It doesn’t have an editor’s name on the post, and the author, Edward Pasteck, doesn’t have any other articles, and the only result for him on Google, other than the article in question, is a cached Facebook page without a photo and with only two friends. Judging by the comments on the article, it was up earlier today, which means it was taken down sometime between the posting of the article at 12:21 today and when I started writing this post at 1:30. I’m calling bullshit on this. Edward Pasteck doesn’t exist, and it was somebody’s idea of either a sick joke or “a way of sparking a conversation.” Either way, I’m furious that one of the few spaces on the internet for women like me was invaded.
– Yeah. Namely, because this is one of the only Google results for “Edward Pasteck,” and it doesn’t have an “originally found at” tag like the other syndicated posts. So unless he’s sleeping with somebody or one of the editors has an adult son we don’t know about, he’s not a real dude.
If this is what we have to do to prove that “feminists have a sense of humor,” I’m going to go out to the liquor store and buy five jugs of whiskey so that I can humorously drink myself to fucking death. I know Jezebel is in a tricky editorial position, being one of the few corporate-backed blogs with a feminist reputation, and that in order to prove that they’re not all serious and party-line — like, say, YOU AND I — they have to do things like post lengthy, extended rape jokes in order to prank all those feminists on the Internet, who are going to get so upset! About the raping, and the jokes about it! And not see how clever this was!
Yeah. Good on you. Sisterhood, I hear it’s powerful. But your paycheck, and your rep as the blog that’s “feminist, but not TOO feminist, like feminists,” is apparently more powerful by some degrees.
I said it, and deleted it, but let’s say it again: WE ALL FUCK UP. I FUCK UP. YOU FUCK UP. But this? This was utterly, totally, unbelievably fucking avoidable. Whoever wrote it: You have my sympathies. I bet we’d get along. Or we would, if you weren’t so busy kicking the people who pioneered feminist internet networking and organizing, the people who created and proved the value of your audience, the people who read you, and the people you owe everything to, right square the fuck in the face.
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