I’ve heard men say one should never trust someone that bleeds seven days a month without dying, but we think a bit differently on this blog. Never trust anyone that can talk through an endless steaming stream of mouth diarrhea, and don’t trust those that listen to his shit.
It reminds me of this joke I once heard: Why do men whistle on the toilet?
Oh, nevermind. It isn’t an important joke, and anyhow, most people wouldn’t believe in a feminist sense of humor unless we joke about dead babies and sex, the only things feminists talk about. We’re obsessed with abortion and body-hatred. Some believe the two are inherently related when it comes to our dusty feminist uteri.
Which reminds me of another joke: What’s the difference between a dead baby and a rock? No, too tasteless. I shouldn’t. You know what I need? I need some Nair and a joke book. And some Excedrin.
Those who appear to be our natural allies appeal to women during election time, forget about us after the election is over, dismiss us when we call bullshit, demean us when we demand integrity, and then use our bodies to sell their product.
The headache started when I realized that this image isn’t far from the truth; it is the truth.
[UPDATE: Oh snap! It is getting louder in here. And just so we’re clear, I don’t give a shit about the ad. This is about being dismissed by those who are supposed to be our allies. If you haven’t noticed, this from our own, compounded with the endless assaults on women’s rights by the Right, is most disparaging to those of us for whom these issues are not PR abstracts.
And if you have no idea what’s going on and are too put out to follow the links above, here is a decent synopsis.]
[UPDATE II: And if you weren’t done with the circle jerk yet, check Steve Gilliard’s response to a woman who tried to explain why she felt “betrayed” by her supposed political allies.]