Although Abrams attempted to balance Eve's partial nudity in the film with a shirtless shot of Chris Pine, to tip the scale, Abrams last night released a deleted scene of British star Benedict Cumberbatch taking a shower. And not just any shower-- "a shower of evil," he said.

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In a recent interview, MTV asked producer Damon Lindelof about the scene:

OK, down to the nitty gritty. I feel like I have to start with the biggest mystery/conversation that's surrounded the film from the get go. Why is Alice Eve in her underwear at one point? Oh and also, let's discuss your villain.

Lindelof's response:

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Even more remarkably, the camera opts not to ogle Brienne of Tarth, treating her with the sort of restraint it usually reserves for its male characters. Jaime climbs in the bathtub with her and goads her into anger; she lurches up at him in the altogether. But while Jaime gets a good look at the whole Brienne, the camera stays squarely on her face and shoulders, never straying down. We see a flash of her backside, but that's exactly the amount of nudity usually asked of the fellas. This is both respectful and complicated: Brienne, who is more ‘masculine’ than the other female characters, more attuned to the idea of male honor, gets treated with visual restraint. I’m sure, if she knew, she would appreciate the courtesy. But maybe all the other women on the show would prefer not being objectified too?

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Yes, the Daily Caller piece, to which I refuse to link, was sexist and gross. It was, as ThinkProgress's Alyssa Rosenberg put it, "part and parcel of the right’s current strategy to discredit promising female advocates," and "an attempt to make her seem less serious by impugning her sexual chastity." Was Scott Brown's strategically placed arm over the flesh he bared in Cosmo the difference between his getting elected to the Senate and not, or was it the double standard?

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I'm sure you're absolutely heartbroken over what will happen to the man who's made a living finding young women whose judgment is deeply impaired and coercing them into acts that range from a flash of boobies to reportedly losing their virginity to him. Across the nation, women everywhere are so sad, they're leaving their shirts on and can't even muster a single, forlorn "whooooooo."

There was a time, just a few years ago, when Francis seemed to have the Midas touch, a moment when everything in his path turned into nipples and girl-on-girl makeout sessions. Francis was said to have been worth $150 million, and his future looked like it would continue to be more of the same. After all, what's a more reliable moneymaker than youth and poor decision-making?

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In this episode, Hannah winds up in said brownstone after Ray, irate that his neighbor is asking him to do anything outside the realm of the door of the shop, assumes a defensive rigidity. Joshua (who, we learn later, insists on the “ua”) is not irate back, but confused. “I was hoping we could talk neighbor to neighbor,” he says, perplexed. No luck. To this grownup, they're on the same street. To Ray, they're not even in the same world.

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A new study from the University of California-San Diego reveals that "Emergency room visits due to pubic hair grooming mishaps," including oh my God no no noooo "lacerations," increased fivefold between 2002 and 2010, sending an impressive 11,704 pube-scapers to the E.R. The culprits? Scissors and hot wax did some of the damage, but plain-old non-electric-razors accounted for the lion's share, at 83 percent. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be under my desk, rocking slowly back and forth and crying as I think about this.

The study also revealed that below-the-belt grooming isn't just for adult ladies anymore – men accounted for 43.3 percent of the injuries, and almost 30 percent of them were girls under the age of 18. To avoid becoming yet another harrowing grooming gone bad statistic, the researchers advise hair removal aficionados to "Pay attention to where you're placing that razor. Invest in a non-slip bath mat. And don't shave while under the influence of drugs or alcohol." Yeah, don't do that. For the love of God don't do that.

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In precisely the reverse position are Hannah and her crew, who desire the perceived privileges of adulthood without being able to handle its most mundane tasks. This episode, Hannah finally puts her finger on it. Manic on cocaine (we'll get to that in a second), she tells the equally high Elijah, "I want to learn to write a check properly! I'm saying I want to be independent, but all these little things block me from it — block me!"

When you can't write a check, sometimes the only way to feel old in your twenties is to be with an adult who, presumably, can. (You don't realize what's wrong with them wanting to be with someone who can't write a check.) Last episode, George was the brave elder who has made the plunge with Elijah and withdrew. This episode, the children — and they are children — are easy prey for adults who don't want to get old.

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“It was really well-written!”

