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Sunday, June 25, 2006

They Don't Call It ClownHall For Nothing

It's around 110º in these parts all weekend, and serendipitously enough, I just finished up another couple classes, and I'm broke, per usual. This all translates into another fun-filled spelunk into the intellectual cave of ClownHall. Let's just pick three at random to peruse.

First we have the wit and wisdom of one Carey Roberts, whose picture can't possibly do him justice, unless he meant to look like Ed Gein. Roberts tackles one of the more pressing concerns of our nation and its God-bothering (uh, I mean God-fearing) inhabitants -- what we in the proverbial 'hood refer to as biznitches an' hos.

If you happened to take in a Yankees game last week, you probably saw the message flashing on the stadium’s giant screen: “Until the Violence Stops: NYC.” Next Tuesday you can trot over to Prospect Park and “Run Until the Violence Stops.” And the colorful posters dotting the subways constantly remind us to “make New York City the safest place on the earth for girls and women.”

What’s going on? An invasion of the New Jersey purse-snatchers?

Well, if you haven’t heard, Eve Ensler, that nice lady who brought us The Vagina Monologues, decided it wasn’t enough to get college girls to ritualistically chant that three-syllable word that starts with a ‘V.’ “When I started this 10 years ago, no one said the word ‘vagina,’” Ensler notes with satisfaction. “Something has shifted in people.”

Now there’s an accomplishment to put on your resumé.


"Vagina" has always seemed a bit clinical to me too, but I suppose something called The Bearded Clam Monologues might not be quite as popular (except, of course, with me). But I'm seriously unclear as to exactly what the problem is here, and I'm not exactly Phil Donahue. Awareness of domestic violence, and resolving not to put up with it anymore. Growing up about references to naughty bits. What's the crisis, Chief?

Any way you cut it, VDAY is beyond absurd. Men are four times more likely to be homicide victims than women. And the latest research shows women, not men, are more likely to engage in domestic violence.

Of course, if a couple gets into a mix-up the lady is more likely to get hurt. But can we expect men to tolerate the abuse forever, especially when the domestic violence hotlines treat men who call for help like perps trying to game the system?


He actually has a very small point here -- domestic violence is sometimes a two-way street. But nowhere near always. And does it really need to be pointed out that there are very good reasons why law enforcement have to make snap decisions often predicated on bias against the man? It's not just the obvious physical discrepancy, but the mental and attitudinal differences. Men stalk, men terrorize, men threaten children and kill family pets. Women very very rarely do any of those things, and when the abuse is mutual, cops catch on pretty quickly. They are aware of the psychological gamesmanship and enabling that goes on in abusive relationships.

And you know what, guys? If the crazy bitch is faking it, then get the fuck out already and get a restraining order. That's how it works, and that's another reason why cops don't usually buy that argument -- because it's bullshit more often than not.

After all, in the feminist worldview violence is not just being punched, kicked or shoved. To the luna-chicks, careless facial gestures and inconsiderate name-calling are all proof of the epidemic of violence that those strong, invincible women must endure.

And then there’s the rampant garden-variety caterwauling—shameful!

We know that caring, emotive women are far more likely to make facial gestures than those unfeeling, stoic men. So when the Goofball Girls talk about violence against women they’re really referring to those villainous ladies who cast grimacing looks.


No shit. Remember the good old days when you could get liquored up at the block party, look down your neighbor's wife's cleavage, and say "cunt" just for comedic effect? I mean, what the fuck, people?

Does this guy actually have a wife or daughter, a sister perhaps? I assume he has a mother, but there may be some issues there. Subscriptions, even.

This part is just fuckin' priceless:

This is not the first time in recorded history of an outbreak of mass hysteria. The Salem witch-hunts. The recreational lynchings of black men. McCarthyism. The Vietnam War demonstrations.

But there is something especially frightening about the contemporary outpouring of feminist angst. Because as the recipient of billions of dollars in government largesse the domestic violence crusade carries the imprimatur of political legitimacy.


I'm not sure who taught this old fool how to lard his prose with fifty-cent distraction words like "imprimatur", but it ain't workin', Cletus. I'm sure the only reason the Holocaust wasn't somewhere in that hysteria laundry list is because of judicious editing. There is hyperbole, and there is utter stupidity, and the latter is the blunt implement accidentally utilized by those unqualified to wield the former. This is not a witch-hunt, nor is it an effort to lynch innocent men. This is clearly a campaign to help women who have been isolated and terrorized by psychopathic boyfriends or husbands, to let them know that, contrary to what their abuser tells them, they can turn to someone.

I have no idea why this asshole thought such a thing would be comedic fodder for the voices in his head.

Even the titans of industry have begun to smile on VDAY. The Rockefeller Foundation kicked in $500,000 for the New York City program. I wonder what John D. would have to say about dissipating his oil fortune on a high-estrogen rant?

