As I mentioned the other day, the Twisty inbox overfloweth with angst and misery. Happily, most of the angst and misery comes in the form of pissed-off emails from women who have found a clump of patriarchy infesting some corner of the world and wish to encrumulate it with their mighty URL linkages. I say ‘happily’ because, according to the imaginary Twistyfesto, whenever an enraged reader sends in a link to, as one of you recently put it, some vile carnival of pain, a blamer gets her wings.
I am obliged in the extreme to those of you who take the time out of your glamorous lives to stoke the icy fires of blaming purgatory.
Of course, yours are not the only emails I receive. This morning, for example, I chortled through my first double Americano skimming a transmission from a concerned dude.
Unless you are yourself a radical feminist blogger, you may or may not know that dudes who email spinster aunts out of the blue can be taxonomized generally into one of two categories. One form is the feminist-ish sympathizer who wishes to thank me for “teaching” him about “alternative” viewpoints, and he maybe sends a link to an article in Science.
The other genus, the Chumps, contains a bunch of sub-species.
There’s the dude posing as a woman (“I happen to love taking it up the ass, so fuck you very much, bitch!). There’s the dude who inadvertently got spamulated, took it personally, didn’t read the FAQ explaining why he shouldn’t take it personally, and is now frantically demanding to know why I deleted his comments, which of course I didn’t (this guy usually turns out to be a “what about the men?” character whose comments probably should have been deleted after all, but what’re ya gonna do). There’s the dude who is a species of moron, or is in his twenties (which is kind of the same thing) who idolizes Tucker Max and thinks it’s cool to smack a bitch down; these communiquÃ©s are usually just strings of misspelled profanity.
These are all amusing in their way, but my favorite, and the most creepy-crawliest, is the concerned dude.
Like all the dudes in this genus, concerned dudes send the same email every time; it’s like they all took the same cheapo How To Smackdown a Feminist tutorial. Concerned dudes fail in every instance to grasp the gist of the blog, and because of their limited intellectual scope, always make the same three core assumptions: that I hate men, that I advocate replacing their dominant culture with ‘matriarchy’, and above all that I need their personal help in sorting out the trainwreck of my crackpot ideas. Concerned dudes universally begin by expressing their deep sorrow about whatever dreadful abuse occurred in my childhood to make me hate men so much. Then they warn me that my hate will consume my soul so I better cut it out.
Today’s concerned dude has concluded that, because “women” have told him “in no uncertain terms” that they like it when men open doors, carry their stuff, and compliment their “feminine attributes,” feminists like me have got it all wrong. But he has boundless sympathy for women all the same. “I have,” he says, and I can practically see him wiping a tear from his eye, “seen women raped, [!] and no one came to their side.” [exclamation point mine]
Regardless of the unaided rape victims he has viewed, it is nevertheless his sad duty to advise me that women are no angels, either. Concerned dude opines, with a queasy sort of British Ripperosity, that “The violence that women do is like a razor, so deft and quick you may not even notice it, and yet so deep that a single swipe is lethal.”
He also says that calling someone a lady is not an insult; a lady is “a woman with manners.”
Golly, Concerned Dude! Thanks to you and your life-altering, dude-affirming concerned email, I am now completely cured of my misguided patriarchy-blaming ways. Before, on accounta my hate-filled brain where visions of castrating matriarchs once danced the Rusty Saw Rhumba, I was unable to assume responsibility for the deft quick razory deepness of women’s lethality! That’s all changed now, and I owe it all to your concern. You’re quite a lady!
Well, I’m off to strop my razor.