American Pie, and Sexual Morality Plays

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I’m still feeling very low-energy, plus I’m frantically trying to catch up on the day-job and deadline work I’ve been putting to the side for the last couple of weeks. So today you get something from the archives. I worked a a film critic for years, and one of my favorite gigs was for the adult newspaper The Spectator, using movies as a jumping-off point for socio-sexual analysis of the culture. It was really fun — especially when my job was to analyze silly pop-culture fluff like American Pie. I hope to have a proper new post in the next day or two; in the meantime, enjoy!

Oh, BTW: I give away endings. So if you don’t want to know how American Pie turns out, you may want to skip this review.

American Pie

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Relax. This isn’t going to be another rant about juvenile sex humor. I’ve finally acquired some sort of Zen acceptance about the fact that I’m thirty-seven (well, I was when I wrote this), and movies marketed for seventeen-year-olds may just not appeal to me. And I’ve given up on that particular rant. (At least for this week. No promises for the future.) Yes, the movie does have that somewhat annoying trait of finding gut-wrenching humor in the very existence of sex and other bodily functions; it’s full of anxious, giggly jokes that essentially go, “Sex! Masturbation! Boobies! Toilets! Diarrhea!” upon which it falls all over itself in gales of uncontrolled hysteria. But it’s not mean-spirited about it for the most part; and if I’m going to be fair and honest, I do have to remember that I was once a teenager, awkward and anxious and uncomfortable about my body in general and sex very much in particular, and at age seventeen, I might well have found this movie a laff riot. Yes, I do get bored and irritated at comedy that finds its humor in the very existence of sex; but I’m in a generous mood at the moment, and am willing to acknowledge that not all art has to be aimed at me personally. So I’m not going to rail against it. This week.

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No, the odd thing is this. For all of its wall-to-wall sex talk, American Pie is actually something of a sexual morality play. It’s a raunchy, smutty, potty-mouthed sexual morality play, but it’s a morality play nevertheless. The point of the movie (other than “Titties! Jism! Vagina!”) seems to be that there are good reasons to have sex and bad reasons to have sex, and that the bad reasons will be punished while the good ones are rewarded.

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Come to think of it, that’s not the odd thing. Sexual morality plays aren’t an odd thing at all in the movies. I see them all the time. Heck, I rant and bitch about them all the time. What’s odd about this one is that I actually found myself agreeing with the moral. For all of its juvenile boobie-humor, I think the movie is pretty much dead-on right about what are good reasons and bad reasons to have sex. And although I do have general issues about the “What have we learned from this, class?” type of movie, I’m completely happy that the teenagers watching this particular movie are getting this particular lesson.

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American Pie, and Sexual Morality Plays
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Star Trek Meets Monty Python, or, The Geekiest Thing in the Universe This Week

Oh, my sweet Loki.

I am speechless.

It’s a montage of video clips from Star Trek (Original Series), arranged to the “Camelot” song from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

And I am embarassed to admit that it’s the funniest thing I’ve seen all week. Not to mention how embarassed I am to admit that I recognized almost every one of the clips. My geek badge of shame is shining brightly this week.

Video below the fold (since putting it above the fold mucks up my archives).

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Star Trek Meets Monty Python, or, The Geekiest Thing in the Universe This Week

Oscarology: The Readings

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The readings are in!

A quick recap, for those of you just joining us: Oscarology is a system of astrology I invented — excuse me, that was revealed to me in a powerful mystical experience — based on what movie won the Best Picture Oscar for the year you were born. I blogged about it a couple of days ago, asking for people’s birth years… and have been spending the time since then communing with the Spirit of the Oscars and transcribing the visions it has vouchsafed to me.

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First, to answer a burning question that has been asked: In Oscarology, your movie is the Best Picture that was released the year you were born. Not the one that was granted the award in the ceremony in the year you were born. (So John, if you were born in 1983, you are not a Gandhi. You are a Terms of Endearment. And Stacey, you’re not an Annie Hall — you’re a The Deer Hunter.)

FYI, some of these movies I haven’t seen, and am totally guessing based on the little I do know and what I looked up on Wikipedia. Unlike real astrologers…

So let’s get this started! And if you haven’t chimed in with your year yet, it’s not too late. Give me your birth year, and I’ll fill in the gaps. (Readings start after the jump.)

