Memoirs of a Prostitute. She’s a Fucking Prostitute.
You know the most recent extremely popular movie rife with pandering and self-righteous entitlement bullshit that makes me fucking sick — otherwise known as a “Chick Flick”? It’s about an Asian prostitute living every woman’s dream of suffering the shame and indignity of being labeled a whore (for money and not for a house), but not actually having to fuck for her stripes.
Yea. Since you’re all men, I’m going to assume you haven’t seen Memoirs of a Geisha — just like I haven’t. That would be a huge loss of Man Points. My mother paraphrased it to me though.
Let me break it down for you thusly: Memoirs of a Geisha is about a hooker with a small peculiarity. She doesn’t hook. She just trains for it her whole fucking life but never gets down and dirty. It’s like watching Rocky on your friend’s piece of shit DVD player where it freezes at the second to last chapter every time. What a waste of an hour and a half.
Who was that guy who was talking about writing women so well and said, “I think of a man and take away reason and accountability”? Was it Jesus? Probably. It doesn’t matter though because it could just as well be any man who’s ever picked up a pen.
Men are better than women at writing about women. That’s because it’s easy as shit to write about women and men are good at easy things — just like we’re good at everything. To write about women, you just have to think of the most selfish and stupid thing that a character can do at any time and have them do it. Like in Citizen Kane, or Married with Children. Those women characters are absolutely fucking perfect and exactly how women behave. If any man ever needed inspiration to write about a woman, he just went to a toy store during Christmas, or gave a bum a charge card and drove him to a liquor store.
Women don’t know the first thing about writing about women. It’s like asking a person with no arms how to do jumping jacks. You’re a dick for doing it, and you’re going to get a no-assed job. That’s worse than a half-assed job. There’s less ass. The reason is that women are stuck right in the middle of their own whirlwind of horseshit. They can’t very well write about all their lame and predictable fuck ups when they have no idea how they keep getting themselves into them.
Stories and characters and writing about them need arcs and plots and character developments and such things. No woman has ever had a development. Women all think they’re perfect and go to the grave thinking it. That’s why they’re such fucking clown shoes at everything. If you want that, you have to open a man-story. Like anything with Clint Eastwood or Die Hard. Those have so much development you’ll be dizzy with it by the end.
Memoirs of a Geisha is a bunch of crap. Women love it because it’s how all of them want to live their lives. Thinking and talking about everything like it’s never going to happen; sitting on their ass all day; and then just lying there and getting fucked by their imagination when it comes time to pay the rent.
What a joke.
