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Tom Coburn is a Big Fat Jerk


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Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Wednesday Afternoon Snarky Fluff Piece Blogging

Okay, well, it struck me last night after I downloaded yet another Mah Jong game that I might grow up to be one of those ladies who spends all day playing cards and gossiping and eating canapes --- you know, those women with the big red lips and bad wigs and even worse glasses.

Well, whatever, that's beside the point of today's snarky fluff piece, which is written in reaction to this snarky fluff piece over on Kos which was written in reaction to a couple of posts by Steve Gilliard written in reaction to an inane and beyond fluff piece column by Maureen Dowd, both of which resulted in an even snarkier fluff piece by James Wolcott.

The snarky fluff on Kos, unfortunately, is just kind of lame.

But first, Gilliard.

One of the things I like about Gilliard's blog is his peculiar (and entertaining) predilection for advice to the lovelorn. In particular, he lifts letters written to the Salon advice guy and gives his own advice.

Case in point: an older woman with a teenage son, her relationship with the teenage son is rocky ... and she's just in L-U-V with her son's best friend and what should she do about it.

Say what?

Now I'm sorry, people, but that's sick. That's as close to incest as you can get without actually committing incest.

In any case, Gilliard sliced and diced and was on target, while the guy at Salon hemmed and hawed and waxed poetic and ended up saying nothing at all.

Today, Gilliard asks whether taking a birth control pill in front of a guy --- let's say, on a date --- is a come on.

Well, yes, depending on circumstances, it is. Say you're on a date, you're sitting in a nice little restaurant --- you don't go dragging out the birth control pills in front of someone you hardly know, at least not in this part of the country. Maybe back east it's the thing to do, but around here? It's a come on. As Gilliard put it, sluttitude. I agree.

By the same token, a guy who takes it as a come on is a righteous raving idiot.

Which means the two deserve each other and we should all be glad they've selected each other out of our potential gene pool.

The women at Gilliard's blog are in a righteous tizzy over this. Why? Down in these parts, you don't share your business with the world, be it money, marital, whatever. You just don't do it.

In any case, this seems to be something Gilliard likes doing and, as of yet, I haven't had a problem with it. And I found his piece on Maureen Dowd not simply entertaining, but really right on target --- he has some potential as the new Dear Abby, really he does.

Now Wolcott --- not sure I'd ever take Wolcott's advice on anything, but he's very fun to read, really one of the best writers around, and he's absolutely right that Dowd is occupying prime real estate and wasting it on blithering nonsense. Yes indeed she is.

I mean, I'm sorry people, but it boils down to this --- there is such a thing as a desperate woman, and Dowd does look that way to me. And there is irresponsible use of column space --- especially New York Times column space. It's not like it's blogspot.com. I mean, really!

Which brings me to the snarky fluff reaction on Kos:

Those darned women. They just won't listen to us when we tell them how they should be living their lives.

[...]

Gee, we're not 25 any more. Thanks for pointing that out! Here's a question: how many of those "serious women" you were dating, the ones that you could take home to mom, were in their 30s? Not that all men want perky firm young breasts and women in their 20s who can more reliably bear children, but if we're going to resort to stereotyping, let's just work that one in, too. And add in the fact that we might just be looking for a 25 year-old as well. There's a lot to be said for the, um, stamina, of youth.


Nyaaarrrrrgh!

Okay, maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe I am completely misreading Gilliard.

But I don't think I am.

And here's one reason his column on Dowd resonated (! academic buzzword!) with me.

A student of mine from a year or so ago is a horribly misguided young girl. She's a beautiful, lovely girl, smart when she can rein it in, funny --- and absolutely dumb as a rock when it comes to men.

I have sat in counsel with her surrounded by nice, stable married women who also try to give her counsel.

It never sinks in. She's bought the myth that all men want is a girl with a boob job. She advertises herself endlessly, rather than devoting that good energy to getting herself together --- and she doesn't understand that men are simply people, albeit somewhat different kind of people from women.

In 30 years, she will be Maureen Dowd, without the good hig paying job, but just as desperate and still frantically advertising herself.

It's not dissing all women to say that. Just as there's such a thing as a totally pathetic drooling desperate man, there's such a thing as a desperate woman. There simply is.

And demanding that Gilliard and Wolcott deny that simply because it goes against the grain of the latest sociological theoretical gender slash women's studies dictum is to demand that they not be human and that they must deny their own perceptions of reality simply to satisfy the gender slash women's studies crowd.

And it's simply wrong for us as women to demand that men deny their own perceptions simply because we don't like to believe there's such a thing as a desperate woman.

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