Lena Dunham’s Tits Are Her “Art Doofus”

Giant ball of fun, I mean, giant ball of privilege, elitism, and hilariously distributed fat deposits, Lena Duhman has moved on from feeling sexually rejected by Harvey Weinstein to dredging up hard feelings against Seth MacFarlane for his 2013 Oscars boob song. Anybody who’s anybody in this town has been raped by Weinstein, and those left out are starting to feel the sting. 

As the 2013 Oscars host, MacFarlane dared to take a lighthearted, self-effacing approach to Hollywood in front of a room full of insiders who make millions by setting unrealistic body standards by pointing out that, at the end of the day, audiences just want to see hot tits. His song “We Saw Your Boobs” laid bare the premise of Tinseltown, and it turned out that actresses who send jars of their fats to Africa assuming that their A-list fart jars will solve AIDS and hunger weren’t moved. They’re thespians and humanitarians far before they’re porn stars, thank you very much. Yesterday someone named Jody Rosen tweeted:

Six weeks later, Oscar host MacFarlane sang “We Saw Your Boobs,” w/lyrics naming actresses who’d appeared topless in films. Cool industry. 

To which Dunham tweeted:

Still haunted nightly by “we saw your boobs”

To which Jessica “Transformative Social Change” Chastain tweeted:

Yes. They asked me to be a part of that sketch and I declined. Not interested in reducing women to their anatomy. Ugh. It was terrible.

To which, finally, Dunham tweeted:

Thank God. Also, when I show my breasts onscreen it’s my ART doofus. Just like cartoons making penis jokes are your art, sir.

Honestly, and I’m being totally series – why does Lena Dunham have to be such a bitch? Dunham expressed off-color humor through her character Hannah in Girls like MacFarlane does with his shows. Family Guy, the series I assume Dunham is referring to with “cartoons making penis jokes,” is actually watched by primarily left-leaning audiences, according to the New York Times, and has tackled everything from abortion to domestic violence. Dunham might want to take note of his approach, considering the only thing I learned from seeing her drowning in jizz twenty-four seven on Girls is that she’s a whore. 

Relating a tongue-in-cheek song about boobs to widespread rape allegations against a powerful studio exec only dilutes the seriousness of actual victims’ experiences Dunham claims to support. But the Dunham show must go on. And referring to her tits as art? Isn’t the bar for what constitutes as art in Hollywood already low enough?

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