Next time we’re discussing a classic of poststructuralist feminism: The Laugh of the Medusa by Helene Cixous. Be there.
My caustic gaze and voluptuous ass
turn patriarchs to stone and make outlaws swoon
While Jacques Lacan, that fascist goon
rots in his tomb under blood-glutted grass
Poets and artists are all full of shit
cops, gods, and judges — drown in my spit!