“What the hell, Twisty?” you may well ask. “Whyfore no bloggo lo these past 57.8 months or whatever?” Well, the rumors are true. My lobe got totally blown. Kablooey. Lobaceous matter scattered over several square miles. Obstreperal particles were found as far away as the Texas lege, where, thanks to the Supremes, state Republicans bask in the icy purgatorial glow of their discriminatory redistricted voter maps. Fortunately, I, unlike voting rights in Texas, got better.
What a summer. So much vadge-clenching crap has come down the wire. So many degenerate, entitled, sociopathic, narcissist, megalomisogynist assholes in the news. The spinster mettle has been sorely tested. The eel-like Anthony Wiener*, Mayor McHandsypants of San Diego, the repellent Hugo Schwyzer, murderer George Zimmerman, every dude who works in tech, etc.
And oh my god, what about that dicksmoke victim-blaming judge in that wrenching Montana teen rape case? I allude, of course, to Judge G.Todd Baugh, who reduced the convicted rapist’s sentence to thirty days even though he’d flunked out of his court-mandated sex-offender rehab course. Why? Why why why? Apparently Baugh in his wisdom decided that, before she killed herself out of despair, “the 14-year-old girl was acting ‘older than her chronological age’ and [had been] ‘as much in control of the situation’ as the 49-year-old teacher who raped her.”
O my aching lobe. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. No class of human being is more disenfranchised and/or reviled than teenage girls, with the exception of teenage girls who are known to have been penetrated by adult dudes; they are the most disenfranchised people in the entire galaxy.
Well, this morning I thought I might look to cable news for some uplifting info on the possibility of a diplomatic resolution to the impending US-related doom in Syria, or at least enjoy some footage of that giant floating bong in the Mediterranean. Dee-nied. Instead of any actual news, MSNBC decided to re-run in its entirety its 12-year-old minute-by-minute coverage of the fucking 9/11 attacks, with smoke-gushing images and overwrought narration complete.
OK, look. Not as bad as this, but still. On the somber occasion of the anniversary of 9/11 one might wish to reflect, pay homage, observe a moment of silence, light a candle, hug a firefighter or what have you, but if you’re anything like me you need to actually re-live that mass murder exactly never, so you turned that shit off, made an espresso that sadly turned out a little too thin, and consulted your poor, neglected Twitter feed. Despair ensued.
Twitter. I flippin’ hate Twitter. Not only does it put the kibosh on my natural inborn longwindedness, the feminists and anarchists and cheese-makers and noted wits I follow uniformly bum me out. For instance, today I found out that a cabal of mean parade-rainers are, predictably, out to erase Diana Nyad’s heartwarming and astonishing Cuba-to-Florida swim record by accusing her of cheating. Now, like every woman in history who ever accomplished anything, Nyad is required to face her detractors and explain herself.
Oh, and from the feminist-dudes-always-turn-out-to-be-misogyinst-pricks department, check this out: an Australian documentarist has discovered that the Ukrainian feminist group Femen, they of the questionably feminist “our breasts are our weapons” fame, is run by — that’s right — a megalomisogynist dude.
These girls are weak,” he says in the film. “They don’t have the strength of character. They don’t even have the desire to be strong. Instead, they show submissiveness, spinelessness, lack of punctuality, and many other factors which prevent them from becoming political activists. These are qualities which it was essential to teach them.”
Here is the amount of surprise we registered here at Spinster HQ upon learning that enpornulated Ukrainian women who take to the streets in hootchie lingerie with the rape culture motto “FUCK” scrawled across their chests are actually in thrall to an abusive Svengali who admits on film that he masterminded the Femen “movement” in order to get laid:
I wish you could knock me over with a feather, because I need to lie down.
* I did not originate “eel-like” as the most apt descriptor ever for Anthony Wiener. I wish to heck I could remember where I read it, because I would like to buy that genius epithet-coiner a taco.
Femen link via @LettyNijhuis