Free the Bacon

Kevin Bacon is campaigning to get more cocks into movies. I cannot fact check this because I need to believe in a hope filled future in which all women can tell the difference between Liam Neeson’s venerable penis and Brad Pitt’s (probably way stumpier) one.

I believe decades of Hollywood breast shots have earned womankind a cock-filled future. Like Bacon, my motives for supporting this are entirely pure and feminist—basically, I want to stare at hawt men’s cocks while perusing Role Reboot and contemplating the current requirements of my vagina (all hail Naomi Woolfe.)

I’m not saying that it’s okay to sexually objectify male A-listers. Lord knows two wrongs don’t make a right. I’m merely suggesting that I’d like to appreciate A-listers as the sexual objects they are, which is completely different. To use a Hollywood metaphor, they are as different as the first two Hunger Games movies.

It’s my feminist stance that gender should not decide nudity. My clitoris should. Kevin Bacon has brought us the most innovative suggestion to hit Hollywood since that time they asked me to be Tom Hardy’s fluffer. Oh right. That didn’t happen.



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