Fuck Steve Harvey and the Cookie He Rode in On

Bizarro Post Indignation Bureau- Fuck Steve Harvey.

He's an insufferable asshole. He is an ever-flowing fountain of pseudo-intellectual bullshit.

Normally, I wouldn't dream of wasting the Indignation Bureau's considerable talent on the latest host of Family Feud. After all, it's the place where acting careers go just before vanishing into the aether, never to be seen again. It's like an elephant graveyard for supporting actors from successful sitcoms that ended years ago. When's the last time you saw Al from Home Improvement, or Elaine's boss from Seinfeld? Exactly.

 But he had to go and get a talk show, didn't he? Now there's a second season, and that's terrible. Here's why:

- I am honestly baffled that he managed to succeed as a professional comedian for 27 goddamn years. Steve takes milquetoast grandpa-isms and tries to shout them to life like Dr. Frankenstein on a cloudless night. While other comedians are scaling the cocaine-dusted crags of Mount Stand-up, Harvey is content to pace around at base-camp while his interns Photoshop him onto the summit. Here's an example of what passes for comedy on the Steve Harvey Show:

A woman stands up in the audience and asks Steve why her boyfriend insists on calling her "Bob" when her name is Ashley.

"Well, maybe it because you got something bobbing when you walk by, you know?" replies Harvey, palming two invisible asscheeks. "When you walk by, he's like BOP BOPPA DOO BOP BAH BOP BOP BOP!"

How's that for a big scoop of comedy oatmeal? Harvey starts with some casual sexual harassment, takes the word "Bob", determines that it rhymes with "Bop", and then he decides that belting out Little Richard is good for a cheap pop from the audience. Sure enough, he gets it. Rinse and repeat for episode after episode.

- So Steve wants to be a Christian entertainer? Alright, that's fine. All the best. But Steve, you want to have it both ways. You want to be able to telepathically palm the asses of your trusting audience members and paint yourself as T.D. Jakes. There's no law against doing that, but it makes you look like a tremendous tool.

Harvey, in especially saucy moments on his show, mops sweat from his brow while mumbling, "I sure am glad I'm a Christian right now, let me tell you folks." It's like his faith, which he barely seems to adhere to, is the only thing keeping him from going full Bob Filner.

- The Cookie.

To most people, it's a delicious baked good. To a certain Sesame Street character, it's a crippling addiction. To Steve Harvey, it's sex.

No, really.

If you're wondering why Steve is referring to a woman's body as an object, it's not an accidental window into his innermost psyche (for once). This is absolutely what he means. Harvey, projecting like a fucking I-Max, insists that all men are sexually insatiable creatures that are dominated entirely by barely restrained libidos. Therefore, all the smart ladies out there can use their bodies to manipulate men into serving their interests, since men would never, ever do something for a woman out of respect or love. In Steve-world, men are dogs, and women exist to serve as the dog biscuits that motivate them to sit, stay, and to stop humping everyone's leg. Men are consumers, women are merchandise; so a smart woman had better learn to haggle! See what I'm driving at here?

I suppose it's to be expected from a man with as many obvious issues as Steve. He's on his third marriage, and his first two wives aren't his biggest fans. As a matter of fact, Wife 2 is still insisting that Harvey cheated on her. I don't have any direct evidence of this, of course, but Steve's done absolutely fuck-all to convince me he's capable of the commitment necessary to form a lasting relationship. There's never any mention of friendship or love. Steve views the entire breadth of human romance as the conflict between the Sex Givers and the Sex Wanters.

Okay, Steve, you're a broken human being. We get it. I hope you fix that someday. But you wrote a goddamn book based on your warped concept of human interaction. People read that book and believed it. So fuck you very much for that.

Did I mention that Steve suggests a 90-day probationary period before giving your new boyfriend The Cookie? Because that's how relationships work on his home planet Asswipe 7, in the Sociopath Nebula.

"When I worked at Ford Motor Company, they have (sic) a probation (sic) period...[before they] release their benefit package to you. Why do women, who possess the greatest benefit of them all (Fuck. Off.), why [are] you passing on your benefits to a guy who has not been on the job for 90 days?"

