Amanda Marcotte is Dworkin Barbie: all the anger, only more plastic, derivative and frivolous. Combine it with her My Vulgar Little Feminist writing style and her Chatty Cathy pull-string range, and you have a feast of weapons-grade stupid ever time she hits "Publish." The Octomom picture is fitting--at least the battle of wits between them would be a nail-biter.
Let me be the first to reassure her: she doesn't have to reproduce.
But she will have to live with the consequences of an increasing number of people Living The Marcotte Way. As in, she'd better have one hell of a retirement nest-egg or acquire a taste for Alpo in her old age.