In defense of the sanctimonious women's studies set || First feminist blog on the internet

Just because you call something satire, doesn’t mean it is.

Kat passed along to me yet another example of a “satirist” taking a stab at “A Modest Proposal” and failing, miserably, because said “satirist” fails to understand satire. This has been rampant at college papers lately; the latest was written by a high-school boy. The twist here is that the school paper, evidently staffed by editors equally as uninformed about satire as the author, published the piece. The principal, after having read the piece, seized 500 undistributed copies and created a newspaper advisory board. As a result of this, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution decided to run the column, meaning that Justin Jones’ poor excuse for satire has now been taken up as a freedom of speech issue.

For a millennium, the world has been plagued with stupid people corrupting society and bastardizing the value of life for all of mankind.

The intellectually handicapped have been reproducing at a substantially greater rate than those with a fully functional brain.

The problem of the unintelligent reproducing is, and has been, a serious threat to society that has gone unchecked for far too long. It is the responsibility of man to solve this problem before a reverse Darwinism takes effect.

It is depressing to think (especially at the high school age) that people with a high IQ are generally stereotyped as “geeks” or “nerds” because they choose to do more intellectually stimulating activities like homework, and reading, instead of those activities preferred by their peers like power lifting, full contact football without head protection, or crushing cans on one’s head. So while the intelligent are exiled from the masses, the ignorant are cherished and embraced.

Due to the substantial amount of low IQ reproduction and relatively low amount of high IQ reproduction, the intelligent become fewer and farther between.

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Oy.

I have to agree with Thers; this has to be the dumbest thing I’ve read in a while.

AS THE “first pet” of the Clinton era, Socks, the White House cat, allowed “chilly” Hillary Clinton to show a caring, maternal side as well as bringing joy to her daughter Chelsea. So where is Socks today?

Once the presidency was over, there was no room for Socks any more. After years of loyal service at the White House, the black and white cat was dumped on Betty Currie, Bill Clinton’s personal secretary, who also had an embarrassing clean-up role in the saga of his relationship with the intern Monica Lewinsky.

Some believe the abandoned pet could now come between Hillary Clinton and her ambition to return to the White House as America’s first woman president. …

Clinton’s treatment of Socks cuts to the heart of the questions about her candidacy. Is she too cold and calculating to win the presidency? Or does it signify political invincibility by showing she is willing to deploy every weapon to get what she wants?

Such a perfect example of a hit piece, really. First, there’s the implication that Hillary Clinton is an ice queen, and that it was the cat, not Chelsea, who brought out her “caring, maternal” side. Then, there’s the equation of giving the cat to Betty Currie with dumping or abandonment. Does Betty Currie live in a box by the side of a busy highway? I think not. Was Socks left in a box by the side of a busy highway? No. But the cat had been Chelsea’s, Chelsea was at college, and Bill was allergic. Currie undoubtedly spent a lot of time with Socks in the White House, seeing as how she worked there and all, and maybe she had bonded.

Then, there’s the whole “some say” bit, making sure to get in a swipe at Hillary’s “ambition,” her coldness and calculatingness. As if no one else running for President is ambitious, cold or calculating.

“Some say.” But who says?

“In the annals of human evil, off-loading a pet is nowhere near the top of the list,” writes Caitlin Flanagan in the current issue of The Atlantic magazine. “But neither is it dead last, and it is especially galling when said pet has been deployed for years as an all-purpose character reference.”

Flanagan’s article, headed No Girlfriend of Mine, points out that Clinton wrote a crowd-pleas-ing book Dear Socks, Dear Buddy: Kids’ Letters to the First Pets, in which she claimed that only with the arrival of Socks and his “toy mouse” did the White House “become a home”.

I thought I smelled sulfur.

To be honest, I don’t remember much about Hillary interacting with Socks during the 8 years the Clintons spent in the White House, other than than this one book. I hardly think that qualifies as deploying him for years as a character reference.

