No, STAR WARS is my Star Wars
This blog post is doing the rounds today. It’s a review of Sex and the City 2 by a man who doesn’t know anything about it. It contains this sentence:
First off, ladies, I get it. It’s yourÂ Star Wars. The opening credits make your tummy tickle the same way theÂ Star Wars theme, to this day, gives me a boner. I understand. A pair of expensive shoes worn by Carrie is just like a metallic bikini worn by Princess Leia. Bonerfreakingopolis.
Let me address this. WHAT THE **** Â ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, DUDE? I’m a lady. You know what my Star Wars is? It’s Star Wars. The same as YOUR Star Wars. Star Wars doesn’t have a freaking gender certificate next to its age rating. Millions of women have seen Star Wars. Millions of women love Star Wars. Â I bet you don’t own a copy of the novel entitled Lando Calrissian and the Starcave of ThonBoka. I do. I bet you didn’t own a Darth Maul that lights up when you twist him. I did. I got rid of him because Darth Maul is a bit shit, but still. I bet you don’t own every copy of the comic Star Wars Tales AND a page of the original artwork from the George R. Binks story by Tony Millionaire. I DO.
And I, my male friend, am not alone. Here’s a little tip for you:
Women are not the Borg*
*This is not a Star Wars reference. I will assume you already know that because I haven’t decided up front what you do and don’t like based on your gender. That would be sexist.