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Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Ol’ Robbo hopes that he will be able to get this post up but fears that Ma Nature may put the kybosh on it.¹  Even though it was balmy enough for softball practice a mere 24 hours ago, at the moment the wind is howling something fierce, the temperature is plummeting and already the power to Port Swiller Manor has flickered off and on a couple times.  But that’s the Great Commonwealth of Virginny in March for you, a true psychopath, meteorologically-speaking.

Proscribed.  Sorry, old girl.

Proscribed. Sorry, old girl.

Anyhoo, the latest issue of the alumni magazine from the People’s Glorious Soviet of Middletown, CT arrived in the Port Swiller Manor mailbox t’other day.  Idly flipping through it, and also mindful of the launch this week of a new movement to ban the use of the word “bossy” when speaking of girls (said to have been masterminded by friends of She Who Must Not Be Named in anticipation of a presidential run in ’16, although I can’t imagine why), a sobering thought again occurred to me.

You see, the ol’ rag is full of the same sort of Progressivist twaddle I dealt with on campus thirty-odd years ago: the lockstep and jackbooted faux “diversity”, the Orwellian interpretation of “tolerance”, the abandonment of common sense and practical experience regarding human nature, the loathing of Western Civilization,  the willful ignorance of real history in favor of customized personal constructs, the faculty-lounge Marxism.

Once I got over my initial shock in encountering all of this as a freshman (Ed. – That’s freshperson, hater),   I actually didn’t mind it so much.  Constantly arguing against it was kinda fun and actually made me a much better debater because it forced me to dig deeper into the roots of my own beliefs.  Plus, returning to the world of sanity during holidays and sunmahs, I told myself that it was all just a load of idjit college kid bullshite that my fellow students would jettison once they had to go out in the Real World and actually work for a living.

Now, however, it seems I mislead myself.   What was then just the bloviations of a bunch of spoiled-brat campus radicals has somehow become the ethos of the land.   Hence the above-referenced exercise in linguistic coercion.   They used to say that a conservative is a liberal who has been mugged by reality.  I still believe this to be by and large correct.  However, through a series of historickal accidents too complicated to suss out here, the present batch of ex-campus rads holding the levers of power have been shielded so far from the said enlightening mugging.  Unfortunately, this means that the Hurt, when it comes (and it WILL come – Oh, Yes, it will), is going to be all that much more vengeful for having been denied for so long.  And I’m afraid we’re all going to suffer for it.

As for the “bossy” thing itself?  Pffft.   The argument of the campaign, from what little attention I’ve spared it, seems to be that to call a female person “bossy” is to attack her leadership qualities, unfairly smearing them with such a pejorative adjective in an attempt to push her back toward barefoot n’ pregnant status.

In the first place, I can tell you from firsthand experience and observation that there’s a world of difference between a “bossy” woman and a woman who actually leads, and that to conflate the two is a willfully false exercise designed to do nothing more than provide politically-correct shielding for a certain screeching harridan who still must not be named.    (And to the argument that nobody ever says, “John is a really bossy vice-president,” I would answer, “True: what we say is, “John is a real a-hole.”)**

In the second place, couching this thing as some kind of brave stance against the “War on Girlzz” (as the campaign photos seem to suggest) is a piece of exploitative cynicism beneath contempt, and as the father of three girls myself, whose lives I am trying desperately to keep from being politicized and therefore ruined, I spit on it.

Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go get a glass of milk.

¹Of course, if you’re actually reading this, then I suppose my fears will have been groundless.

**UPDATE:  I just remembered the exchange from that most excellent movie, Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, that was floating around at the back of my mind as I typed this:

Bill:  You ditched Napoleon?  Deacon, do you realized you’ve stranded one of history’s greatest leaders?

Deacon:  He was a dick!

So there you go.


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March 2014