Now, I don’t subscribe to the Atlantic, so I can’t read Flanagan’s article, but something tells me that the hits just keep coming. And I really have to wonder if Flanagan has anything to say about where this falls in the annals of human evil:

The reporter intended the anecdote that opened part four of the Boston Globe’s profile of Mitt Romney to illustrate, as the story said, “emotion-free crisis management”: Father deals with minor — but gross — incident during a 1983 family vacation, and saves the day. But the details of the event are more than unseemly — they may, in fact, be illegal.

The incident: dog excrement found on the roof and windows of the Romney station wagon. How it got there: Romney strapped a dog carrier — with the family dog Seamus, an Irish Setter, in it — to the roof of the family station wagon for a twelve hour drive from Boston to Ontario, which the family apparently completed, despite Seamus’s rather visceral protest.

Newsweek on Feminist Bloggers

Somehow I missed this until today, but Feministe got a mention in Newsweek (last paragraph). Which is very cool.

I’m glad to see mainstream news organizations covering feminist bloggers, and I’m glad they’re actually talking to some of us (like Jessica) instead of just talking about us. And the reporter picks some great feminist women to talk to — Jessica, Katha Pollitt, Susan Faludi, Carolyn Maloney, Deborah Siegel, and Laurel Thatcher Ulrich.

But. (There are always “buts,” aren’t there?). The article did a few things that really rubbed me the wrong way — first, it focused primarily on the activism and blogging of white mostly-middle-class mostly-heterosexual feminists (of which I am one) and didn’t mention all of the work that feminists of color, queer feminists, disabled feminists, feminist moms, and on an on are doing. Second, it had to write about “young feminism” as if it were the slightly bratty stepchild of the second wave feminist movement. It gave the impression that younger feminists don’t really get it, that we’re more concerned with pole dancing than equal pay, and that we’re pitted against older feminists. It also conflates “younger feminists” with stereotypes about “younger women.”

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It truly pains me to defend Ann Coulter, but

Liss is right.

The story: Maxim — always a beacon of gender equality — has posted a picture of Ann Coulter with suggestions for how to “perfect” her (get it?). Which would be funny, because there’s a whole lot that’s fucked up about Ann Coulter — her misogyny, her racism, her death wishes to liberals, her hate, her bloodlust, and her general ass-backwardness. Except that instead of focusing on all the horrible and disturbing things Ann says, Maxim goes after her big forehead and her man-hands. So, so original. Liss’s diagram illustrates the problem quite well:

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NYT Wedding Announcements, Wealth, and the Frosts

One of the weapons that the Malkinites have deployed against the Frost family is that they must have been really rich, but slumming and choosing to be poor, because their wedding announcement ran in the New York Times.

O RLY?

Funny thing about the Times wedding announcements: they’re often given out not because you’re wealthy*, but because you or someone in your family is notable in some way, that some way often having to do with New York City.

Here’s their wedding announcement.

Let’s take a look:

Mrs. Frost, 26 years old, is a receptionist at the Cat Hospital at Towson, in Baltimore. She graduated from Towson State University. Her father is an electrical engineer at Tracor Inc., a defense electronics manufacturer in Crystal City, Va.

Mr. Frost, also 26, is known as Halsey. He owns Frostworks, a woodworking and furniture-design studio in Baltimore. His mother, Randy Frost, is a quilt artist. His father is the deputy director of design and construction for the City University of New York in Manhattan. The bridegroom’s late grandfather Frederick G. Frost Jr. was an architect responsible for several public buildings in New York, including Martin Luther King High School in Manhattan.

So, Mom’s a quilt artist, Dad’s a civil servant, and Grandpa was an architect who designed some notable public buildings, probably during the Robert Moses era. Woohoo! Oh, he must be rich!

Except, not so much. Architects who design public buildings rarely make all that much, and in any event, even if Halsey Frost took possession of some vast fortune upon his grandfather’s death (unlikely, since it would normally go to his parents’ generation), it would probably have been wiped out paying for the five months that his kids spent in the hospital after the accident, not to mention the ongoing care.

I know someone who had a severely premature baby, whose care in the first few months of her life exceeded the million-dollar lifetime limit on the family’s insurance policy. They laugh at bill collectors and tell them to get in line. Because what else can they do?

