Stick a fork in the sex...wait....

Every once and a great while, news comes along that fills me with the power of the Holy Spirit, hits me like waves of pure bliss, bites me like a radioactive spider: Folks, I don't know how to tell you this, not because it's bad news but because I never get to share news this good. They...they...they're done with Sex and the City movies.
No, it's not because they read Lindy West's brilliant review and realized that everyone involved in this is a cinematic Robert Oppenheimer, threatening to bring untold destruction and in doing so becoming sons of bitches. Nope, it's easier than that: The second movie did not do well, mostly on account of being absolutely unwatchable, even by people who watch that crap. It failed to clear $100 million domestically (the first one did more than $150 million), it only scored $185 million in foreign markets (the first one did $265 million), and it received "mixed" reviews, which is a nice way of saying everyone hated it but one douchenozzle liked it just to be noticed (cough, Armond White, cough). Right now, this information is only based on comments from the cast, who probably have used the last remaining amounts of self-denial they were using to get through making the second movie, and some general industry folks. But there's no reason we shouldn't be allowed to get excited about the real, true end to one of the greatest hoaxes of all time. Hoaxes? Yes, I said hoaxes. Women around the world were sold snake oil, were flimflammed by a product they were told would speak to them. When it did, at times, they were so encouraged because so many products out there just ignored them that they failed to focus on the soul-crushing, brutal horror of the characters and the depravity of a show based on the premise that you ain't shit without a man, honey. I hope someone throws the series a funeral, complete with a grave and headstone, so I'll finally have a place to put my pee. This is a good day people, a very good day indeed.

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