A benefits package. There you fucking have it. A woman's body is a benefits package that you earn by, what, spending money on her for a period of no less than 90 days? And is she obligated to provide her "benefits" at the end of that period? I don't know if that's what he's suggesting, but I get this horrible sinking feeling that it's exactly what he means. No mention of marriage, naturally, so there goes his devotion to living a devout Christian life. What a goddamn shock.

Why doesn't Steve abstain? Why is it the woman's responsibility? Because he's never had to do it, he's never intended  to do it, and I wouldn't be surprised if he gets caught with his hand in the "cookie jar" once again. Devout Christian over here, everyone.

- A good talk show host knows how to work an emotional moment. Steve Harvey is not a good talk show host.

Occasionally, Steve will have a guest on his show that hasn't seen their mom or their daughter for a decade or so. He finds them, reunites them. It's Talk Show 101 stuff. So Steve brings out this estranged loved one, the two guests embrace and cry. Steve sits motionless in his chair, his mouth agape, his eyes vacant. Perhaps he's experiencing faint twinges of this "empathy" thing he's heard so much about. In any event, the weeping party is left to their own devices for about 90 seconds too long as the guy who's supposed to be hosting eventually tosses together some platitudes about God having a plan. Toss to break. Collect the paycheck.

And animals. Animal segments are required for talk shows by several international treaties, so it is with great reluctance that Harvey has on one of those guys with the khaki ensemble and pith helmet to play America's favorite talk show game: Will it Poop?

Nobody likes doing these segments, but they're at least polite about it. Conan O'Brien is especially good at playing off of his animal guests. Again, these are skills that a talk show host should have. Harvey spends every animal segment cringing away from every crocodile and parakeet that gets within 50 feet.

"You keep that thing away from me now, before I have to smack somebody," Harvey stutters as he's stared down by an elated Labrador puppy.

"Come on, Steve! It's fine!" says the visibly puzzled handler, desperately trying to push this stalling segment forward.

"No. I ain't getting anywhere near anything you're bringing out here."

He's trying to save the show that's named after you. Pet the damn sloth and move on with your life.

- I'll admit, I don't have the highest opinion of people who willingly go to a live taping of The Steve Harvey Show. However, my prejudices have been dashed time and time again by seeing the many instances in which audience members are clearly bored or disgusted by what they're witnessing.

My favorite moment of all time came when Steve was giving dating advice to an older woman who had a printed list of standards men had to meet before she'd date them. You see, most of this came from being horribly betrayed by men she had been involved with in the past. Anyone can see that she's hurting, and doesn't want to be hurt again. A smart person would build her shattered self-esteem and her bruised sense of confidence. Dr. Phil would be all over that shit. Steve hones in on item number one in the woman's list. Naturally, she wants a man who has never cheated on any previous partner. Sounds pretty reasonable to me!

"No!" gasps Harvey, as though he were chastising an infant who had just said a bad word. According to Steve, guru of love that he is, EVERY man has cheated in their early adult years! You can't seriously expect to find a man who has never cheated!

The camera pans to a sea of scowling women, some shaking their heads in quiet fury. Steve's reflexive attempt to keep the pillow pressed firmly over the face of his atrophied conscience had fooled no one. The chivalrous veneer crumbled more than enough for them to see that this poor woman who came to Steve Harvey for advice was being insulted because she held romantic partners to a standard that Steve had zero fucking interest in reaching.

On top of that, Harvey insists that men and women can never be friends. While I freely admit that I've seen many examples of men and women having secret romantic intentions with friends, to say that it is impossible is yet another example of Steve's warped beliefs on his gender. Specifically, all men are exactly like Steve Harvey. To think otherwise is just silly! You're just not dealing with home truths! And if he's right (God help us all), Steve Harvey must really hate Steve Harvey! Because I sure as shit do!

- But Steve doesn't hate himself half as much as he should. As a matter of fact, his ego is so far beyond acceptable that it's obscene (I know it when I see it). The Steve Harvey Tumblr account is filled to the brim with image macros of Steve Harvey quoting himself.