Continue reading “Oscarology: The Readings”

Oscarology: The Readings

Oscarology

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Years ago, I invented a system of astrology based on what movie won the Best Picture Oscar for the year you were born. (It’s more like Chinese astrology than Western astrology: you share your personality with an entire year’s worth of people, instead of just a month’s worth. But in Oscarology, the signs never repeat. Your year is special and unique.)

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The Skeptical Surfer recently asked me about Oscarology, and I realized I’ve never blogged about it. I’ve discussed it in more than one discussion group and bulletin board (my favorite response: someone asked me what had won for 1991 and 1992, and when I said it was “Silence of the Lambs” and “Unforgiven,” she replied, “No wonder the kids are so weird!”). But I’ve never mentioned it here.

So let’s play! Tell me what year you were born, and I’ll tell you all about your personality based on what won the Oscar for that year. (Assuming I’ve seen the movie, that is.)

I’ll get the ball rolling with my own reading.

Westsidestory
Birth year: 1961.
Best Picture: West Side Story.
Analysis: Although I tend to feel like an outsider in almost any group, I am very concerned with communicating and with making connections and forming bridges with/between people who seem unalterably opposed. Music and dancing are central to my life and identity. I have a somewhat tough exterior, but I dance like a big sissy boy and am as queer as a three-dollar bill.

So what’s your sign, baby?

Oh, and for the record: Astrology doesn’t work. It flat-out doesn’t work. There are many spiritual beliefs — such as the belief in God — that, while highly implausible, can’t be definitely disproven. Astrology is not one of them. It makes testable claims; the claims have been tested; the claims have been consistently and without a doubt shown not to work at all.

Just so we’re clear.

Oscarology

Atheism in Pop Culture Part 7: The Motherlode

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Ted Williams and Nina Hartley. David Cronenberg and Dave Barry. Brian Eno and Barry Manilow. Joss Whedon and Andy Rooney. Sarah Vowell and Ted Turner.

All atheists.

I’ve found the “atheism in pop culture” motherlode, people. It’s the Celebrity Atheist List, “an offbeat collection of notable individuals who have been public about their lack of belief in deities.”

And it’s hilarious.

It’s just such a fascinating mish-mosh. I’d be hard pressed to find any other characteristic that all these people have in common, apart from being carbon-based humanoid life forms.

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I mean — Barry Manilow?

Really?

And that’s what I like about it. It’s such a rich vein of counter-examples to the stereotype of atheists as sad, hopeless, amoral, unpatriotic, self-centered nihilists who only live for ourselves and only live for the moment.

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After all, are you really going to call Dave Barry sad and hopeless? Andy Rooney unpatriotic? Studs Terkel nihilistic? Salman Rushdie self-centered and amoral? Did Pat Tillman live only for himself? Does Barbara Ehrenreich live only for the moment?

Plus it’s just hilarious. I mean — Mickey Dolenz and Ingmar Bergman! Jean-Luc Godard and Ani DiFranco! Ray Romano and Marie Curie! Noam Chomsky and Bjork!

Hours of time-wasting fun. Check it out. And tell me who your favorites are!

Atheism in Pop Culture Part 7: The Motherlode

Dumbledore Is Gay: Good Guys and Literary Closets

Every single person I have ever met in my life has sent me this piece of news.

I wonder why. 🙂

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The news: J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter books (yes, I’m a fan, suck it up), announced recently that the headmaster character, Dumbledore, is gay. It came up at a recent reading at Carnegie Hall; a fan asked about Dumbledore’s love life, and Rowling answered, “My truthful answer to you… I always thought of Dumbledore as gay.” She went on to explain that Dumbledore had been in love with the wizard Grindelwald in his youth, and that Grindelwald turning out to be evil was the great tragedy of Dumbledore’s life.

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(As it turns out, the subject of Dumbledore’s sexual orientation had come up previously during the making of one of the movies; the director had some reference in the script to a girl in Dumbledore’s past, and Rowling had to pass him a note to gently point him off that track.)

I pretty much have just three things to say about this:

One: Neat.

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I think it’s cool that Dumbledore is the moral center of the book, the apotheosis of goodness, the one character that all the good guys look to for both political and ethical leadership.

And he’s gay.

