My favorite picture ever put on the internet.

Remember towards the end of Roseanne when John Goodman had left and the show had turned kind of crummy and Barr had just had a very public divorce from Tom Arnold and everyone took it as an opportunity to just rip into her?

It’s a shame, because then the show kind of stuttered along for two years before petering out, and because we tend to remember the bad easier than the good (sup 90210) a lot of people either don’t have many memories of Roseanne or they’re negative.

Which is ridiculous. See the following.

Right now the overtly feminist sitcoms we have available to us are Parks and Recreation and 30 Rock. One is about a single, middle class woman and the other is about a single, upper-middle class woman. No one’s doing a show about a married, working class woman who’s packing on a few extra pounds.

In an essay published in New York Magazine Roseanne Barr talked candidly about her groundbreaking show. She mentions her own well-publicized past (in relation to Dave Chapelle and Charlie Sheen), her battles with producers and former head writer Matt Williams and her undying love for John Goodman (something I share).

It’s her very frank accounts of entering the Hollywood machine that are of special note.

[quote align=”center”]I walked into this woman’s office, held the scissors up to show her I meant business, and said, “Bitch, do you want me to cut you?” We stood there for a second or two, just so I could make sure she was receptive to my POV. I asked why she had told the wardrobe master to not listen to me, and she said, “Because we do not like the way you choose to portray this character.” I said, “This is no fucking character! This is my show, and I created it—not Matt, and not Carsey-Werner, and not ABC. You watch me. I will win this battle if I have to kill every last white bitch in high heels around here.”[/quote]

That right there is why Roseanne Barr is my hero. This chubby woman from Utah created a Peabody award-winning show that was in the top ten for seven of the nine years it was on air. She gave Judd Apatow and Joss Whedon their very first writing jobs and she put feminist and gay folks right there on our televisions when the rest of TV was content with Tim Allen’s manly grunts.

You can read the rest of the article at New York Magazine, and when you’re done you can queue up the good (one through six) seasons on Netflix Instant.

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