The Red Thread

Since its foundation a couple of years ago as a minbar for essays about Cantorian Realism and Trinitarian minimalism,  this blog has wandered rather far afield:  philosophy of science, sensational discoveries of Latin incunabula, prehistoric penguins, cinematic Freudianism, only hemi-demi-satirical celebrations of our former teacher the late and dearly lamented Professor Willard “Van” Orman Quine, blood-pumping revelations about the Riemann Conspiracy (exclusive to this site), one-line poems, and yes, occasionally, malgré nous, dépit oblige, politics.   But through all this  there runs one constant, like a red thread:   Humor.

Earlier today, we updated our tip-of-the-hat to the President’s diplomatic strategy on Syria, with a Tom Toles cartoon presenting a contrary view, mainly because it’s so funny.   And in a similar spirit, we here salute today’s WaPo essay by Alexandra Petri (among our favorite columnists in general), who takes on an often lip-pinched/atrabilious subject-matter with both humor and logic (the twin principles of this site -- never forget logic):

http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/compost/wp/2013/09/11/feminism-is-dead-long-live-feminism/

Although actually, now that I re-read it, it isn’t exactly a contrary view -- more like a parallactic perspective, thus inherently valuable for conceiving the whole.  In fact, I concur with every line of it;  and shook with Falstaffian laughter reading such lines as

Susan B. Anthony didn’t die fighting in the snows of Mount Rushmore so you can complain about being whistled at on the way to Work in your Important Job, where you have yet to encounter any glass ceilings whatsoever! Look at you, achieving things! Feminism complains that it has no shoes, but remember, it used to have no feet!

Fair. But now it has no shoes. This is still a problem.

And

"The patriarchy" is one of those terms that makes you cringe and carries a potent whiff of burning bras.

and

I don’t think so little of today’s feminism as to assume that if the problems it confronts went away, it would continue to find ever-more-specific and tinier things to complain about. I think it would heave a sigh of relief and get back to its, er, whatever the opposite of knitting is.

[Excerpts reprinted, um, without permission.  Sry, my bad.]

So, all told, Ms Petri might not even be too offended by my vitriolic diatribe (still funny, though!) here:

            Manhunt

 

Ah!  Vive la différence quand-même.

 ~

~  ~

The enigma of a woman’s heart,

finally espied  by a Private Eye,

for less than the price  of a Valentine …

This Rose

[Kindle]  [Nook]

Also available in hardcopy, as one of the stories in this collection of previously published and unpublished detective stories:

I Don't Do Divorce Cases