That’s just nifty.

Two: I think it’s too bad she couldn’t have said so in the books themselves.

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Don’t get me wrong. I totally understand why she didn’t. If she’d made Dumbledore overtly gay in the books, then in the general public eye, that’s what the books would have been about. Everything else that the books are about — moral complexity, the realities of a resistance movement, what it’s like to be a child growing up and figuring out that the adult world is seriously messed-up, all the lovely and ridiculous magic stuff — would have become suddenly and dramatically secondary. It would have become the children’s book series about the wizarding school with the gay headmaster. It would have become the seven-volume fantasy version of “Heather Has Two Mommies.” I think it was the right decision, and if I’d been Rowling, I would have done exactly the same thing.

I just think that’s too bad.

I think it’s too bad that we live in a world where the mere presence of a major gay character in a children’s book automatically makes it a Kids’ Book About Gay.

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I think it’s too bad that I now have to wonder: How many other characters did Rowling envision as gay, but wasn’t able to say so? (My money’s on Draco…)

I think it’s too bad that the single most popular author in the known universe, the one author who could write her own ticket more than any author living today, still had to keep the gayness of one of her central characters a secret until the series was completed.

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It is better now than it used to be, forty years ago or even twenty. Imagine if L. Frank Baum had announced that Glinda the Good Witch was gay. Or Tolkein with Gandalf. Or Madeleine L’Engle with Mrs. Whatsit. There would have been a shitstorm. But it’s a different time now, and the people who are mostly going to be upset about Dumbledore are the fundies who aren’t buying the books anyway because they promote witchcraft.

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But I still think we have a long way to go. I still think it’s still too bad that a major children’s book can’t have a major gay character in it without that becoming the central defining feature of the book.

Maybe in twenty years.

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Three: Now I have to read the whole series again. Or the last book, anyway.

Damn. What a shame.

Snape
Oh, and P.S.: Snape.

No, I’m not saying he’s gay. I’m just saying: Snape. Because I am constitutionally incapable of writing an entire Harry Potter post without mentioning Snape.

Dumbledore Is Gay: Good Guys and Literary Closets

Why Religion Is Like Fanfic

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I was reading some unusually wacky Christian theology in Disinformation’s new book, Everything You Know About God Is Wrong (more on the book when I’m done with it — the thing is great, but it’s huge). Specifically: In the Middle Ages, there was all this theology about the immaculate conception virgin birth and how exactly Mary got impregnated by God, with several theologians putting forth the theory that — get this — the Holy Spirit impregnated Mary in her ear.

No, really. In her ear.

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What’s more, there’s other theology of the period seriously discussing the question of how, physically, Jesus was born. Did he just teleport out of Mary’s womb, or was he born out of her ear (since he was conceived there, after all), or what?

Because, after all, the pussy is a disgusting, putrid font of sin and evil, and God would never go there. Or be born out of there.

But I digress.

I was reading this, and I was suddenly struck with how familiar it all seemed.

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It reads exactly like fan-written blueprints for the Enterprise in “Star Trek.” Or fan-written explanations for discrepancies in star dates, or why the Enterprise has completely reliable lie detectors that they only use in three episodes.

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Why Religion Is Like Fanfic

The New “Zoo” Review

This piece originally appeared on the Blowfish Blog.

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The movie is about bestiality.

I want to tell you that right up front, since it takes a while for the movie to get around to it. A little more specifically, “Zoo” is a documentary about a 2005 incident in which a man died of a perforated colon after engaging in sexual activity with — read “getting fucked in the ass by” — a horse. And it’s about the small group of people — other zoophiles, or “zoos” — who shared these sexual activities and interests as a community: talking about it on the Internet, engaging in it at small gatherings, and sometimes photographing or filming it.

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The New “Zoo” Review

Professionalism = Selling Your Soul: A Feminist Rant on “The Devil Wears Prada”

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“The Devil Wears Prada” has been on HBO recently: I watched it again a few days ago (I do think it’s a funny, entertaining, well-crafted movie), and I was reminded of a feminist rant I had when the movie first came out.

