January 24, 2017

Source: Bigstock

Women rarely fail to let me down.

There’s a Roz Chast cartoon showing one lady shouting at another: “€œThe price of Kleenex WAS SO 47 cents in 1963!”€ That sentence approximates roughly 86% of the “€œconversations”€ I”€™ve had with (or overheard being conducted by) other females over the span of my 52 years.

Now they”€™ve gone and done it again.

Here I thought my column would write itself this week: A bunch of dumb broads were plotting an anti-Trump demo in Washington that, like all the other “€œMillion Something Marches,”€ would surely wind up being just a handful of jerks standing around stupidly screaming for a few hours. And then I”€™d make fun of them (and their unfunny, semiotically askew, pink knitted “€œpussy hats”€) for 800 words.

(Seriously, what do those hats mean? “€œI dare Trump to “€˜grab”€™ the fuchsia, cat-eared wool vagina on my head”€?)

Well, thanks for (almost) nothing, bitches. Because startlingly (especially considering the pre-march “€œintersectional feminist catfighting”€ reported by our own Jim Goad), a few hundred thousand protesters really, truly turned up for the #WomensMarch in D.C., and at “€œsister”€ rallies across the apparently suckier parts of the planet.

How? Everyone knows that most women are generally lackadaisical and incompetent. (As blogger Kate McMillan likes to say, “€œIf women ran the world, we”€™d still be living in caves”€”but with really, really fancy curtains.”€)

“€œI had to pivot from gloating about puny attendance to collecting evidence of the marchers”€™ idiocy.”€

Then I realized: One thing women are good at is organizing get-togethers with other women. Every cubicle job I”€™ve ever had consisted of almost daily bridal and baby and birthday parties, and the all-important “€œgoing for lunch,”€ occasionally punctuated by work.


So I had to pivot from gloating about puny attendance to collecting evidence of the marchers”€™ idiocy, which, of course, proved laughably easy.

If asked to choose a “€œfavorite”€ picket sign from the oh-so-many left littering the scene, I”€™d have to go with the unfathomable “€œMake Them Pay for Razors if We Pay for Tampons.”€

(A close second? This guy’s “€Don”€™t Grab Women by the Pussy”€”That’s Where Babies Come From!”€ is currently tied with “€œCinnamon Rolls Not Gender Roles,”€ but I”€™m open to suggestions (with hyperlinks) for runners-up in the comments.

Prizewinning reaction from our side? No contest”€”the ubiquitous:

Trump got more fat women to walk today than Michelle Obama did in eight years.

Reporter Faith Goldy of the right-wing TheRebel.media braved the veritable sea of avoirdupois and lanugo at the D.C. march and punked the crowd royally.

Goldy asked marchers if the president-rapist of Juanita Broaddrick should be impeached, and they all said yes. Of course, said rapist is (“€œallegedly”€) Bill Clinton, not Donald Trump, but, well, how are these poor dumb females and their beta-male drones supposed to know that…?

She fared better than another Rebel journalist, Sheila Gunn Reid, who covered the Edmonton, Alberta, rally and got hit in the face, by a right-on, left-wing, feminist man (who looks exactly like you”€™re picturing him right this very minute). But of course. Like I always say: “€œNo neocon ever called me “€˜baby.”€™”€

Mainstream reporters survived unscathed, naturally, unless having to write stuff like this qualifies as a variety of mental torture:

At such a young age, Norman’s daughter doesn”€™t understand a whole lot about American politics, but her mother wants her to remember Saturday as a day where she stood on the right side of history. Norman also has a four-year-old daughter.

On election night, she and her daughters made cupcakes with the promise to eat them if Hillary Clinton won the next morning. When that didn”€™t happen, Norman explained to her girls that sometimes life isn”€™t fair.


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