by Molly Ivors
(I'll turn Thers's blog back over soon, I promise, but this time of the semester, it's whoever is avoiding a larger pile of papers.)
It must be difficult to be Ann Althouse.
Seriously.
When your dearest wish in life is to be Maureen Dowd and you just can't quite manage it, even in New York, well, that's gotta hurt.
I'm not even going to bother with her latest piece of tripe, which goes back to that same idiotic canard about weasley Rick Lazio getting in Hillary's face and her response to it. It was seven years ago, he was a dick, she's a good senator. End of fucking story.
Had Lazio been elected, as Althouse seems devoutly to wish here, he would
undoubtedly have been arrested in a prostitution sting or for driving
drunk with a 23 year old on his lap or for bribery or dirty IMs by now.
I'm much more interested in the comment thread.
Boys didn't read the Little House books, which I always thought was unfortunate, as they contain many huge honking chunks of actual wisdom, like how to make bullets and cheese, and the dangers of gluing a pig's mouth shut with molasses, and that you can play ball with a pig's bladder (after it's dead, natch), and why you shouldn't use a wooden chimney, even if you're in a hurry. But I was thinking about them in a different context today.
One of Laura's least proud moments was a poem she wrote at 14 or 15 about the woman who would become her sister-in-law. According to the book (Little Town on the Prairie, IIRC), she was frustrated at Eliza Jane Wilder because she was driven, and knew she needed to do well in school to get a job as a teacher. Wilder was an indifferent disciplinarian and listened to Laura's longtime nemesis Nellie Olesen about schoolyard politics. Of course Nellie passed back along the teacher's confessions, including a dark chapter in her childhood involving head lice. So Laura wrote a poem:
Going to school is lots of fun;
From laughing we have gained a ton.
We laugh until we have a pain
At lazy, lousy, Lizy Jane.
Eventually, Miss Wilder is driven crazy by the endless taunting of this poem and steps down. Family holidays must have been a hoot at their place.
Now, what could have brought that up?
Mary said...
1:02 PM
It goes on like that until well after midnight. Ann's defenders pull out all their Big Guns, including calling the dustup a "Catfight!" and this delightful moment: "Anybody else envisioning Mary sitting in front of her computer, Indigo
Girls blasting in the background, alternately cackling at the computer
screen, gulping wine coolers, rapidly typing a new diatribe, gigling
madly, and weaving macrame beads into her armpit hair? Or is it just me?" Odd, from a defender of Queen Winebox. I can see why these people are the ones defining what is and isn't an appropriate use of feminism.
But the Lizy Jane moment comes at 5 am, when Althouse herself wanders back:
I, uh, think you dropped your marbles back there, professor.
I'm not wholly unsympathetic to the idea that a student might glom onto an old professor's blog and become something of a nuisance. But having once had the teacher-student relationship, one would hope that you would engage with the ideas presented, defend your student's right to express them, and try to disprove them through logic. Banning and deleting and allowing your henchmen to attack a young person known to you, gender aside, is bad pedagogy. That Althouse claims to be a feminist and allows so many of Mary's attackers abuse her on basic gender grounds is absurd. I cannot, for obvious reasons, address the substance of Mary's arguments, just the responses to them.
But man, it sure drove Miss Havisham around the bend.
h/t Ntodd
UPDATE:
Wow.
- She really has some professional scruples, doesn't she?
Note to Ann: Banning is a technical process, not just asking someone to go away. You should look it up.