Verizon was another VDAY Sugar Daddy. And the Avon Foundation coughed up profits from sales of beauty products. Mascara to cover up the bruises—get it?


No, I don't get it. I don't know from makeup, but I thought mascara was that shit women put on their eyelashes. According to his byline, Roberts fancies himself as something of a prober and lampooner of current events. Take your pick as to whether that was probing or lampooning. Smells like one-handed butter-churning to me.



Next is young Nathanael Blake, whose countenance strongly suggests that a well-timed piece of ass would change his whole outlook on things. It's just a hunch. Note to all professional virgins out there (this means you, Ben Shapiro) -- when done correctly, sex relieves tension. Even more than praying endlessly and asserting your moral superiority. This is one key reason for the popularity of sex throughout the ages.

It's even more fun when another person is involved.

Anyway, let's see what Blake has chosen to opine about.

Several weekends ago, the Washington Post ran an opinion piece by a woman who blames the Bush administration for her abortion. She wrote that it gave her, “practically no choice but to have an unwanted abortion because the way it has politicized religion made it well-nigh impossible for me to get emergency contraception that would have prevented the pregnancy in the first place.”

The story is simple enough. She’s a career woman approaching middle age, and one night she and her husband neglected to use contraception. The next morning, she tried to get a prescription for Plan B, an emergency contraceptive that kills the embryo by preventing its implantation in the uterus. After her doctor and her internist refused (as was their right) to write her a prescription, she gave up and trusted to luck, which failed. She then got pregnant, got an abortion, and blamed it on the government that kept Plan B from becoming an over-the-counter drug.


Note the buzzwords "career woman" (translation: uppity cunt who thinks she's soooo fuckin' smart. Like Hillary.) and "neglected". I'll give the kid credit -- he's actually a better writer than Roberts, and I think part of it is because he's a little more passionate and a little less condescending about the subject.

Doesn't make him right. He's clearly trying to set this woman up as a heartless, careless shrew who just wants her fornicatin' pleasure, even if it costs a precious life. And that doesn't appear to be the case, if one actually reads Dana L.'s opinion piece (though the piece itself is perhaps a tad hyperbolic and self-serving as well).

But let's get right down to it -- Dana admits that she neglected to put in her diaphragm because she and her husband were in the throes of passion, and didn't want to kill the moment. She sounds a little harried; maybe the career is a ball-buster, maybe there's regret over lack of quality time, but the job is what it is and the mortgage still needs paying. Don't see too many "family values" whores going that extra mile to figure out just how the fuck working families are supposed to keep a parent home for the kids' sake and still put food on the table, with prices outpacing wages every fucking year. Nope, much easier to point the finger than crunch the numbers. Maybe they're praying on it, which is working out just superbly.

And Dana also attests to the fact that her cholesterol medication is Category X, specifically not to be taken by pregnant women. This was not a simple case of a ballbusting career shrew wanting to eliminate a speed bump to her dreams or suburban corporate smilf life, no matter how much Blake would like to disingenuously phrase it. Dana sounds a bit sadder and wiser about the whole thing; perhaps hubby can go down to the Planned Parenthood clinic and get snipped. Then there's no worry about diaphragms or emergency contraceptives or any of that.

But in the meantime,there is simply no goddamned reason Dana's doctor couldn't just prescribe the Plan B for her and let her make her own informed choice, terminating what was at that point a zygote. Now she has to live with knowing what she's done, simply because a small cadre of self-righteous assholes have decided that they get to impose their particular brand of morality on everyone else. That is what all this boils down to, and I kinda hope that sometime soon Blake decides to forgo the condom because it just feels too good to stop, and a couple months later he and whatever farm animal was dumb enough to fuck him have to Make A Choice. Perhaps he will want the child, but she doesn't know if she wants to spend the rest of her life raising yard demons for a sanctimonious fool she may or may not want to stay with. It happens, and again, the basic premise that these moralists keep conveniently overlooking is that we ascribe a certain amount of decision-making power to adults.

Don't get me wrong, abortion is certainly not a choice I would ever lightly endorse, but since I have a (freakishly large) penis, it's not really my decision to make, is it? More importantly, it's not a decision for me to legislate for millions of women whom I will never meet or know, who would be forced to live with the consequences of others' self-aggrandizing moralism.

I think it really boils down to women not only having sex, but having the nerve to enjoy it. One of my favorite Menckenisms (other than the one that graces the header) is the definition of a Puritan as someone who is petrified that somewhere out there, someone is having a good time. I think that goes a long way to informing the self-indulgent hysterics of these so-called conservatives, who are really just a bunch of nattering Gladys Kravitzes who just can't leave other people alone.



Our final victim is none other than William F. Buckley, whom I have always fondly called "Fuckhead" for short. (Maybe the "F" stands for "Francis". Who knows? Who cares?)

Fuckhead decides to pull his gob out his eighth vodka martini to weigh in on one of the most pressing issues of the year 2000: Is George W. Bush too much of a stammering retard to entrust the most important job in the world to?

