Feminism goes like this:

Dear Daily Mail,
It has come to my recent attention,
That my recent appearance at Glastonbury Festival
Kindly received a mention,
I was doing a number of things on that stage
Up to and including singing songs - like you do!
But you chose to ignore that and instead you published
A feature review of my boob.

Dear Daily Mail,
There’s a thing called a search engine - use it
If you googled my tits in advance you’d have found
That your photos are hardly exclusive.
In addition you state that my breast had escaped
From my bra like a thief on the run,
How do you know that it wasn’t attempting
To just take in the rare British sun?

Dear Daily Mail,
It’s so sad what you tabloids are doing,
Your focus on debasing womens’ appearances
Devolves our species of humans,
But a rag is a rag, and far be it from me,
To go censoring anyone— oh no,
It appears that my entire body is currently
Trying to escape this kimono!

Dear Daily Mail,
You misogynist pile of twats,
I’m tired of these baby bumps, vag flashes, muffintops,
Where are the news-worthy cocks?
When Iggy, or Jagger, or Bowie, go shirtless
The news barely causes a ripple,
Blah blah blah feminist, blah blah blah gender shit,
Blah blah blah OH MY GOD NIPPLE!!

Dear Daily Mail,
You will never write about this night,
I know that because I’ve addressed you directly,
I’ve made myself no fun to fight,
But thanks to the internet people all over the world
Can enjoy this discourse,
And commune with a roomful of people in London
Who aren’t drinking Kool-Aid like yours.
And though there be millions of people who accept
The cultural bar where you have it at,
There are plenty of others who are perfectly willing
To see breasts in their natural habitat.
I keenly anticipate your highly literate
Coverage of upcoming tours

Dear Daily Mail,
Up Yours.

(via ekelias)
London Roundhouse 12/07/2013

| Abgelegt unter Musik, Real life, Spaß
The views expressed by the author are personal.