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Friday, October 19, 2007

TGIF. What a ridiculous week this has been. Not just because Congress has been making a fool of itself, although it has, of course. The highlight (i.e., lowlight) was yet another anti-Bush, anti-military tirade by a mentally ill Dem congressman named Pete Stark during the same week when Harry Reid's letter denouncing Limbaugh for smearing the troops is racking up scornfully huge bids at eBay. While the whole right-o-sphere is guffawing at this latest example of lefty hypocrisy, the Democrat leadership doesn't even have the wit to disavow Stark's contemptible rant. In fact, Speaker Pelosi even compounded the foolishness of Reid's attack on Limbaugh by blaming the defeat of the SChip middle-class entitlement bill on "hate radio."

But Congress aside, the greatest craziness of the week belongs to the ladies, who have been cha-cha-ing through the news with reckless abandon as if it were their whole purpose in life to make clear that the female sex is every bit as lewd, venal, corrupt, stupid, and immoral as the bad boys they find so irresistible.

The one great cause on which they all agree, for example, is breast cancer, the second biggest killer among the various cancers (exceeded only by prostate cancer) and the most ubiquitous and lauded raison d'etre for charity drives ranging from pink-ribboned bake sales to pink-ribboned marathons (and this week, pink whistles for football referees!!?), with the result that the color pink has, in the minds of many, become instantly evocative not of femininity per se, but mastectomies. Thanks for that. And now the selling of the cause has entered a perverse new phase, in which cancer and sexuality are somehow merged. New ways of "promoting breast cancer awareness" unveiled this week include wet T-shirt contests and even dry T-shirts that look like this:


Thank goodness that so far men have had the neanderthal stoicism to die silently of prostate cancer without making any attempt whatever to raise awareness of the anatomy of their disease. But what will the "girls" do next to get more attention? I'm sure it'll be as subtle as a pair of bazookas. Cha cha cha.

To be fair, there are other accomplices in the squeamifying of the connotations of pink. A couple of these were also big in the news this week. The nutty anti-American ladies who call themselves Code Pink managed to embarrass themselves and the city of Berkeley by getting outnumbered by counter-protesters at their protest of a Marine recruiting office near the UCB campus.


Eventually they did. But "home" for Code Pink these days happens to be Nancy Pelosi's front lawn. Cha cha cha.


And then there's Britney Spears. Who took time out this week from defying her family court judge and losing visitation rights with her two (apparently unwanted) boys to show off her own favorite connotation (NSFW) to more paparazzi. Cha.


We all know that Britney used to be a role model for pre-teen girls, although she isn't anymore. Except for the girls who are having sex at the age of 11 in middle schools. But they have rights, too. A coalition of teachers and mothers voted this week to allow a middle school in Maine to dispense birth control pills to sixth grade girls without parental notification. Did you get that? Without parental notification. Yes, we concerned and doting mothers have no need to know if our children are ingesting powerful hormones that have never been subjected to long-term testing on 11 year old girls because it would have been frankly irresponsible and dangerous to do so. Never forget that we mothers can be as dumb as a box of rocks too, not to mention too morally retarded to be allowed out in public.

Of course, if we squint in just the right way, we can see their side of it. What with Britney and Lindsay and Paris, etc, there's absolutely nothing they can do to prevent their girl children from becoming sleazy whores within a matter of days after reaching puberty. Who would know better about that than the sleazy whores emancipated women who dropped them in the first place? Cha cha cha.

It will be argued, naturally, that men really shouldn't have any opinion about this sort of thing because we can never know what it's like to be a sex-crazed girl, a 21st century woman, or a mother. And especially a mother. That's why, apparently, the Hillary Clinton campaign is so confident that the female support for her will cut right across lines of party, ideological principle, and moral values. Yes, this is also the week in which we learned that at least one out of four Republican women will abandon all her intellectual stands on political issues and vote (with that curious Mona Lisa smile, no doubt) a Mother-in-Chief boasting zero executive experience into the White House. Cha cha cha.

Meanwhile, the Great Mother herself is dancing up a storm, effortlessly smiling, laughing, and twirling her way around at least five scandals that would be fatal to the candidacy of any white male politician (excluding Bill, I admit.)

There's the Peter Paul civil fraud trial in which hubby Bill is a defendant and Hillary is a material witness.

There's the continuously unfolding Hsu campaign financing scandal (and I absolutely refuse to do one of those terrible InstaPUNdit puns about "dancing Hsus.")

There's the long-smoldering Ray Reggie campaign finance scandal.

There's the brand new Chinatown campaign finance scandal.

There's the Sandy Berger-as-foreign-policy-adviser scandal.

And then there are all the other old Clinton scandals in which Hillary has managed to step-step-step around any number of possible indictments for perjury, obstruction, bribery, and FEC felonies. Could these pop up again to knock Hillary off balance and maybe even off her pedestal? No. Not so long as all the mothers regard sheer maternity as an absolute trump card over the demands of law, reason, and decency.

(btw, please contrast the female icon of America with this truly brave, accomplished, and principled woman who has quit a life of luxury and ease to confront the murderously evil forces in her country at enormous personal risk. She's not dancing. She's marching. Let's hope she's not alone.)

Cha cha cha.

*  EXPLAINING THE GRAPHIC. The gif file (h/t to Gabriel at AOS) is a test of whether you're right-brain or left brain dominant. Here are the originator's instructions:


I think it's supposed to be the case that men tend to be left brain dominant and women right brain dominant, though there will be many exceptions all round. For the record, I saw the figure rotating counter-clockwise first, and then it flipped spontaneously into a clockwise motion. It keeps doing that without any effort on my part. As I said, there will be many exceptions. One exception I believe will turn up among the kind of women reviewed in the Follies today is an entirely different kind of brain organization, illustrated below.


If this is how the gif file looks to you, I wish you only the best and hope you're happy with Britney, Hillary, and company. You definitely deserve one another.

Cha cha cha.

UPDATE. Commenter Maggie suggests the Friday Follies should have noted this as well. But I feel more guilty for failing to mention the new Valerie Plame book ("Valerie lied, the MSM cried.") and the tortuously reported saga of Randi Rhodes and her regrettable but weirdly propagandized collision with a concrete curb. And the Gorgon reporter who terrorized a 70-year-old man for defending his life with a gun. And Ellen's self-absorbed nervous breakdown on national TV. And Peggy Noonan's truly strange meltdown into guarded but wistful fantasies about Hillary. And Maureen Dowd's odd attempt at seeming to have a sense of humor by subletting her column to a vandal court jester who mocked her but smiled so sweetly she didn't notice. Anyone want to try the brain test on the general population?

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