I obviously don’t know Lena Dunham, so I can’t speak to her person, but I find the cult of her personality to be as grating and obnoxious as anything squeezed out of pop culture’s birthing canal, from Kanye West to Ke$ha to that idiot who makes those Girls Gone Wild videos. Which is why I really want her to fight a kangaroo.
Let me be clear, kangaroo boxing is serious business. This isn’t some cartoon fantasy that ends with Dunham being placed in the kangaroo’s pouch and bounced merrily away like in some Pixar movie. I’m talking a traditional Australian dust-up– hind legs flailing and everything. Dunham would have to hold her own for what could be 30 to 45 minutes of intense battle with one of nature’s most aggressive territorial creatures.
Oh, I know what you’re thinking: “K.G. is being such a typical man, bothered by a strong, empowered feminist who succeeded in writing where he failed. He’s probably never even watched an episode of Girls” No, no, yes, and never.
Hipster culture is a stuffy, elitist mob that takes the worst elements of aristocratic and bourgeois society and somehow wields it into something seemingly counter to those cultures, even though it values nothing that isn’t superficial and self-indulgent. And while this is nothing new to hipsters, hipster culture, just like the Beverly Hills housewives and the Kardashians, is now treated with proud openness by the worst stewards of its behavior– people of means obsessed with their location, their social status, and the clothes they wear. Lena Dunham’s audience, basically.
Luckily, kangaroos don’t care about any of that. They enjoy grazing for food and engaging in highly ritualized fights meant as competitive social exhibitions to determine mating and access to drinking spots. The ability to use Twitter to make facile statements about roles of race and sexual equality doesn’t help or hinder the kangaroo’s ability to kick, slash, and disembowel using strong hind legs. A kangaroo doesn’t know anything about exhibiting quirky behavior, unless he’s ripping out blades of dry grass as a means of intimidating an opponent prior to a fight.
This is not a metaphor. The kangaroo doesn’t illustrate anything archetypical, nor is there any secret joke or hidden meaning behind this post. I simply want to see Lena Dunham put on boxing gloves, maybe get pumped up in the dressing room listening to some shitty obscure band, then walk out to the boxing ring where she will stand face-to-face with Macropus Rufus, otherwise known as the Red Kangaroo. The lights in the arena will go down, the bell will ring, and there will be silence. Lena will start to make some vapid point and the ring announcer will say “Shhhhh… stop talking, Lena. It’s time for combat.”