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Here’s the deal. (Spoiler alert.) The purported arc of the movie is that our heroine, Andrea (Anne Hathaway), is a young would-be journalist in New York who can’t find the kind of serious work she wants, and thus takes a job as assistant to the editor-in-chief at the biggest fashion magazine in the country. She justifies this as (a) a source of a much-needed paycheck, and (b) an entry-level position that could earn her some experience and gain her some connections in the profession.

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But she sells out. She sells her soul. She is seduced by the glamour of the fashion industry into abandoning her high ideals; she prioritizes her work over her personal relationships; she stabs her colleague in the back; and she even winds up defending her abusive control-freak boss, Miranda (Meryl Streep) against her many critics. Eventually she realizes the error of her ways, walks out on her job, finds a better one, and grovels for forgiveness to everyone she injured along the way.

So here’s my problem with the movie:

I couldn’t see anything she did wrong.

I was watching very carefully the second time around, and almost every “soul-selling” step that the heroine took seemed perfectly reasonable and defensible.

And more to the point, just about everything she did would have been accepted without blinking in a male protagonist.

Let’s take it a piece at a time. Here are the sins against her soul that Andrea supposedly committed.

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1) She stayed in a job she didn’t much care about, in an industry that’s a snakepit of ego and ambition, working for a boss who treated her abysmally… just to get ahead in her career.

Well, yes. If you’re serious about a career, “take this job and shove it” isn’t always an option. Especially if you’re just starting out. Sometimes you have to put up with very bad situations temporarily, to get what you need on your resume (not to mention to keep the paychecks coming). And sometimes you start out at a company you don’t much like or care about, to gain experience you’ll need to eventually work for someone you do care about. That’s not selling your soul. That’s having long-term goals, and the stick-to-it-iveness to go through the necessary, if sometimes unpleasant, preliminary steps to get there. That’s being willing to prioritize your long-term goals over your immediate happiness and comfort. And theoretically, that’s a quality our society values.

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In men, anyway. This especially bugs me because her boyfriend, who’s super-critical of her choices throughout the movie, is an equally ambitious, young, struggling would-be chef… and it’s not like the world of high-end restaurants isn’t a snakepit of ego and ambition, in which people stick with crappy jobs and asshole bosses to get the experience and contacts they need. But somehow, that’s different.

And as it turns out, Andrea was right to do what she did. She did get useful experience and contacts, and at the end of the movie when she applies for the serious journalism job at the lefty newspaper, her recommendation from her old fashion-magazine boss is the tipping point that gets her the job. The job she cares about, and is good at, and that matters in the world.

But somehow, she was still selling her soul.

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2) She prioritized her job over her friends and her lover — including, sin of sins, skipping her boyfriend’s birthday party because of a work emergency.

Let me ask you this. Ingrid currently has a job that she loves — and it currently requires her to travel out of town two and a half days a week. This is a little hard on me, and puts some stress on our relationship. I also currently have a job I love (freelance writing) that currently requires me to spend weekends and evenings writing… time that would otherwise be part of the diminishing time we can spend together. This is a little hard on Ingrid, and puts some stress on our relationship.

Is either of us doing something terribly wrong?

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I don’t think so. I think we’re both doing exactly the right thing — supporting each other in our respective careers, making space for each other to do what we need to do, and making a point of savoring the time we do have together. That, in my mind, is what you do when you love someone. Obviously there’s a limit — if Ingrid’s job required her to move to Antarctica, I’d put my foot down — but especially when a situation is a temporary, experience-gaining or stopgap situation, cutting your partner some slack so they can get where they’re going in a career they care about is just part of being in a relationship.

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And, as Ingrid pointed out when I first shared this rant with her, “If you had a work emergency and had to skip my birthday party, I’d be disappointed, but I wouldn’t think you’d done anything horribly wrong.” Thinking that a birthday party is the most important thing in the world… that’s not what sane adults do. (In fact, Andrea stayed at the emergency work event only as long as she needed to fulfill the requirements of her job, and when given the chance to stay longer to fulfill her own personal ambitions, she cut out and went home to be with her boyfriend.)

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But women aren’t supposed to think like this. Nobody blinks an eye when men have to work late or miss special personal events for job emergencies… but women are supposed to be loving and emotional and think family and love are always, always, always more important than work. Andrea was making a difficult but reasonable decision… but somehow, she was still selling her soul.

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3) She got sucked into the world of fashion — a world she didn’t care beans about before she took the job.