"Anyone who quotes themselves is a shitstreak on the jockey shorts of civilization." ----Me

You see, Steve is a man's man. He's a provider, an alpha male firmly in charge of his God-ordained destiny. His children have everything they'll ever need to succeed because of his efforts, and the women in his life get their alimony and Trophy Wife dues every month without fail. That just makes him a superior human! Hell, why not? The rich are already basically immune to the laws that bind puny mortals. Why not take it a step further and enshrine them as Godkings? Jesus quoted himself all the time! Guess that explains why a demigod like Steve feels no compunction about doing the same thing!

Oh, what's that, starving Ethiopians? You object to Harvey's rules of manhood because you live in an economically depressed country with no hope of ever being able to truly provide for your family? Well gosh, I guess you should just work harder if you want to become legitimate members of the human race!

What's that, millennial wage slaves? Can't afford to buy a house for you and your girlfriend, cash out of pocket? Well fuck you then, little boy! You don't deserve to be given your mandatory cookie ration with that can't-do attitude!

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When Steve Harvey wrote "Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man", he wrote it to "empower women" by explaining the mindset of all men, and how to manipulate it to their advantage. The thing is, it's really an instruction manual on how to avoid the kind of walking douchestorm that nobody should ever interact with for any reason. It's a glimpse into the dangerous psyche of a man who thinks wealth defines value for men, and genitals define value for women. It's Steve Harvey's hate letter to himself, and he didn't even realize it. Well this is my hate letter to you, Steve Harvey.

Fuck Steve Harvey.

Bizzarketplace of Ideas: Rejecting Male Literature

Anita Sylvanstra is a feminist blogger and involuntarily terminated barista with an Associates Degree in Transgendered Sculpture. Her current objective is to turn her blog into a full-time careeahahahahaha

The Year I Rejected Male CIS-liture

After being asked to abdicate yet another community college creative writing course for "plagiarizing the thesaurus", I found myself perusing perfectly typical literature by perfectly typical CIS-gendered authors. I first delved into the pages of Kafka's The Metamorphosis, though my reaction to his other works was an unadulterated clowncar of "meh." By the time I concluded the aforementioned novel, my inner Venus was alight with Genderfury (Copyright 2013, Sylvanstra Genderprises). Since when is transforming into an insect an excuse to foist your breadwinning role on your sister? You possess six hands on that thorax, sir, and only require two for standing. Methinks your productivity would increase four-fold. As my indignation blossomed, I pondered from whence this fury originated. Certainly, Metamorphosis is sexist, but so are other tomes beyond number, celluloid travesties, and every program produced by CBS. For what should I credit my rage, which confounds me like a rat in a cage? But then, an epiphany! Metamorphosis and every other book I had absorbed in 2013 were not self-same! Kafka was a man!

I had not connived to avoid men. It simply was. Reading women is one of the many great hazards a professional-level blogger has when challenging archaic notions of gender and culture. Spare me your sympathy. This is a burden that I have chosen to bear. The bulk of the femliture I purchased emerged from the sultry depths of the YA genre. I found myself enmeshed in a veritable cornucopia of feminine prose. Alas, when I at last emerged from this estrogen hotspring--my skin smelling of rosemary and jasmine--I found myself unfulfilled.

Should you turn on your television after eons of binge-watching television online, you might find your ears revolt at the sound of obnoxious commercials promoting the majesty of Geico Insurance by means of a cockney gecko. My journey was similar, but rather than being subjected to an irreverent CGI reptile, I found that every book penned by a man contained no women. Rather, I found male deficiencies molded into female form.

Clearly, I am unaccustomed to wielding the psyche of a male protagonist, and my ability to objectify women (as all men are known to do) was bedecked with rust. Thus, it was vexing to encounter scores of acclaimed men portraying the female mind in a manner that was inconsistent with my encounters in femliture. Verily, they appeared extraterrestrial in comparison. At last, I had broken free from the bondage of dead white men mansplaining to me! Oh, if only these poor fools had a guiding light in a brave Blog-Her such as myself!

