Frequent readers will recall that all I wanted for Christmas last year was a novelty wax model of Gwyneth Paltrow's decapitated head in a Fed-Ex box from the movie Seven.
What I want for this Christmas is Goopy's license to practice medicine, which actually she doesn't have. But you wouldn't know that, because she has been spouting a bunch of unsubstantiated, dangerous bullshiz from her wood-fired, gluten-free pizza-hole claiming that bras cause breast cancer!
It's time for Goops to consciously uncouple her brain from her mouth, because the former is letting the latter deliver a whole Nordstrom bra-rack full of bollocks about things it knows naught about.
Today, Salon reports that Goops is under fuego for pushing the widely discredited myth on her official website that underwire bras cause breast cancer. Speaking as someone who (a) has many friends and family members who have had breast cancer; (b) dons an underwire bra every morning and removes it at the first possible opportunity every single evening; and (c) only puts it back on for certain company, I'm the last person to promote use of ANY kind of bra if unwilling or unable. Fuck knows I hate that mesh and wire prison more than Goops hates McDonalds.
But I also know my many limits, and one of them is the unlicensed practice of oncology. Considering the breadth and likely suggestibility of Goopy's audience, I think it's pretty irresponsible for her to tell her fans that their titties might get tumors in 18 hours courtesy of Playtex.
As one cancer survivor and advocate quoted in the Salon article so diplomatically stated, "If you get your advice from Gwyneth Paltrow, you're probably not serving yourself particularly well," with another noting that "articles like this don't educate; they simply create more fear and offer no value."
That's one way of putting it.
Personally, I'm tempted to put it less graciously, and you know me: I always give into temptation. So here is the O.H.M. bottom line on this jackass: Goops, you need to stick to what ya knows best: pilates, the Oscars red carpet, and Coldplay. Your name isn't Dana Farber or Sloane Kettering and you don't know shit about breast cancer.
Friends and survivors: what is your reaction to this straight fuckery?