When Bryan Goldberg first took over the internet announcing that he’d invented ladyblogs with his new venture called Bustle, we took him to task and with your help, named an abundance of incredible female-centric websites that he must have forgotten about. Well, he didn’t abandon ship once he realized that all the mean ladies had stolen his idea, and Bustle is alive and well. Content-wise, the site has received less than warm reviews: Lizzie Widdicombe of The New Yorker calls it “brisk and easily digestible, if a little thin.”
Widdicombe describes the Bustle office as a pseudo intellectual harem: a townhouse in Williamsburg with scores of well dressed, 20-something-females and Goldberg, padding around in schlubby shorts and black ankle socks. Oh, also, his all-male web team is off in a room somewhere. He comes across as, at best, an ignorant, bumbling fool who doesn’t know better, and at worst, a sexist prick who probably gets off on revenge porn and took his cousin to Prom because his friend’s little sister wouldn’t go with him.
Here are the 10 most out of touch, oblivious, sexist, what-the-fucking-hell moments from his profile in The New Yorker, in no particular order because it’s all gold.
Eventually, Goldberg hopes, they will produce “a thousand articles a day—a thousand relevant articles a day,” covering “every topic that young women care about—all their favorite shows, all their favorite celebrities, all their favorite fashion brands, every news story that’s relevant to them.”
But there are a lot of things I (a woman) am interested in besides TV shows (bridal-themed, exclusively), celebrities (men who are sexy), clothing, and relevant news (Royal baby!!!!!!!!). What about Nuva Ring reviews, gardening tips, DIY bleaching all parts of my body, and weird shit I can put in my mouth to give better blow jobs? Will you teach me how to give a blow job, Bryan Goldberg?
“I am a dude. I don’t have a lot of overlapping interests with most women my age. I’m really into history. I’m really into markets and finance. I don’t know a damn thing about beauty, but I don’t need to.”
The only history I care about is herstory, which is the story of how tampons were invented.
When I first spoke to [Goldberg], early in the summer, he referred to Bustle as “the next great women’s publication.”
“A guy who’s successful, busy, cool, and popular—people would say he’s a real hustler. A woman who’s successful, busy, living in a city—maybe she’s a bustler! It’s also a type of old-fashioned dress accessory. I did not know that. I know now.”
Dude, do your research into lady things. Haven’t we already established that a diva is a female version of hustler? Also, adorably, Goldberg felt that naming the site “proved his instincts correct by suggesting the site’s name—Bustle—which he loved.”
Goldberg decided that there is no female equivalent of ESPN.com, an advertiser-friendly Web site that appeals to just about all members of one sex. “If no one’s going to go out there and create the next great new women’s media property, then I’m going to do it,” he told me. “Why not me?”
Bryan Goldberg is the chosen one. The Boy Who Lived (After All The Feminists Got Mad At Him).
“We have several Ivy League writers out of the gate.”
Goldberg had been pitching in with his own editorial research, by talking to “hundreds and hundreds” of young women. He’d talk to anyone: “Friends. Friends of friends. I’m not shy. I’m not afraid to talk to the girl who’s working behind the counter at a salon. I’m not afraid to talk to the hostess at the restaurant. I would ask women at bars, “What Web sites do you read?”
Can somebody get Mitt Romney on the phone? His binders might be helpful in this situation.
“For women, there’s twenty things it could be. ‘I like your earrings. Where did you get them?’ Or someone sees a People magazine and talks about Amanda Bynes. It could be—someone mentions Zumba, and ‘Oh, I’ve been thinking of doing that.’”
Those are the ugliest fucking earrings I have ever seen.
“I’ve probably consumed more kale in the last three months than I’ve consumed in my entire life,” he told me. He berated the site’s Web engineers for not ordering enough veggie and turkey burgers: “Four! We have four veggie burgers for a company of twenty women!”
Ladies LOVE kale, am I right, ladies? Also, don’t worry Bryan. Four veggie burgers is plenty of food for 20 women. They’ll just split each one five ways because ladies don’t eat in public. And what I just did there is called math. Did I get it right?
“Honestly, nothing would have been more helpful here than for some highly regarded feminist writers to say, ‘Bryan’s a good person.’”
Am I a highly regarded feminist writer? Let’s say I’m a feminist writer, and that counts. Sorry Bryan, you’re not getting my endorsement, because you’re a jerk face dick bag and your website sucks.