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5.17.01
Can I Please Have My 110 Minutes Back?
Disclaimer: Yes, I know movies are entertainment. Yes, I know they shouldn't be taken TOO seriously. But this sucker crossed the line.

Dear Makers Of "Miss Congeniality":

I just thought you like a REAL feminist opinion of your shitty movie, as a refreshing alternative to the misogynist assface who you hired to consult in the production.

Here's Ten Things I Hate About You.

1. Your implication, no, I'm sorry, INSISTENCE, that only the Sandra Bullock-lookin' chicks will ever "get the guy." No one wants THAT guy.

2. Your insistence that it takes hours of work and a team of specialists for a woman to be beautiful.

3. The lame-ass exchange between Bullock and Candace Bergen. Cripes, my bathroom sink is funnier than that.

4. Your pathetic and shallow portrayal of female-to-female relationships.

5. The way you constantly insulted men for an hour and a half. Men are capable of seeing and discussing something other than the appearance of all women in the near vicinity.

6. The way you portray a law enforcement officer's blatant and sickening abuse of power. It's like when the cops around here NEVER bother to use their turn signals - hypocritical and NOT funny.

7. Same scene - why is the only female officer the one responsible for fetching the coffee for the rest of the office? Just wondering.

8. The insistence that a woman has to be weak to be beautiful, and your persistent rejection of strong women from the start of the movie to the end.

9. I don't mind that your main character (Bullock) changes her mind about pageants. Uh, but why? I still can't figure that one out. Because the girls are nice? What the hell does that have to do with anything?

And...

10. That horrifying scene where they're trying to select a woman to go undercover as a pageant contestant. A group of officers, mostly men, sit around the computer using a bullshit computer program to undress photos of their fellow agents and see what they look like in swimsuits. As attractive women with average bodies are revealed to be, well, NORMAL-looking in a swimsuit (as opposed to model-type genetic freaks), the crown yells and groans at the image. God. Any ridiculous enjoyment I might have gleaned from this travesty of a film was immediately trashed by that scene.

Get a clue,

Jamie

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