By the Virgin Mary

Humanity, we need to talk about virgin-shaming.

So many entities are hurt by our callous tendency to call out others’ lack of sexual experience—me, Virgin America, the Virgin Islands, Virgin Mobile. Even olive oil is labeled as extra-virgin. How insensitive! What olive oil does or does not do in the bedroom is olive oil’s business.

By Your CS50 Pset

By the White Guy at The Kong

Back in the day, the establishment where I now willingly spend my twilight years was a lawless land where underage drinking reigned supreme. It was mayhem. I was brought on to usher in a new age of order and control at the Kong. That is why I don’t care if you’re 35 with children: you’re not getting a drink. 

By a Powerful Male Celebrity

I must start off this statement by mentioning that I am sad and angry. Everyone is sad and angry, but not as sad and angry as me, a powerful man who has never had to worry about jeopardizing his career by resisting the advances of a powerful sexual predator. I felt absolutely sick when I read the allegations this morning. My head was spinning, and I even vomited in the sink a little. Then I remembered that I forgot to take my daily Excedrin, and everything was better — just not for the dozens of women whose lives have been permanently ruined.

By Woody Allen

It’s me, Woody Allen. I’m that director who makes you uncomfortable because you love my movies but you don’t love that I’m basically married to my daughter. Just wanted to chime in!

When I heard that there was a famous sexual predator in Hollywood, I was like, “Hey, you know who should opine? Me. It would definitely be a good idea if I, Woody Allen, gave my two cents about this. That makes utter and complete sense. This is a sane decision.” 

By an El Jefe’s Cashier

Well, well, well. Look who’s back. Here you come, marching over to me, smiling like we’ve never met before, and—oh, what’s that you’re saying? You want to buy a burrito? Surprise sur-fucking-prise. What’s this, your fifth burrito this week?

Dear Sara, 

Thank you for your interest in being my friend. Your earnest requests to “grab lunch” are flattering, and your repeated attempts to get my attention by commenting “YASSS girl” on Instagrams of me in different but virtually undistinguishable black outfits have not gone unnoticed.  

By A Social Studies Concentrator