In any event, what your parent or grandparent did to get your wedding announcement in the Times often has little bearing on your current financial status. From time to time, I see people I know on the wedding page, and often, their parents were mayors of whatever town they lived in, or state legislators, or in some high level of city or state government, or some kind of nonprofit with outsize contribution relative to the amount of remuneration. Which, again, doesn’t necessarily translate to dollars, and certainly not the kind of money that could pay cash for the kind of catastrophic care that Graeme and Gemma Frost needed.

Mind you, the “He’s got three names, so he MUST be rich” argument really is a keeper.

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* They don’t always run your wedding announcement if you’re wealthy, either. My cousin Kevin, much to the shock of the rest of the family, married into one of the wealthiest/most prestigious families in the country (we only found out the bride’s identity long after the wedding, since the wedding invitation had contained no last names. Since Kevin’s branch of the family had been estranged for a while and the wedding was in Florida and the rest of the family in the Northeast or scattered elsewhere, nobody went. It was only after our grandmother died and Kevin’s mom, who’d been divorced from Uncle Jackie, my mother’s brother, called up Uncle Brendan’s ex-wife Aunt Susie, to say that Kevin and his sister Kimmie felt that their last link to the rest of the family was severed with Grandma’s death, oh and by the way, here’s who Kevin married, that we found out. Which, hello, we were stunned, but it kind of meant that re-establishing links with Kimmie and Kevin (which were only severed because Jackie was kind of a controlling asshole) became problematic. Because there’d always be the question of whether we were trying to reconnect with the cousins we really hadn’t seen in 20 years or trying to get at the Xs’ money. Though it might have been useful to have that contact when a friend of mine was caught near their house during a hurricane and could have used a better shelter). Anyway, even though the name of the family would be instantly recognizable to just about anyone in the country, the Times never ran his wedding announcement, despite the fact that he was marrying a big-name heiress.

It helps to read first, then “report”

Boy was I surprised to wake up this morning and read this in a Welsh newspaper:

When John Cleese, in the film Life of Brian, posed the question, “what have the Romans done for us?”, he was quickly disabused of his take on things – nothing – by a long list of benefits their regime had bought. It could be argued that some feel the same about feminism; one post on a blog in response to the NY Times article reads “feminists made their bed. Now they have to lie on it, alone, with their cats.” Ouch.

You might be surprised to know that this was not written by a misogynistic male, but a female called Jill with sound feminist credentials, who blogs entertainingly at feministe.com. Which, apart from the meow factor, lends it a little weight. If the research is to be believed, all the advances the bra burning generation have bought us – equal rights, equal pay, independence and choice – have actually, emotionally, left us worse off.

Confused as to how I could have possibly written anything along those lines, I went back and read the post she’s quoting. And whaddaya know — the quote she attributes to me is, in fact, me quoting a misogynistic male.

She also got the website wrong.

I wrote an email to the news editor asking for a correction. We’ll see if anything comes of it.

UPDATE: They fixed it.

Osama bin Who?

Hey, remember the guy who planned the attack on the World Trade Center, and orchestrated a great many other acts of terrorism around the world? Well, not only is he still out there, but we’ve just made it harder to catch him because we needed to feed our propaganda machine:

A small private intelligence company that monitors Islamic terrorist groups obtained a new Osama bin Laden video ahead of its official release last month, and around 10 a.m. on Sept. 7, it notified the Bush administration of its secret acquisition. It gave two senior officials access on the condition that the officials not reveal they had it until the al-Qaeda release…A copy posted around 3 p.m. on Fox News’s Web site referred to SITE and included page markers identical to those used by the group. “This confirms that the U.S. government was responsible for the leak of this document.”

Predictably, the White House’s reaction is, “Who, us? Leak?”

This is really unconscionable, but not at all surprising. This administration has made it clear from day one that all their bleatings about national security were totally empty. They ignored warnings about 9/11. They used 9/11 to prop up a preemptive war of self-interest that has, without question, made us less safe. They under-funded the cities who needed counter-terrorism funds the most. They alienated our allies. And now they’re willing to compromise catching the big kahuna of terrorism if it means that they can keep us in a state of perpetual fear.

It’s truly shameful. And I can’t wait to hear the right-wing defenses — which I’m sure are coming right after they change their rubber sheets.