If your assignment was to write an essay on the stupidity of President Bush, you could start in with some confidence. The reason for this is that George W. Bush hasn't any flair for the spoken word, so that you can take specimens of this weakness and deduce, for your composition on G.W. Bush, that he is stupid.


Someone could point out to Fuckhead that Bush is demonstrably stupid without ever venturing into his stubbed-toe oratory. Someone could also just run into town and grab another bottle of Skovar, there's a good lad.

9/11, Iraq, Katrina, Social Security, Iraq, Medicare, North Korea, Iran, Iraq. That's quite a list of accomplishments, n'est-ce pas? (For you ClownHallers, that be Fronch.) Seriously, any cursory examination of the man's life pre-politics, and what he's done since stealing Florida in 2000, does not exactly make the argument for him having even moderately good judgment, or any particular acumen. He famously brags about how he makes all of his decisions from his gut, to the point where he botches decisions on Middle East peacekeeping simply because he literally doesn't know the difference between Sweden and Switzerland. How fucking smart is that?

On the matter of the president's uttering sentences that are garbled, Weisberg can't be argued with. But a difficulty with language can be attributed to many public figures, paradoxically, even to such as have proven skills. The young Dwight David Eisenhower, for instance, actually wrote military manuals when he served under Gen. Douglas MacArthur, who was a fussy overseer and a guardian of holy prose. And of course we know that en route to the White House, Ike served as president of Columbia University.

But it remains true that some of Ike's improvised spoken language was as impenetrable as the Rosetta stone. After his answer to the question, What would he do if the Soviet Union again laid siege on Berlin? someone made a wisecrack to the effect that resourceful Soviet cryptographers would have given Khrushchev absolutely contradictory accounts of what President Eisenhower threatened.


Well, perhaps MacArthur provided Eisenhower with the sort of discipline and attention to detail needed to overcome the inability to volubly extemporize, as Fuckhead might phrase it. But no matter. Ike's record pre-Presidency speaks for itself, as does Dubya's. Dubya would have pissed his pants in any engagement of WW2, and he sure as hell wouldn't have made it anywhere near an Ivy League school without his last name.

As for this Eisenhower speech Fuckhead refers to, a link would be helpful, but let me hazard a guess and offer that the times called for a bit of rhetorical ambiguity, that one had to find a way to make it clear that war and nuclear annihilation were certainly undesirable, yet still possible given adequate provocation.

Now, if after three years of prosecuting a disastrous pre-emptive war that the rest of the world had warned him against, he still had to sneak in the back door of the occupied nation to spew the exact same horseshit that has no bearing or basis on empirical reality, that victory once again was just around yet another imaginary corner, then yeah, I'd have to say that Ike was stupid as well.

Weisberg reproduces a few sentences from Bush that establish the claim of verbal clumsiness. But Weisberg won't settle for that. His thesis is that Bush is incompetent to think and speak, and that he elected to settle with that incompetence because of laziness, since thinking consumes intellectual calories.

Now there is a problem here, and Weisberg ignores it. It is that Bush has confronted in public contests nimble opponents. You would not do combat with the waspish Ann Richards, former governor of Texas, if you could help it. Ms. Richards is one of the sharpest tongues in town (it was she who said that the senior Bush was born with a silver foot in his mouth). Bush not only survived the encounter, he defeated the wasp.

George Bush met in public debate Al Gore, an experienced debater, and walked away with immunity, as he would do four years later in his encounters with John Kerry.


First of all, Weisberg has compiled several books of Bushisms over the past several years. This is not exactly a new or isolated innovation. It's curious, to say the very least, that a man who has attended both Harvard and Yale, been in and around politics his entire life, had everything handed to him, is still apparently completely unable to speak or think extemporaneously, even after five years in the White House. It bespeaks much more than the mere temptation to call the guy a schmuck and leave it at that. It tells you how he functions, it tells you how he thinks, it tells you everything you need to know about how and what he prioritizes, which is sort of important when you're The Decider.

I don't know enough about Texas politics to know how Bush managed to beat Ann Richards (and I'm not going to bleg the issue because it's of tertiary importance), but I'm sure it had very little to do with his debate performance. Money and smear campaigns are how he and his posse have always rolled, why would Texas have been any different? As for Gore and Kerry, they were their own worst enemies, uncomfortable and wooden, alternately pompous and faux-self-deprecating, trying way too fucking hard and it showed.

None of that shows the most important aspect though -- that in each of the debates, the lesser candidate won. I'm the last guy to stick up for Gore, but he would have been light-years better than this clown. Kerry, ditto. Awkwardness was no reason to not vote for those guys, except in America, where politics is a job where qualifications are inversely proportional to electability. Americans apparently just want to vote for someone who will scratch them behind the ears and indulge their more petulant characteristics, which is where the serious thinkers at ClownHall come in.

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