‘The Switch’ is nothing but glorified rape

The more I think about the movie “The Switch,” the angrier I get.

As a lady in the theater told me, it was a “waste of film.” And she only paid $6.75 because she got the senior discount. She said she felt sorry that I paid the full 10 bucks.

You and me both, sister.

I often wonder whether I were abused in a past life … or I am just THAT disenchanted by my mother’s lifelong string of failed, fucked-up relationships that has her parked in MY house and not happily married off somewhere … but I don’t take being degraded by men.

Don’t get me wrong — I’ve worked for enough nutcases (male and female) to know what psychological torture is. But romantic, physical or just plain relational rape is, well, still rape.

It’s not a word I use lightly. It’s not a word I use at all. I get annoyed when people claim to have been raped or even sexually harassed. As an employer, I’ve had to deal with those kinds of claims. Fuck, I’ve entertained filing said claims.

Not that I’m a prude. Oh, not me. I’m probably more sexually overt than any woman I know. But I also know that “no” means “oh HELL no.” And to see people (male or female) abusing their power, and victims (again, male or female) being victimized makes me VERY angry.

And this stupid-ass movie, based on a stupid-ass story (“Baster”) from 1996, wasn’t just a waste of film. It is an affront to victims worldwide … to anyone who was powerless (knowingly or unknowingly) to someone violating their personal space or, worse, their BODY because someone COULD.

So, I’m giving away the plot. Fuck it — DON’T spend money on the movie or The New Yorker archive to read the story.

Nerdy boy (as though Jason Bateman could be anything less than yummy) meets lovely girl. They date and, to his chagrin, they end up as “just friends.” In the written story — which writer Jeffrey Eugenidies clearly articulates is as similar to the movie as a “cello” is to “cellophane” — said girl had gotten pregnant years ago and aborted it.

Naturally, Hollywood left that part out. But in the written story, the man exacts revenge by switching the sperm that was left out at a party that was, of course, to be used to impregnante the now-40-year-old lovely girl.

In the movie, Jason Bateman was rip-roaringly drunk when he spilled the intended sperm and, in his drunken stupor, he reasoned that he had to replace said sperm.

The written story took place over 10 months, and the character never ‘fessed up to his crime. The movie spans seven years and the character realizes the kid is his, and confesses and wants to be a dad to him.

Predictable, yes. Cute, sure. At times. But regardless, the character “Wally Mars” violated his friend’s body and trust. And a brand-new life was created on a lie.

Of course in the movie, I can’t figure out how Aniston’s character doesn’t realize that her fucked-up neurotic kid couldn’t POSSIBLY belong to the suave donor she paid. But OK. Suspension of disbelief … from a bungee cord that’s ready to snap. I get it.

But even if there was no penetration involved, this was still rape. Using someone else as a vessel to fulfill some sick desire cannot be called anything else.

So I didn’t just dislike the movie. I loathed it. It deserves to go straight to DVD … and make a beeline for the $5 bin.

I’m more disturbed by the story. That Wally was exacting revenge on the woman having an abortion.

Look, I’m close to the subject matter. So I have my back up for a reason. And decisions are made for whatever reasons they are made for. The end. Revenge or karma or a different afterlife or what the hell ever is not supposed to be in humans’ hands.

I’ve had revenge taken on me for denying a friendship. To the point of costing me one job and making things really scary at another. I’ve had to look under my car for a psycho a thousand times. I hid online where I lived for years. It’s only recently that I will gladly publish my latitude and longitude because I am up for a fight if that’s what it must come to.

And even though I know better than to wonder this, I do have to wonder whether certain, ah, actions I have taken in my day will haunt me later in this life. It’s between me and God, as far as I’m concerned. But again, if people think they have the opportunity to PLAY God … would they?

I hope not. I think not. And I know it’s only a story. But the general public is too stupid to have original ideas. There, I said it. Probably 97 percent of the public gets its ideas from somewhere/someone else. I don’t want any would-have-been baby daddies getting any ideas with this cinematic rape story. (There’s no other way to describe it.)

I know there will always be women (most of them young) who trap men into fathering their children. And that’s no better than men inserting their sperm where it’s not wanted. But making an (albeit shitty) story and movie cannot end well for the general population.

I’m not one to ban or burn books or other forms of art, but I sure as hell want to light myself on fire right now.

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