Thursday, April 30, 2015

April 30, 2015

A bit harsh, but you'll find specimens that arouse similar sentiments here too:
Take a couple of minutes to gaze at the face of Victoria Nuland, or Jan Psaki, or Samantha Power, or Hillary Clinton. Don't they all remind everyone—that is, us regular American guys of whatever ethnic origin—of that quintessential “cool crowd” we had to contend with during our student days? Aren't they all a bunch of uppity up-tight feminist radical liberal bitches who once made a living hell out of our fresh, green and naïve college days? Well, now that we are not so horny and stupid any more, and they are all wrinkly and saggy (or worked on and Botoxed to hell) don’t we all want to metaphorically get down on our knees and thank Jesus or Yahweh or Allah or whoever that we didn't end up marrying one of these specimens?
Whenever I think of feminism, I picture a differently-abled, fresh-out-of-high-school girl from an ultra-orthodox family in a South Indian village who moved with her younger, even naiver sister to another town to take up a job and made a success of it. Not these whatchamacallits.