The Other McCain

"One should either write ruthlessly what one believes to be the truth, or else shut up." — Arthur Koestler

How About $3 for a Rant?

Posted on | February 8, 2018 | Comments Off on How About $3 for a Rant?

“The most incurably frustrated — and therefore, the most vehement — among the permanent misfits are those with an unfulfilled craving for creative work.”
— Eric Hoffer, The True Believer: Thoughts on the Nature of Mass Movements, 1951

Never push my “rant” button. Trying not to get angry is a daily struggle when I’m up to my eyeballs in feminist insanity. What bothers me, sometimes, is how unnecessary it all is. Most of these young women could have been saved from a life of resentment and misery, if only some teacher during all their years of education had required them to read the right books. Yet our universities are in the iron grip of “progressive” ideologues, and most students finish four years without ever encountering any well-argued criticism of their worldview.

As painful as it is to witness young men permanently ruined by “social justice” indoctrination, it’s just tragic to see an otherwise attractive young woman’s life go to waste because she has been taught nothing but bad ideas about life. Such an example crossed my radar screen yesterday when I glanced at the sidebar on Twitter and noticed that the hashtag #WhyImSingle was “trending.” Clicking over, I noticed among the various responses one that was actually funny and clever, written by a lovely 24-year-old woman who lives in North Carolina. Do I want to expose her to ridicule and harassment? No, I do not, but I was emotionally affected — both sad and angry — at the recognition that this lovely woman was wasting her life.

Rhett: “The cause of living in the past is dying right in front of us.”
Scarlett: “I never heard you talk like that.”
Rhett: “I’m angry. Waste always makes me angry, and that’s what this is, sheer waste.”

Angry. Last weekend, our whole family was together for the first time in a while. Me, my wife, six children, a son-in-law, two daughters-in-law, four grandchildren, my 19-year-old son’s girlfriend, and a few others beside — 21 people for a pasta dinner, and it was wonderful. How is it that our three oldest kids have been able to pair off, get married and begin families of their own while in their 20s, when so many of their generation can’t seem to make it happen? Why has the median age at first marriage for women, which had never been above 23 in U.S. history prior to 1984, now risen past age 27? Whatever happened to happily ever after? What happened to the kind of love that inspired teenage dreams?

Maybe if we think, and wish, and hope,
And pray, it might come true.
Baby, then there wouldn’t be
A single thing we couldn’t do.
We could be married,
And then we’d be happy.
Wouldn’t it be nice?

Perhaps nothing is more important in the lives of young people than their hope for that kind of love, and that teenage dream has been destroyed — a waste of life, which always makes me angry. The North Carolina girl is an English major who wants to be a writer, an idiotic ambition, and the reasons I say it’s idiotic is because I’ve been a professional writer for more than 30 years, and guess what? It’s about the money.



 

“No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money,” as Samuel Johnson sagely observed. If you can make a better living by some other means than writing, you should probably go do that instead. It has been my misfortune, however, that at age 26, I left a perfectly good job driving a forklift to take a $4.50-an-hour job writing for a weekly newspaper, which led eventually to a “journalism career,” as they call it.

What a silly thing to be, a “writer”! What child would ever dream of such a thing, unless they had no other hope in the world? Anyway, this English major in North Carolina pushed my “rant” button:

Feminists are always True Believers. It’s always personal for them. They’ve got an ax to grind, a grievance against the existing social order, and their writing tends to suffer from too many first-person pronouns, like Mein Kampf.
Never mind who it was that inspired this rant. Some feminist I never heard of wrote something that pissed me off, and when I went to check her background on LinkedIn, I saw she was an English major. She seems to have spent a lot of time obsessed with Marvel comics, for some reason, and thinks of herself as a writer. So, yeah, f–k you and your first-person pronouns.
It’s always about you, isn’t it? You’re just like Hitler, who saw in his “struggle” a symbolic narrative of the fate of the German people. Hitler the failed artist believed he was destined to redeem Germany in quite the same way that the feminist English major thinks she’s going to “smash patriarchy.” . . .

Read the whole thing. It’s about 2,000 words, which at a penny per word would be $20. If you like it, perhaps you might want to kick in $3 to buy me a cup of coffee, but whatever you think it’s worth, please remember the Five Most Important Words in the English Language:

HIT THE FREAKING TIP JAR!



 

 

 

Category: Sex Trouble

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