My eyes!
On Monday night, Hillary sycophant Lena Dunham decided to drive horror into the hearts of American citizens by dressing up in a revealing “grabbed p****” Halloween costume. Although simply going as herself would have been equally as horrifying.
The feminist with a heart for abortion opted for a see-through leotard, which fully exposed her nipples and rode far too high on her hips for anyone’s comfort. She also rocked cat ears and eyes, paws and strategically placed mannequin hands “grabbing” her.
Warning: The photo below is something you cannot unsee.
Dunham’s outfit is an attempt to rip on Republican nominee Donald Trump for his lewd comments revealed in the leaked Access Hollywood tape. Trump notably boasted about being able to grab women “by the p****” due to his fame. “They let you do it,” he bragged to then-co-host Billy Bush.
But of course, Dunham’s slap at Trump is wildly hypocritical. The feminist has disturbingly bragged about sexually abusing her little sister in her collection of nonfictional personal accounts of her life, Not That Kind of Girl.
“Dunham writes of casually masturbating while in bed next to her younger sister, of bribing her with ‘three pieces of candy if I could kiss her on the lips for five seconds . . . anything a sexual predator might do to woo a small suburban girl I was trying,'” notes National Review’s Kevin Williamson. “At one point, when her sister is a toddler, Lena Dunham pries open her vagina — ‘my curiosity got the best of me,’ she offers, as though that were an explanation. ‘This was within the spectrum of things I did.'” Here’s the disturbing passage from her memoir:
“Do we all have uteruses?” I asked my mother when I was seven.
“Yes,” she told me. “We’re born with them, and with all our eggs, but they start out very small. And they aren’t ready to make babies until we’re older.” I look at my sister, now a slim, tough one-year-old, and at her tiny belly. I imagined her eggs inside her, like the sack of spider eggs in Charlotte’s Web, and her uterus, the size of a thimble.
“Does her vagina look like mine?”
“I guess so,” my mother said. “Just smaller.”
One day, as I sat in our driveway in Long Island playing with blocks and buckets, my curiosity got the best of me. Grace was sitting up, babbling and smiling, and I leaned down between her legs and carefully spread open her vagina. She didn’t resist and when I saw what was inside I shrieked.
My mother came running. “Mama, Mama! Grace has something in there!”
My mother didn’t bother asking why I had opened Grace’s vagina. This was within the spectrum of things I did. She just got on her knees and looked for herself. It quickly became apparent that Grace had stuffed six or seven pebbles in there. My mother removed them patiently while Grace cackled, thrilled that her prank had been a success.
So, if Donald Trump is a monster for his remarks, why would Dunham—a self-described “sexual predator” of her little sister—be the moral authority here, ridiculing Trump?
Dunham’s get-up is nothing more than additional unnecessary punishment the American people did not need this election cycle, presented by a hypocritical feminist suffering from a serious deficiency of self-awareness.
Last Halloween, Dunham dressed up as a Planned Parenthood abortionist, because murdering babies is edgy and cool—mind you, Dunham is the same woman who finds the word “sweetheart” offensive. Figure that one out.
Stay classy, Lena Dunham.