As a highly capable student of the arts, my mind was unwittingly poisoned by the ichor spewing from the typewriters of charlatans. Hemingway and Pound spat on my embattled gender, and I delighted in their casual misogyny. Male authors were evaluated with lenience. For what were they but victims of their circumstances? The cultural zeitgeist had not yet moved! After rejecting the fascism of testosterone, I saw the folly in this reasoning. Even if these men were responsible for compelling works that transcend time in their relevance, it was obscene beyond all imagining that I was expected to know what it means to be a woman after reading novels from men who regarded us as second-class citizens (not that I let literature define every aspect of my life rather than evaluating it on its academic merits or cultural insights).

That is not to suggest women should avoid Kafka! Nay, perish the thought! But to expose them to this malicious assault on their gender prior to the latter years of college (everyone DOES go to college, right?) is simply a tragedy of the patriarchy. Exclusive access to femliture is what young women require. And not that gender-traitor BITCH Jane Austen with her lacy dresses and submissive ways! I merely mean that white male authors cannot accurately portray any character that isn't a white male themselves. Similarly, I resent the fantasy genre for permitting non-elves and non-direwolves to depict characters they could not possibly comprehend (for more on this, see my sister blog "Orcs are Beautiful Too"). After all, white males are not omniscient. That's not to imply that I am, but actually I'm not sure how I should continue this line of reasoning. Deep breath. New paragraph.

Forsooth! Envision young lasses that are confined to classrooms where teachers profess the glorious white male, who spits in the face of their femininity! Though there are contemporary male authors who are conscientious of their privilege, their numbers are few. Modern publishers greet the white male's manuscript with an enthusiasm they would dare not provide small-scale female writers like J.K. Rowling. Franz Kafka wrote a story about a family's young breadwinning son transforming into an insect, perhaps because on some level Kafka understood that he is vermin. Unworthy of his place in Her-story.

My tale of abstinence--be it from red meat, mirrors, showers, psychiatric medication, paying student loans, earning any income whatsoever, and sex--might imply that I have learned a lesson about consuming certain kinds of literature in moderation. Yet, my year without male writers or any positive human contact of any kind has made me ardent in my resolve to blog in support of female writers until my fingers are but scrambling spider's legs (only ten of them, not eight, although I don't know if my thumb counts because all it really does is hit the spacebar). Young women musn't be allowed to judge themselves through the white male lens. If they are to judge themselves by any metric, allow them to consider if they are attractive enough to woo a 120-year-old vampiric man who still hangs around high schools. Empower them with stories of child murder contests with love triangles! Regale them with explicit tales of bondage play! Only then will our gender find the literary freedom it deserves.

Texas Looks Back on a Successful Ladies' Night

BIZARRO AUSTIN, TX (BP)-The political elites of Bizarro Texas are thanking staffers and the public for a successful Ladies' Night at the Capitol, which was held on Friday night at the Texas State Capitol building.

"The attendance and enthusiasm far exceeded our expectations, but I think the fire marshal will let this one slide," joked Lt. Gov. David Dewhurst. "I'm proud that Texas has become a leader in empowering women to make their own medical decisions."

It all began when Bizarro Fort Worth Democrat Wendy Davis stood up before her colleagues and delivered an impassioned speech on the issues facing women in the past, and the women of today.Though she concluded her speech over a dozen times and yielded the floor, her fellow representatives were so  moved that they pleaded with her to continue. And continue she did--for nearly 13 hours.

"We had patriot (sic) in the Texas State Senate supporting TX women," Tweeted Republican Senator Bill Zedler.


That very night, in an unusual moment of unity, it was decided unanimously that a celebration would be held on July 12th.

Thousands of Texan women and their supporters packed the Capitol building, many with signs celebrating their elected representatives and their efforts. Troopers for Tampons set up booths to collect sanitary products for the local homeless shelters.

A State Trooper collects feminine hygiene products for charity. Also, sombody

seems to be confused about how Clif Bars are supposed to be used.

"We're not finished yet," said Governor Rick Perry, addressing the gathering via Skype. "Texas will continue to lead the way in women's rights. In fact, I plan to continue my advocacy after my final term as governor has ended."