She kind of looks weird when she wears glasses, her mouth is so big it makes me uncomfortable, and when she has that frizzy-hair thing going on in the “Princess Diaries” (saw it once, whacked it to Julie Andrews TWICE), it’s a little like walking in on a one-night stand who’s taking a dump — I’m ready to forget all the goodwill that was previously built up.
Something I had taken for granted as universal truth was challenged (like Galileo’s famous speech to the Pope: “The Earth is round, son!” and then, “You can excommunicate THIS,” pointing to his dick). I mean, how could we not think of Anne Hathaway as beautiful? All the scientific reasons are there: her hips, hair, breasts, lips, skin all indicate good health and, in turn, fertility. Her face is symmetrical. She lacks a discernible hunchback. She looks like someone who would say, “it’s OK that you can’t last that long.”
But there is this contingent of men that refuses to recognize this (an “Office” episode similarly discussed Hilary Swank’s merits, but I think we can all agree she has a pen*s). They key on her giant features: her aforementioned mouth, as well as her nose and eyes all look like they were designed for a much larger face; her body is too long; she has hands like a longshoreman. And yet… and yet… there is this amazing phenomenon I’ve discovered during exhaustive polling: some of these dudes who are the most adamant in their belief that Ms. Hathaway is an ugly giant who feasts off the flesh of infants are actually ugly themselves. Not everyone, but a good portion in the “no” pile are these geekazoid, Steve Buscemi look-a-likes that most definitely have not had sex with anyone except maybe a priest. And that got me thinking: anytime one of these arguments come up — “is ‘so and so’ hot” — there is always at least a couple guys who say “no” that would have zero shot at bagging that particular doe.
How does that happen? You would think your natural evolutionary need to get-all-up-in-dat V would kick in, recognizing your own ugliness and then, naturally, you’d find ugly women more “attractive.” I think in most cases, these dudes are just lying as a way of tricking other people into thinking their stock is higher than it really is. But with someone like Anne Hathaway, that doesn’t hold water; she’s a movie star, there is no drawback to admitting her hotness. So I’m left to believe that these guys are genetically “broken.” Like a caveman born too slow to escape the jaws of a saber-tooth tiger, these poor, ugly mistakes of humanity can’t possibly survive long enough to reproduce. This is our society’s way of weeding out idiots — 100,000 years ago, the weak and stupid died in puddles of their own piss and we became stronger and stronger as a species. Now we’ve got iPhones, so who cares who’s strong or smart?
We’re at a turning point in our evolution, a “monkey-discovers-tools” moment where the best of our species will need to just become better and better at having sex with chicks — regardless of their looks — until we achieve our destiny as a society: a Utopia where everyone's just banging all the time, wherever they want, whenever they want.
So while you’re taking a break from searching for your pen*s in your pube-flab to judge a girl's mouth-to-nose-size ratio, let me be the first to ring in this new Golden Age of rampant sex. If a girl can fit onto my full-size mattress, I will sleep with her. If she wears a shirt that bellows out from below her b**bs to below her ass like a carnival tent, I will sleep with her. If one eye is significantly lower than the other, I will sleep with her… and then gladly sneak her out before my roommate wakes up.
More than a century ago, Lady Liberty begged for “poor, huddled masses,” and born out of that was the greatest nation this world had ever seen (U S of Fucking A). Well I say, give me your pudgy, mediocre masses, because, like our forefathers, I believe in a better life, one without limits. If you can’t handle the onslaught of the future, that’s fine, go mope in the corner of the bar and talk about how “no one here is hot.” Nobody weeps for the telephone booth repairman, friend. I’ll be in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by slightly flawed honeys, smashing beer bottles off my sparkling codpiece and toasting the future.
And what about Anne Hathaway? Well, I’ve seen Anne Hathaway nekked and if you have a normal sexual appetite and an Internet connection, so have you (a screencap from “Love and Other Drugs” is framed above my mantle). This is the great equalizer. It’s almost as if she heard that this argument was going on, and thought, “Oh yeah, nerds? Take a gander.” A mold of those breasts is probably sitting in God’s private collection. As for her face, who cares? Ugly or hot, I’d be proud to submit my seed into her ovaries — that’s right, Annie, baby, let that hair frizz out… I’d be happy to bang ya'. You know why? Because I’m friggin’ evolved.