Objectify Chicks? No Way, Hombres; I'm Here to Praise Camille Paglia

“Every year, feminists provide more and more evidence for the old charge that women can neither think nor write.”  Camille Paglia in Art, and American Culture: Essays (New York: Vintage, 1992)

"On Tuesday, 18 October 2016, pop star Madonna raised some eyebrows by offering to perform oral sex on voters who cast their ballots for Hillary Clinton." Snopes


Camille Paglia is one of the finest minds in America.  She is without peer as a literary critic and scholar, an honest and clear voice for women, among a screaming murder of feminist crows and a good hearted person.

I read with interest her recent riposte to Madonna's post-Trump election whine that 'no women helped her.'  You see, Madonna beefed recently, again, to the gang at Billboard's Women in Music event:

Madonna made waves at the Billboard Women in Music event with her powerful speech about sexism, ageism, and misogyny, but feminist Camille Paglia is hitting back at the iconic singer for her claims that she was rebuffed when looking for female support at the start of her career.
During her speech on Friday, the 58-year-old recalled wishing for a female peer at the start of career and specifically called out Camille, claiming that the famous writer said she 'set women back' by objectifying herself sexually

I know of Madonna, but I do not know jack about Madonna.  To me she was one of the babes tapped by misogynists to play baseball during WWII, when all the guys went to war in that Tom Hanks movie, that my daughters played over and over and over.

She the gaped toothed blond.

Musically, I am told she is a genius.  Could be, but I am more of an Ella Fitzgerald, Keeley Smith, Lani Hall, Sarah Vaughan and Linda Ronstadt guy,  with a nod to the Babe from the Pretenders - Chrissy Hinds, now and then.  Madonna and most her acolytes are either background noise, or irritants.

Now, to the issue.  Camille Paglia went to bat for Madonna as far back as 1990 and called her a 'true feminist.'  What the hell that means, I am at a loss.  It seems that Madonna is a true feminist in her whining.

The problem stems from objectifying women, I guess.  I do that all time, " Hey, she's pretty!  Lovely Legs!  Gorgeous woman!" and by holding chairs, doors, burdens and regard for the carbon footprints that are in no way, shape, or manner anything like me, my Dad, my son, my uncles, cousins, pals and purchasers of boxers everywhere - owners of Adams Apples Universal.

I dig chicks.

I really dig smart chicks; especially ones with legs up H'yar and capable of tossing a glance that could cut a steel beam in half.

Camille Paglia is my kind of a woman in everything, but the fact she would be about as romantically interested in me, as I would be with Mike Barnicle. Camille, alas, is a daughter of Sappho.  That's cool.

Madonna does not do much for me.  I'd hold the door for her, however.

Oh, yeah!   Louis Prima was married to Keeley Smith.  Lucky guy!

David Wallace-Wells is Not Happy! Trump Has America and Ain't Giving it Back!

Thus says the LORD:
Woe to the city, rebellious and polluted,
to the tyrannical city!
She hears no voice,
accepts no correction;
In the LORD she has not trusted,
to her God she has not drawn near. ZEP 3:1-2, 9-13 

The city was always an asylum. On television on Election Night, the world (sic) they used was bubble. But what a bubble.
New Yorkers woke up on November 8 in what seems now like a fairy-tale fog, convinced, as ever, that the future belonged to us. By midnight, the world looked very different, the country very far away (and the future, too). Eighty percent of us had voted against the man who won, and 80 percent, it seemed, were already hatching plans to leave — for Canada or Berlin or anywhere else we imagined we could live safely among the like-minded. That was when the text messages began coming in from old friends in Wisconsin and Texas and North Carolina and Missouri. They were watching the same returns we were, in the same apocalyptic panic, and all making desperate plans to come to New York. For them, the city was still the same fairy tale. David Wallace-Wells in New York  (emphasis and parenthetical my own)

Boy, are people unhappy that Trump won. I believe that David Wallace-Wells, the author of the passage above and editor of New York magazine, as well as contributing writer to The Nation, Salon, Slate, Atlantic and every other tony, high-brow, damn-your-eyes soapbox of the elite in this country, was so upset that he screwed up the second sentence ( world, for word), as well as got the date wrong for the Dawn of The Donald.

Hey, I am no one to point fingers at the odd typo, or slight misrepresentation, but I am only a 'blogger' and a working stiff. I live in Chicago's Morgan Park, kind of like Queens in New York City. I voted before November 8th, and I was surprised by the election results as Mr. Wallace-Wells, but for different reasons.

Wallace-Wells weeps of waking November 8th in the firm belief that Hillary would continue the defense of abortion, offensive art, illegal aliens, religious suppression in all things, Marxist economics, globalism, endless wars and the American oligarchy.  The Dream denied.  Dang.

That said, Mr. Wallace-Wells writes a pretty nice little rant filled with good-old anti-Irish race cards and KKK memes for those of us voted off-the island of Manhattan by Wallace-Wells and calling the magically once far-flung personalities on the island of Manhattan to flock to the Resistance!

