Yeah, yeah. We talk about 50 Shades (maybe) too much on the Festivus. But surprise, surprise: Muffy is not. over. it. Perhaps you haven’t heard, but we Feinbergs recently wiled away an entire week in the land of cheese-eating surrender monkeys drinking crisp white wine and reading aloud about the KING of crisp white wine….. and S&M.
Guess what else? If our endless nattering on the subject bothers you, you can take your self-rightous “waahh waaahhs” and bury them right smack dab in that dark, pervy place in your subconscious that is not so quietly nagging you put down The New Yorker and just read the damn thing. Take that, libido-less intellectual snobs of the world!
AnywhoreallyenjoysPhilipRothanyway, I have fantastic news for my fellow sickos out there who managed to gobble up the entirety of E.L. James’ narstiness in a matter of three days or less. There is hope, and it comes in the form of Sylvia Day’s literary masterpiece, Bared to You.
Wait a tick. Does this cover look familiar to you? Hmmmmm……. I just know I’ve seen a paperback on the racks at CVS with suggestive menswear on it before…..
Well looookeyyy here! Now THAT was a brain-buster.
I know what you’re thinking. “Could it be? Could some degenerate cat lady have really hit pause on combing the clearance bins at Dress Barn long enough to pen an outright carbon copy of 50 Shades of Grey so that those of us who prefer our brains to remain firmly in the gutter don’t have to go back to re-reading Jane Austen and poring over self help books?”
Yes, it COULD be. And it is.
To prove my point in the only way a future MBA knows how, I have compiled a spreadsheet below that outlines the ways in which 50 Shades and Bared are NOT the exact same piece of garbage-porno-lit.
50 Shades of Grey
Bared to You
|Impossibly good-looking recent college grad who is definitely not a gold digger||Anastasia Steele: Middle-class virg with brown hair and divorced parents||Eva Trammell: Rich blonde with sexual experience and divorced parents|
|Hot Hotty Hot billionaire with mommy issues who thinks he doesn’t deserve to be loved||Christian Grey: Copper-haired son of a crack whore with cigarette burns all over his chesticles||Gideon Cross: Dark-haired son of a music mogul whose history of sexual abuse is not yet clear|
|Setting||Seattle, probs next door to the Cullens||New York|
|Annoying, also good-looking sidekick||Katherine Kavanagh: disapproving blonde journalist who the heroine mooches off of.||Cary Taylor: (Mostly) approving bisexual male model who mooches off of the heroine.|
|Sexy times locale of choice||The Red Room of Pain.||A well-stocked hotel suite.|
There, see? Sylvia really, truly, definitely didn’t mistake her copy of 50 Shades for a mad-lib and then realize she could make mad munz off of self-publishing that shiz. She is an ARTISTE. Don’t believe me? Just watch this woman in action and try to tell me that she is not the Charlotte Brontë of our time.