Archive for November, 2025
Having a boyfriend is embarrassing say Gen Z liberal women
Nov 2nd
Here is the latest insanity from Gen Z liberal women. Having a boyfriend is embarrassing, According to Chante Joseph, who can’t get a boyfriend, she wrote in brattish Vouge ” women reclaiming and romanticizing their single life. “The Boyfriend Backlash: A Satirical Lament from Jann Scott By Jann Scott Oh, Vogue, you glossy harbinger of hemlines and heartbreak—how you’ve outdone yourself this time. Chanté Joseph’s latest screed, “Is Having a Boyfriend Embarrassing Now?”, dropped like a poorly timed thirst trap, and suddenly, every swipe-right survivor is clutching their pearls (or their solo brunch mimosas) in mock horror.
At 300 words of navel-gazing drivel, it’s less an article than a therapy session disguised as trend reporting. Joseph’s thesis? Boyfriends aren’t prizes anymore; they’re punchlines. Posting your man online? Cringe. Claiming partnership? Lame. Singlehood? The ultimate flex. Honey, if that’s progress, pass the popcorn—I’m here for the roast.
Picture this: Joseph, our intrepid cultural oracle, polls her gal pals (all suspiciously coupled-up, mind you) and uncovers the “scandal.” Women are cropping boyfriends out of pics like they’re exes in a revenge edit. Why?
Because men “embarrass you even 12 years in,” apparently. One source laments losing followers after a “hard-launch” post—gasp!—as if Instagram validation were the Nobel Prize for romance. Joseph nods sagely: We’ve escaped “Boyfriend Land,” that patriarchal purgatory where women’s worth hinged on wifey status. Now, love’s a guilty pleasure, akin to admitting you still own a DVD collection. TikTok erupts in stitches: #EmbarrassingBoyfriend trends, with memes of dudes as aura-sucking vampires. Men? Outraged, per TMZ—poor dears, reduced to footnotes in their own irrelevance.
But let’s dissect the stupidity. This isn’t empowerment; it’s performative misery. Joseph’s straddle-the-fence schtick—reap couple perks, but ghost the label—reeks of the very indecision she mocks. It’s not “reclaiming single life”; it’s FOMO wrapped in faux-feminism.
Remember when Vogue championed glamour? Now it’s peddling paranoia: Date at your peril, lest you seem “culturally loser-ish.” Newsflash, Chanté: Relationships aren’t embarrassing; hiding them is. The real lame flex? Writing 300 words to pathologize partnership while your interviewees whisper sweet nothings off-camera.
In a world of ghosting and gridlock, love’s the rebel act. Boyfriends aren’t passé; your hot take is. Single and savage? Fine. But shaming the coupled? That’s just bitter scroll envy. Vogue, next time, feature a man who remembers anniversaries. We’d all sleep better.
Trump’s Late-Night Wrecking Ball; Jann Scott Live
Nov 2nd
November 2, 2025 by Jann ScottIf you pick a fight with Donald J. Trump, pack a body bag. He doesn’t slap back—he obliterates. Just ask Stephen Colbert, Jimmy Kimmell, and now Seth Meyers, the latest casualties in Trump’s one-man demolition derby.
I watched Colbert smirk about Trump’s “crowd sizes” while he got thrown off the air. Trump? One Truth Social post—“boring,” “no talent,” “ratings in the toilet.” Boom. Corbert’s comeback was a lecture on “civility.” Civility doesn’t save sinking ships, Then Kimmell mocked Trump’s McDonald’s runs. Trump dropped a photo of Kimmel’s designer shoes next to a Happy Meal, captioned “Jimmy’s real prize.” The internet lost its mind. Kimmell cried “bully” on air. Buddy, Trump’s playing WWE; you brought a pool noodle.
Now Set Meyers, bland as unsalted crackers, tried a “small hands” jab. Trump countered with a 
supercut of Meyers bombing jokes, set to circus music. Meyers’ ratings? Cratered. His show’s now appointment viewing for insomniacs and their cats.
supercut of Meyers bombing jokes, set to circus music. Meyers’ ratings? Cratered. His show’s now appointment viewing for insomniacs and their cats.Listen up, late-night lightweights: I’ve seen Trump turn punchlines into punch-outs. He doesn’t debate—he devastates. Keep poking the bear, and you’ll be the joke nobody laughs at. Me? I’ll stay in my lane, cracking wise without waking the beast. Smart hosts survive. Dumb ones get Trumped.
