Thursday, December 21, 2006


This is mild compared to what she shows.

YAWN.  We're used to it. Okay. I'm used to it. I spent the Seventies anxious to debate feminism with feminists. It never happened. They seemed to sense my extraoradinary eagerness to discuss their outlandish assertion of female intellectual equality. They didn't want to play.

Now we have female bloggers. I cited a site called Politits not long ago, written by a woman who calls herself D-Cup. She responded rather pleasantly and, to my first comment at her site, she replied:

Good morning, IP. I've just published your comment on my blog. Thanks for your compliments on how I approached this.

I'll post more sometime today, but for now I thank you for your link and want to let you know that we might agree more than we disagree on certain issues.

A political perspective adjustment would be quite a challenge, but I see no point in discouraging you. Incurious, I'm not.

I look forward to more conversation with you regarding the male/female and conservative/liberal points of view.

I thought this enouraging, so I updated my post with this: "The author of Politits has responded to this entry in a very ladylike way. I applaud the tone of her argument and though I disagree with her on multiple issues -- you can read my comment at her blog -- I withdraw much of my charge about dual identity. In truth, she's as frank as I could hope for. Now, if we can just adjust her political perspective..." I was hopeful about the possibility of discussion. My mistake. I should have known.

Because that's when everything went to hell. There was a brief (and highly enjoyable) revolt at this site, which provided a convenient excuse: D-Cup responded immediately, so incredibly relieved...

So Does This Mean I Win?
Here's what you say when you have nothing intelligent left to say. From instapunk.

[The InstaPunk post, quoted in full.]

Okay, to sum up. Kill anyone who doesn't agree with me. Preferably with a gun to the head.

All right. Most women don't really have a sense of humor, so how could Politits have known that InstaPunk was just enjoying an inside joke on itself by creating a confrontation between the Barbarian InstaPunk and the Ultra-Barbarian TruePunk? So I inserted a comment at Politits to alert her that I was still waiting for the promised discussion.

No answer.

After perusing her site for several days and discovering nothing new on it but another clicheed attack on Rumsfeld, I inserted a second comment:

From InstaPunk:

Interesting that you failed to post my comment on this, your presumptuous crowing of victory.

I gather you don't want debate. At least not with a conservative who knows how to fight back. (TruePunk is only a diversion, something like your bra. Go here( to see how much he has shifted the discussion at

Pfui. You still haven't responded to my rebuttal of your Pelosi pandering. BlueGal hasn't stepped up to the plate either. (I challenged her to respond to this post about abortion logic, "The Magic Doorway."  Silence. Feel free to respond in her place.

You've both got lots of attitude. But I don't see much substance. Believe me, I know there are female intellects, but proving it requires more than pissing on Rumsfeld. Nothing you've written about him convinces me that if you met him, his response to your assaults wouldn't either crush you or make you feel like a rude, ignorant wench. Which I begin to suspect you are.

Show me I'm wrong concluding you're a lightweight. If you ignore this second comment on the same post, I WILL be making fun of Politits...


You know: "Hey! Come out and fight! It'll be fun!" This was the response she finally posted:

IP: This is the first comment I received from you (since the initial one) and here it is. You are here with all your name-calling and threatening for the world to see. No, I'm not interested in debating you because you've shown yourself to be unable to have civilized conversation without decedending into schoolyard taunting and threats.

I'm also smart enought to know that with someone like you, it's an utter waste of time. You hold your views dearly and I respect that. What I don't respect is your approach.

And no, I'm not interested in responding for Blue Gal. She's perfectly capable of speaking for herself. If you're really anxious for a response from her, try again. Perhaps she didn't receive your comments either.

I'm guessing that the Blogger Beta switch may have caused your earlier commments (which you accuse me of not publishing) to disappear before they reached me for moderation, but I can assure you that the only comments that get deleted are spam.

As for my Pelosi pandering...sorry it bothers you. Traffic is traffic. You've driven quite a bit to my blog, thanks.

And if you feel better picking on me, have at it. Wouldn't be the first time, doubt it will be the last. And I'll be happy to have the traffic. Some come and go quickly. Some stay to read or whack. Some become repeat visitors.

And your fantasy of me and Don Rumsfeld having a tete a tete so that I can ask him why he f***ed [asterisks min; IP] up this war so badly? Interesting concept. Really. Glad you used it as another opportunity to call me a name.

Feel better?

Not really. It's a frustrating pattern. Both Politits and BlueGal responded affirmatively when asked if they'd like to seriously debate their leftist positions vis a vis InstaPunk's right-wing insanity. BlueGal is a Brandeis graduate, but when pressed she finally declared that InstaPunk's entries are too long and complicated to understand???!!! (I guess Samuel Johnson is no longer part of the Brandeis humanities curriculum, or anyone else who writes sentences longer than ten words and essays longer than ten paragraphs.) Politits has seized on an insult that's somewhat less inflammatory than what's acceptable in routine liberal discourse to declare herself above communicating with the likes of me, even though no asterisks have been needed in quoting my conversations with her.

I was in college when feminism first reared its ugly head. In all the time since, I have never had a meaningful discussion with a feminist about her views on sex and society. Usually, when they learned I really wanted to have that discussion with them, they mysteriously vanished into the ozone. Some 20 years later, my last attempt failed when my own sister averred that a woman could pitch like Sandy Koufax if she got the right training. I didn't ask her what regimen a girl would need to become Koufax or Muhammed Ali or Abraham Lincoln. Would it require never saying anything even moderately offensive to their fragile female egos? I'd have been fascinated by the response. But she'd already stalked out of the room in a huff by then. That was a big disappointment because she had a Ph.D. in the Natural Superiority of the Female Sex from no less an authority than Cornell University. Go figure.

And now Politits and BlueGal have left the room, too. My supposition? They're cowards. After all, to quote Politits, "Traffic is traffic." She doesn't have to like me to debate me. But like most liberals, and most feminists, her favorite sounding board is a well filled with the echo of her own voice.

Now. Have I called her a name? Geez, I hope not. I am earnestly soliciting her participation in an experiment to introduce the great liberal truth to my readers and to demonstrate that it is superior to the logic and rhetoric of InstaPunk. Is she willing to talk?

Or should I release TruePunk from his chains one more time and let him do his uncouth worst?

Oh. Excuse me. That will be perceived as a threat. I beg a thousand pardons. Far be it from me to engage in the implied sexual violence of, say, every lefty blogger in the whole f***ing blogosphere.

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