An Ape and His Banana

by

You see, Gavin had this mostly wrong because his perverted brain is totally out of our control. Let me try to help you: If you didn’t think Chloë Moretz’s role as Hit-Girl in Kick-Ass wasn’t the best thing ever, you are basically retarded. Well maybe not “retarded,” that’s kind of harsh, because you probably didn’t even see it [hint: Netflix]. But if you did see it and you still don’t agree with me, you have issues. Because she was awesome as hell and I wouldn’t lie to you about something elemental. I am the father of a daughter so I’m always ready to kick someone’s ass.

Don’t start whining that Hit-Girl mercilessly shot up decimated like 300 bad guys and that she gleefully dropped the C-bomb because what Hit-Girl actually shot up/dropped was the pale pink ceiling on what a girl can or cannot do anymore. I want my daughter, Beasley Korsakov, to be just like Chloe or Hit-Girl, doesn’t matter, both are cool.

I grew up a boy so I know there’s nothing a girl can’t do; there are no secrets anymore. Besides, clubby secrets are so played, right? And Kick-Ass was a touching father-daughter bonding story of the sort not committed to celluloid in a very long time.

Anyway, how long have we collectively wanted our rough, gnarly, heroic boys to be war heroes, emperors, presidents, X-Gamers, and super heroes? Since forever, that’s how long! My kid is all guitar & drums, BMX, soccer, rock climbing, mathematics, and science. The “Happy Hausfrau Woman’s Place” bullshit was made up by dudes who wanted all the jobs back after WWII. Hit-Girl only makes sense to me.

My feminist role model wife does her own damn thing and she’s never been dependent on me or whatever my own damn thing happens to be at any given time. My wife has a bitchin’ Ph.D. and Beasley and I sometimes call her “the good doctor.” Or, as Beasley once said when she was younger, “Mom’s not a sick doctor, she’s a smart doctor.” If I know anything, I know how to breed! I could win a breeding ribbon at the state fair.

The next time someone insists on pigeonholing Beasley into “the pink ones” (cleats), or “the girl toy” (McDonalds), or “not the blue one because that’s for boys (LL Bean), I’m beating the motherfucker in the street. Or if the girl selection is OK but just a little inferior to the one for boys (bike shop) I’m going to let Beasley show them how she was taught to win a knife fight; by cutting quickly and cutting deeply.

Beasley will simply and calmly ask those who try to limit her choices, “Why is that my only choice?” Adults hem and haw and look at me like I’m going to magically save their asses. I just shrug at Beas and say, “Well, hon, should we go find someone competent to help us, or go spend our money somewhere else?” We have done this routine before and I love it; the ape and the banana bit!

We all need to do a better job tamping down weakness. 2010’s almost over and we’re still up to this shit?

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