying, “It is an absolute insult to women that this has been invented.”
But, ladies. Let’s think this one through:
Girl dumps Boy.
Boy wants revenge.
Boy calls up Girl, says, “Can we talk?”
Girl goes over to Boy’s house.
Instead of talking, Boy proposes that he and Girl go for a swim/take a hot tub.
Girl agrees, because swimming/taking a hot tub with her ex is so much less awkward than talking.
Boy offers Girl a bikini.
Girl puts on the bikini, because there is nothing strange about her ex suddenly offering her a bikini.
Because Girl doesn’t care where that bikini might have been.
And Girl doesn’t care about donning a random bikini that might not fit or might not be flattering, because Girls aren’t obsessively particular about how they look in a bikini.
And Girl knows that thong bikinis, in particular, are not only for hot Brazilians, hot supermodels, or hot Brazilian supermodels.
And because it’s not a red flag for Girl to put on a bikini that was just laying around her ex’s house, as Boys always keep extra bikinis around their places, just like they keep tampons and Midol in their bathrooms.
Because Girl, who–let’s remember–dumped Boy, wants nothing more than to strut around in a bikini in front of her ex, a thong bikini no less, just like she wants nothing more than to blow him all night long.
Girl gets into pool/hot tub with Boy.
Girl’s borrowed bikini dissolves in the water.
Boy laughs–Oh, Sweet Revenge!
Girl, who, to wit, has already put on a random bikini her ex had laying around the house, pranced around in a thong that rode up her crack and that she never worried made her ass look fat, got into a pool/hot tub with Boy she dumped who has seen her naked a zillion times, suddenly becomes shy and Victorian and is abjectly humiliated.
Boy marvels at his ingenious plan.
The way I see it, if revenge-seeking misogynists are this dumbass, women really have nothing to worry about.
Check out how the dissolving bikini works here.
Pro-woman scholar (we try not to use the “f” word, as in f*minist, here at DISGRASIAN) Naomi Wolf penned an essay for this month’s issue of Harper’s Bazaar, stating her case for why Angelina Jolie’s life is not only intriguing but admirable (and, um, pro-woman), her sphere of influence so very big and round.
Immediately after the article surfaced, scattered voices across the Interwebz snorted and scoffed. Jezebel, whose writers were shamed by Wolf after making asses of themselves on Lizz Winstead’s TV show, responded, predictably, very flatly. But perhaps that’s because Angie doesn’t inebriate as much as she did in her twenties, and only appears to fuck one person at the moment (how conventional!).
However, Double XX also found Wolf’s commentary absurd. The Washington Post‘s Liz Kelly found that the evaluation was downright anti-f*minist. And the celebrity blogs seemed to all share one snarky, repulsed, collective sniff.
So here I am, sitting quietly behind my laptop at DISGRASIAN HQ, wondering why I seem to be the only person that didn’t have that negative reaction. Am I some kind of sucker? Am I, like all those average girls, desperately in lust with Jolie’s pillow lips? And so ignorant of the world’s goings-on that I think she’s also some kind of brilliant saint (Wow, what’s Darfur!?)? Am I just soooo wishing that I was playing house with Brad Pitt? Do I secretly want to be really skinny with veiny alien forearms and big ol’ lady cans?
I don’t have a problem with Angie. I like her. I have seen her present some twisted, brilliant performances (Hello, Girl Interrupted!) and some incredibly fun ones (Gear-shifting in Gone in Sixty Seconds? Bending bullets in Wanted? Come on!). I appreciate the fact that she’s gone from Hollywood bebe to angry tween to escapist user to beautiful freak to self-taught scholar to loving mom, all seemingly without a life coach. I feel like she’s gone through some fucked-up shit, and she’s found the very best way to hold it together–which is to focus (even to the point of vomit) on improving the world she lives in.
Listen: from my experience, I don’t expect a lot from actors (or celebrities in general), save for they be really crazy, entirely full of themselves, convinced that they’re funny, dripping with bad house-decorating taste, and mostly intolerable to be around. If they do anything beyond that, like READ A BOOK, or do U.N. Ambassador work, I’m duly impressed.
Okay, okay. Let’s be real. Look at these cute fuckin’ kids:
Hey, here’s a first: Pakistan President Zardari has accomplished what no other person has ever done in the history of all mankind–he’s united Muslim clerics AND Pakistani feminists, together in condemnation of his icky behavior during a recent meeting with VP wannabe Sarah Palin, which demonstrated that the days of Pervezes ruling Pakistan are not yet over. Despite his unprecedented achievement, Zardari still incurred a fatwa. Poor guy!
It has yet to be confirmed whether a second fatwa has been issued against THAT GRODY MUSTACHE. And while no violence has been called for in the fatwa, Zardari, his face pubes, and his easily excitable weiner are reportedly laying low while all this, ah, blows over.