[This is the first in a new Blogtown series "My Least Favorite Piece of Misogyny This Week," by local comedian Barbara Holm. You can catch Barbara live at tonight's benefit for Planned Parenthood at the Jack London.]
My least favorite piece of misogyny this week is everything going on with Chris Brown and his new song. Why is Chris Brown still allowed to make things? Can't someone put a condom on his metaphorical implement of creation? Gross. It's been another week of antifeminist debauchery for the slimy miscreant.
Chris Brown is famous first and foremost for beating up his girlfriend, Rihanna. Second, he is known for making a video giving men advice about how to keep their girlfriends in line. (Spoiler: it wasn't with cookies and scavenger hunts!) Third, he is known as some sort of musical artist, I guess. And finally, as the thing crows ominously circle against a dark grey horizon while puddle of mud plays. Not the band—the sound of a puddle of mud. Because that would sound gross.
Chris Brown released a new song this week and it got retweeted by millions of his fans. The fact that Chris Brown still has fans is like innocent children willingly asking the Sorting Hat to be put into Slytherin. It's like, holy crap, what happened to you to make you attracted to this evil entity? The song itself is widely thought to be a tragic unrequited love song about Rihanna, but it wears that suit like four heyenas atop each others' shoulders in a trench coat. You don't get to write sappy Ben Gibbard-esque songs about heartbreak if you embody everything that ruins love in the world. Actually, even Ben Gibbard is getting too handsome to write those songs now.
The lyrics go: "Don’t let this shit come between us." Rihanna, buddy: Let it come between you. Let lots of things come between you—like an ocean, walls, a big guard in a knight suit with a light saber, and a restraining order. "Girl if you love me better prove it." Rihanna, if you love him, you better go to therapy. "I can’t win, I can’t win for losing/ Don't even matter if you screamin’ yeah." What? Wait. What? "Tell me what did I do to make you hate me so much." I can't tell everyone what Chris Brown HASN'T done to make us hate him so much. I think everyone should be hating him a lot more. I think it would feel good to embrace the hate, like a warm bath with bubbles.
Okay, folks, ladies, gentlemen, babies, kitty cats, do not buy Chris Brown's new album. (Also, yes, I keep referring to him by his full name because I refuse to develop any sense of familiarity.) Don't listen to his song! This has been my least favorite piece of misogyny this week. Tune in next week to find out if our stumbling young heroes can make the jump in the getaway car!