Brittney and Lindsey Ruin Feminism for the Rest of Us!

My absolute favorite thing about anti-feminists is how they think they’re so smart.  Let’s watch dsmith school Brittney and Lindsey over at Nashville is Talking.

Brittney comments favorably about a post Lindsey wrote about the ridiculousness of having hot chicks work as caddies even when said hot chicks know nothing about golf.

First, dsmith comes in with the Quotation Marks of Justice:

It amazes me why self described “feminists” (Brittany, I don’t know about Lindsey) always have to dump on women who don’t think “oogling” is the same as objectifying.

Both sets of quotation marks in this quote are supposed to alert the reader that both things in the quotation marks aren’t really things that need to be taken seriously.  What’s a little oogling between male golfer and hottie caddie?  What’s this feminism Brittney’s always going on about?  I love, too, how dsmith throws in the “self described.”  As if there’s some outside board who meets twice a year to decide who’s in the feminist club and who’s not.  Oh, Brittney and Lindsey, you poseurs!  You’re not real feminists; you just call yourselves that.

Then dsmith demands to have his or her questions answered.  “For me, please? I want to know what you have a problem with. Seriously, I’m interested.” and “What say you?”  As a rhetorical strategy, it’s akin to dsmith saying, “I determine what is right and wrong.  I hold and am used to wielding authority.  If I can’t see what your problem is, your saying that there’s a problem is never going to be enough for me to take your word for it.”  See, so not only must Brittney and Lindsey have a problem, they must convince the mighty dsmith that their problem is worthy of his or her consideration.

And then he or she again demands that the discussion be held on his or her terms–“I can’t rebut any further until you explain why you said this.”

And, in a genius flourish at the end, dsmith writes:


Do you believe in a woman’s right to choose?

Isn’t the essence of a “woman’s right to choose” is what she can and can’t do with her own body (as long as it hurts no one else)?

I think you so called “feminists” have done women a major disservice.

Either that, or you’re just a hypocrite on this issue.

Holy god, it’s beautiful.  No, just look at it.  There are the Quotation Marks of Justice letting the reader know what things dsmith doesn’t consider even valid.  Then there’s the deliberate misunderstanding of what a woman’s right to choose means, framing it as a general philosophy of life (Like the feminist movement is about turning all women into giant 14 year olds–” I can do whatever I want because I’m a woman and you’re not the boss of me!  You can’t tell me what to do.”) instead of a political stance about reproductive freedom.  Then there’s the insisting that Brittney and Lindsey have done women a major disservice.  And the name calling.

It’s practically a primer on how to argue like a jackass against feminists.

1.  Be sure that the feminists know you don’t take their perspective seriously.

2.  Demand that the conversation go forward on your terms, even though you are not an instigator of said conversation.

3.  Deliberately misunderstand the feminists.

4.  Condescend, condescend, condescend.

Bravo, dsmith.  Bravo.  Well played.

Rex Hammock: The Best Kind of Cheerleader

I read Rex Hammock’s blog pretty damn faithfully and aspire to someday know what the fuck he’s talking about.  But alas, most of the time, I’m hearing about stuff for the first time through him.

Still, I love to read him because, even when I don’t know the particulars of what he’s talking about, I get excited by his enthusiasm.  Hammock brings together things in ways that just make you feel like you’re starting to sense the possibilities of this whole electronic publishing thingy.

I want to kind of let this shit sink in and mull it over and post some thoughts about it, but I’m running late for work and I can’t go another day without shaving my legs (though I considered it), so I’ve got to get in the shower.

So, here’s what’s simmering on the back burner.

  • Ideas vs. execution.  “Someone who does something bad three times still has three times the experience of that other person who (hasn’t done something because it isn’t perfect and is) still dreaming of all the applause.”  (Rex quoting zefrank)

  • Taking on the Nashville Scene.  “That the Scene has two weblogs and some podcasts is not the point — that hundreds of your readers are daily sharing their experiences of living and working and laughing and being entertained and entertaining in your city is the point. Please, don’t fall into the trap of confusing blogging with anything that has something remotely to do with journalism school. It has more to do with having the skills to recognize great barbecue when you taste it — and the thrill of sharing the discovery with a few friends. That, and changing the world.”

  • Again, more possibilities.  “Blogs, vlogs, podcasting, social networking, anything Web 2.0 or New Web or whatever. They are also old news and boring…deal with it. It’s brainpower. It’s great ideas. It’s great writing. It’s creating great music. It’s being funny, or serious, or threatening, or inspiring or educational.”

  • And again with the wisdom.  “Actually doing something is the way you learn what works.”

Shoot.  I don’t have any ideas, but all this makes me wish I did.  Hammock makes me want to go out and try something new and exciting. 

I Guess This Makes Me a Kitchen/Dining Room Witch

I always thought I’d get married right out of college and have me a shitload of kids and then sit at home with the kids and the dogs while my good for nothing (but still hot) husband sat up at the bar wishing to god he’d taken that job at Cat instead of going to work for his sister’s husband, that douche.

Alas, for whatever reason, it didn’t happen.  I am marriage-less and childless though I do like to sit at home with the dog while other people’s good for nothing (but still hot) husbands sit up at the bar wishing to god they had other jobs.

So, I had to come up with another plan.  And my plan now is to be the crazy woman who lives in your neighborhood in the run-down Victorian with the big lilac bushes out front who everyone says is a witch.

And I will be.

I promise, I’ll put up a privacy fence before I go out to dance in the full moon’s light naked, but that’s my goal.

Tonight, because I was feeling happy and adventurous and because I have my car back and it looks just like it did right after the Butcher let that drunk girl give him false insurance information so my back bumper is hinky, I went out to get the fixings for two different dressing oils.

Dressing oils, as you hoodoo dabblers might know, seem to be the biggest scam going in hoodoo.  You need them for everything.  “Rub a candle with ‘get the fuck away from me, scary loser’* oil” or “Rub money oil on your palms and the bottoms of your feet” or “feed your John the Conqueror root with luck oil” and so on.

And you’ve got to find someone to sell you these oils and you spend a bunch of money and you dab it on you and you think to yourself–I think that’s just basil in there.  I could put basil in some oil.

So, tonight I made two dressing oils.  One for love, with rose buds, lavender, red clover, catnip, and damiana and the other for strength and protection–with lavender, vervain, rosemary, basil, and hyssop.

But each made a fuck load.  I’ve got two big jars in my china cabinet filled with mostly baby oil and a little vegetable oil to top it off.  And I have no idea what I’m going to do with it all.  I was planning on giving some to a friend who needed it, but I’ve got enough to get a whole platoon laid and for them to be safe while doing it.

So, next time I’ll make smaller batches.  But I’d also like to find a good oil that doesn’t have much of a smell of its own.  Each mixture of herbs and whatnot had a good distinctive smell and I’d like, in the future, for the oil to smell like that, not like babies or vegetables.  Any recommendations?

Still, I love walking by the china cabinet and seeing it full of woo-woo stuff.  When I become the scary old woman in your neighborhood, I’m going to have one chine cabinet for my great grandmother’s china and one for all my witchy concoctions.



*Not an actual dressing oil, but I suppose we could come up with something that would do the trick.