Yes. Interestingly enough, when you take a new job in a field you’re not familiar with, you often get excited about it and drawn into it. For fuck’s sake, that’s one of the best things about taking a job in a field you’re not familiar with. You learn new things. You expand your horizons. I didn’t know that much about women’s health care before my job at the Feminist Women’s Health Center; or about gay politics before my job at the gay newspaper; or hell, about the music industry before my crappy job at Ticketmaster. I grew to know and care about these things more because of these jobs. That doesn’t make me a sell-out. That makes me an open-minded person who’s eager to learn.

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You can argue that fashion is a vapid, trivial thing to care about. But you can also argue, as many characters in the movie do, that fashion is an art form, one that touches everyone’s life. Nobody thinks Hank Hill of “King of the Hill” is a sellout because he’s grown to care passionately about propane and propane accessories… but when Andrea grows to see that fashion isn’t as vapid and trivial as she’d originally thought, somehow it means she was selling her soul.

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4) She stabbed her friend and colleague in the back.

Now, this is an interesting one. Andrea’s most serious sin, in her mind and everyone else’s, is that, when Miranda told her that she would be going on a coveted trip to Paris instead of her fellow assistant Emily (Emily Blunt), her initial reaction was to say, “I can’t do that, the Paris trip means too much to Emily.” But when Miranda made it clear that refusing the Paris trip would mean risking not only her job, but her chance at a recommendation and her career prospects (I believe her words were, “I’ll assume you’re not serious about your career, here or anywhere else”), Andrea caves and accepts.

In other words:

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Her boss decides (somewhat unreasonably, but not entirely so) that Andrea is a better and more capable choice for the Paris trip than Emily. Her boss offers her the assignment. She accepts it.

And this is bad because…?

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That’s what the working world is like. If you’re a boss, you don’t offer assignments based on how much it means to your employees. You offer assignments based on who you think the best person for the assignment will be. And if you’re an employee, you don’t refuse assignments because taking them would hurt someone’s feelings. It’s not like the dating world — it’s not rude or bad to take the job your friend is hot for.

It’s not like Andrea connived and schemed for the trip. It’s not like she tried to undercut Emily or make her look bad so she could get the trip. In fact, she tried to turn the trip down, and she tried to give it to Emily.

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But in the end, she acted like a professional. She treated her job like a job, not like a social relationship. She accepted an assignment that her boss offered her, an assignment her boss decided she was better suited to than her colleague — and this, in her own eyes and in everybody else’s, makes her a selfish, backstabbing power-slut. Nobody would blink twice if a man did exactly the same thing — but for Andrea, somehow it means she was selling her soul.

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5) She began to have understanding and sympathy for her abusive, control-freak boss.

My very, very favorite line in the movie — and one that I think sums up in a nutshell the movie’s real message — is when Andrea says to a fellow writer (I’m paraphrasing here), “If a man acted the way Miranda does, nobody would say anything at all except what a great job he does.”

Yup.

That pretty much says it all.

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I think Andrea’s character arc when it comes to Miranda is 100% reasonable. She starts out hating and fearing her; she grows to have some respect and compassion for her; and in the end, she decides that the compromises Miranda has made (personal and ethical) aren’t compromises she would be willing to make.

But somehow, the fact that she ever had respect for Miranda’s professionalism, and compassion for the pain that her sacrifices caused her… somehow, that means she was selling her soul.

*****

Hpandphilosophy
There’s an essay I read in “Harry Potter and Philosophy,” arguing that ambition (the defining quality of the Slytherin house) is, in fact, a virtue. And I would agree. Like most virtues, taken to extremes it can become a vice… but the willingness to focus on long-term professional goals, and to work hard and make sacrifices to reach them, is definitely a virtue. And it’s a virtue that our society generally values quite highly.

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But not in women. In women, ambition — being willing to put up with shit to get where you want to go, sometimes prioritizing your career over your personal life, becoming engaged with a job even though it’s ultimately not what you care about most, treating it like a job instead of a slumber party, having respect for successful high-achievers in your field, and generally taking your career seriously — isn’t considered a virtue at all.

In fact, it’s more than just not a virtue. It means that you’re selling your soul.

Professionalism = Selling Your Soul: A Feminist Rant on “The Devil Wears Prada”