And now, a bit of light patriarchy-blaming.
I was half-listening to NPR the other day–which, I’m sorry to say, is the only way to listen to it these days–and happened to hear a piece on German Chancellor hopeful-cum-Bush butt-licker Angela Merkel. Merkel was speaking at some rally. The reporter, Rachel Martin, does not describe Merkel as "protruding prominently from George Bush’s ass." No, Martin–who, one assumes, is aware that it’s 2005–informs me that Merkel is "dressed smartly in a grey pantsuit" as she takes her seat next to–I kid you not– "a leggy blonde in a black cocktail dress."
I don’t need to tell you that I have never heard anybody on NPR pay the slightest attention to Gerhard Schroeder’s outfits, or to the legginess of any "blondes" sitting next to him.
"Flanked by curvaceous twin redheads in French maid outfits, Chancellor Schroeder, wearing a tasteful gabardine blazer and silk skirt in neutral tones, told reporters that Bush’s war in Iraq is a load of crap."
Again and verily I say unto thee, it’s 2000 fucking 5. Merkel’s politics may suck the bag, but the woman is a highly educated, top-tier public official. Unless she appears at a press conference wearing clown makeup, pasties and a hula skirt with her press secretary on a leash, her outfit is just as irrelevant as Schroeder’s. And even then, what’s the big whoop?
I’ve had it. I may as well warn you now that from here on out, I’m gonna be ripping, with vigor, the fresh new sexy "feminism" a new one. And I’m starting here: Fashion = misogyny.