If you aspire to grow old with your husband, do not under any circumstances watch The Handmaid's Tale. If you must watch it because you told your book group you read it, and there will be a pop quiz on Tuesday, binge it. Get it over with. Machete the horns off of that bull. Don’t elongate your marital murder lust.
Previous to binging The Handmaid’s Tale, buy your husband a ticket to Hawaii as a precaution. If he refuses to go to Hawaii, he is having an affair with a woman who hates warm weather.
While watching The Handmaid’s Tale, you may notice these aggravating side effects.
When your husband doesn’t clear his plate, pick up his socks, or walk the dog without being begged, you murder him.
You move in with your single female neighbor and try to seduce her.
When your neighbor tells you she prefers male genitalia, you make her watch The Handmaid’s Tale. She rips down her Justin Bieber posters and agrees to have sex with you.
When the police come to arrest you for your husband’s murder, you have them watch The Handmaid’s Tale, they lose the evidence and invite you to their annual Christmas party.
TV shows matter! Especially in the virtual world where we are living now. Our brains, clocking up to 18.7 hours of screen time daily, can no longer differentiate between what’s happening on our Hulu and what’s happening in our own households.
When you are watching the Handmaid’s Tale, you cannot escape the reality that men will never pick up their socks, especially after you murder them. That is why I choose to watch The Mindy Project.
Mindy is a happy, sexually active doctor who is not kidnapped, raped, and forced to live in a misogynist’s utopic wet dream. The Mindy Show makes me more tingly and less murdery. And a less murdery me is a happier me.