This is the damning charge leveled at Hannah's essay in this second installment of our second season — tragically, by Sandy, the perfect partner who we now learn is less-than-perfectly attentive and, perhaps consequently, a Republican. After a season of fighting for self-expression, Hannah and her girlfriends have learned that self-expression is wonderful, until someone actually notices what you're expressing.

Sandy saying that Hannah's essay “isn't for me,” that damn lacking even faint praise, is the least of it. Marnie, out on the job market, finds her Ann Taylor suits and Revlon-ready features are a complete liability in the art world. (“Where do you ... get a suit like that?” one job interviewer asks.) Jessa's artistry has been entirely stymied by her new, emotionally fulfilling life. (“I'm not used to painting someone I love,” she tells her shirtless, posing husband.) And, unfortunately, Hannah's “open dialogue” with Sandy about her writing quickly spreads into an open dialogue about how they actually see each other. When Hannah decides their political differences are too vast a crevasse for her to bridge, Sandy tells she's the typical white girl who moves to the city and decides to date a black guy. (Finger quotes.) Hannah flies back with the familiar-sounding,“It's ironic, because I never thought about the fact that you were black. I don't live in a world with divisions like that.”

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That article hinged on Fox's rather unsuccessful attempts to define herself as something other than a sex-bomb starlet, an attempt that, for whatever reason but not for lack of trying, has evidently been unsuccessful. Fox is profiled in the new issue of Esquire. She strips down for the camera as the author waxes rhapsodic: The actress is "a screen saver on a teenage boy's laptop, a middle-aged lawyer's shower fantasy, a sexual prop used to sell movies and jeans."

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But it's hard to see what was taken out of context from the original program, partially taped here. Stern said on Jan. 7, "I like 'Sex and the City,' but this 'Girls'...it's a little fat girl who looks like Jonah Hill and keeps taking her clothes off and it kind of feels like a rape...I don't want to see that." Calling himself "brave" for watching the show, Stern continued, "Well then I learn that this little fat chick writes the show and directs the show and that makes sense to me because she's such a camera hog that the other characters barely are on." He added, "Good for her. It's hard for little fat chicks to get anything going." He also clarified that if it were up to him, he'd have stopped watching after episode 2. "I'm forcing myself to watch it," he said.

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Right away, there's a black person. A black man. On screen. Having sex with Hannah. “You wanted this,” he huffs to viewers. “You're finally getting this. It's about fucking time.” Yes, thank you, Lena. We did.

It's season two, and if Lena Dunham has taken her critics' comments on race, sex, and class somewhat to heart, the song remains the same. In the first few scenes, instead of Marnie flung around Hannah in her bedroom, it's new roommate Elijah, who has a boner. (“It's not for you.”) Trim Marnie has now been dumped not only by her boyfriend but, despite that great blue dress, her boss. Shoshanna faces her post-virgin life sporting a Katherine Hepburn–like frigidity belied by her frilled, Freudian fascinator; and Jessa, who is mostly absent from this episode, heads back from her honeymoon tanned, corn-rowed, and still not knowing her husband's address.

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City lawmakers are scheduled to vote Tuesday on an ordinance that would prohibit nudity in most public places, a blanket ban that represents an escalation of a two-year tiff between a devoted group of men who strut their stuff through the city's famously gay Castro District and the supervisor who represents the area.

Supervisor Scott Wiener's proposal would make it illegal for a person over the age of 5 to "expose his or her genitals, perineum or anal region on any public street, sidewalk, street median, parklet or plaza" or while using public transit.

A first offense would carry a maximum penalty of a $100 fine, but prosecutors would have authority to charge a third violation as a misdemeanor punishable by up to a $500 fine and a year in jail. Exemptions would be made for participants at permitted street fairs and parades, such as the city's annual gay pride event and the Folsom Street Fair, which celebrates sadomasochism and other sexual subcultures.

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"Right," I say, crossing out "cyborg" in my notes.

There are shots of vampires, witches, mermaids and more -- all scantily clad or in the buff (see the slide show). We're sitting at the kitchen table in his home in Antioch, Calif., looking at Hansen's supernatural nude photography as his Rottweiler enthusiastically licks our feet. This hobby of his has twice gotten him suspended as a San Francisco police officer. Now he's suing the department, claiming it violated his free speech rights by punishing him for his extracurricular activities.

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