Before Eric Garner and before the ground-zero mosque, before Rudy Giuliani called Chris Ofili’s The Holy Virgin Mary “sick stuff” and before Trump called for the execution of the Central Park Five; before Abner Louima and before stop-and-frisk and before the Crown Heights riots; before Stonewall began with a police raid; before redlining; before the 1927 Klan riot, when Fred Trump was arrested wearing white; before 38 were killed by a 1920 bomb detonated by anarchists outside J. P. Morgan; before 120 died, mostly free black men, mostly at the hands of Irish New Yorkers raging through the city, resisting enlistment in Lincoln’s war to free their brothers; before all that, when Peter Minuit of New Amsterdam legend established the city as a sanctuary for mercenary commerce on a seaboard being settled, in every other colony, by religious ideologues, it was not by war or raid or smallpox but merely by submitting an exploitatively low bid. Those 24 dollars were consecrated into acquisitive legend almost immediately — a fabulous deal, a terrific deal, and also, sort of, a con. It set a template New Yorkers would emulate for centuries, as the city’s big-tent open-mindedness covered something darker: violence of certain groups against others, neighbors exploiting neighbors for the prize of living among one another and maybe even conquering the world. This makes for a very particular kind of tolerance. We tolerate living around bad guys doing bad things, in part because we can always tell them to fuck off. And often do.
Millions of dreamer-hustlers came anyway — from 1892 to 1954, 12 million through Ellis Island alone. Elsewhere in the country, new arrivals had set up shop and claimed primacy where they landed. Here, newer waves just kept coming, swamping the claims of those who came before, wave after wave, Irish and Germans followed by Russian Jews and Armenians and Poles and Czechs and Slovaks and Greeks, tidal waves leveling into ethnic palimpsests of communities so enormous and elaborate they might have been called whole civilizations just 500 years before (Kleindeutschland, the Five Points, Central Park’s black Seneca Village). When the country closed its borders in the spirit of “racial hygiene,” the immigrants were followed by American freaks, fleeing suburbs and parents and finding refuge here.
Native-born New Yorkers can seem precocious marvels to newcomers, but they rarely hold the city’s gaze for very long — ask Andy Warhol (from Pittsburgh) or Madonna (Detroit), Zora Neale Hurston (from Notasulga, Alabama) or Langston Hughes (Joplin, Missouri), Truman Capote (New Orleans) or Dorothy Parker (Long Branch, New Jersey), or even Andrew Carnegie (Scotland) and J. P. Morgan himself (Hartford, Connecticut). Nobody knows any Dutch, which meant nobody has really come first, when you think about it, which means nobody really owns the city, even the obscenely rich who talk like they do. The city is so much a hot spring of immigrants and migrants and arrivistes, self-inventors and refuge-­seekers and self-mythologizers, that no one can ever feel quite comfortable or secure, no matter how royally statused. The churn is eternal and the envy general, like antibodies to complacency. No one is immune to insecurity, not the sons of tycoons or the daughters of mayors or the offspring of artists and musicians raised as downtown royalty on lower Fifth Avenue. Not even the golden-haired boy born into a real-estate fortune in the glorious sun of the white man’s mid-century boom who built a gold-plated empire for himself out of the resentment he felt staring out across the East River at Manhattan from Queens. And who wanted, even more than to conquer the Manhattan skyline, to watch his own tabloid fantasy become “real” in the pages of the New York Post. BEST SEX I’VE EVER HAD is surely, even now, the greatest day of the president-elect’s entire life.

Yep, elites ain't happy.

In a few days, after someone reads this piece to Bruce Dold, I expect that Mary Schmich and Eric Zorn will do a series of similar chit-chatty exchanges about how stupid, ugly, racist, homophobic, non-Dreamers living in Portage Park, Mount Greenwood, Peotone and Crescent City worked that Russian fake news on all of the Hamilton Attendees, Pastor Pfleger Partisans, and Oak Park Rangers making Trump supreme, though losing the popular vote. Damn Alexander Hamiliton, the real one not  Lin-Manuel Miranda, who should be on the Ten Spot rather than that Federalist, and his Electoral College!!!!  

It hurts.

Hey, It gets better.

Journalists will be breaking each others necks to see who will write the Rise and Fall of the Third Reich of this millennium, and activists can sit again at the feet of Bill Ayers and learn about timers and detonators.  It's all good.

Anyway,  David Wallace-Wells invites other Cities, noting that New York is not Guam, but the Philippines:

And we also know that we are not in fact alone — that New York is not an island but an archipelago. Our mayor has resister-cousins in Chicago and Los Angeles and Providence, San Francisco and Seattle and Minneapolis — and those are just a few of the cities mobilizing themselves as immigrant sanctuaries. We know that the number of Democratic counties has shrunk over the last decade or two, as entrepreneurs and other hustlers flooded into cities, and we know that the counties that went blue in this election account for nearly two-thirds of the American economy. We also know that Peter Thiel was basically the only Trumper in Silicon Valley. If you have to live in a bubble, really, you could do worse.

Kerr-Plop, Rahm is already cutting deals and pencil necked geeks of the Valley are paying court to the Grand Fuhrer of Wallace Wells' thought piece. Owwww.

I noticed that David Wallace Wells never mentions Queens.  

How Good Is Snow-Blower Repair Man Mike Greene? My 1994 MTD runs like 2016 BMW

I love the south side culture of " I got a guy."

Needs are fulfilled by word of mouth and respect for the word from a neighbor.

If I were asked by you about stopping seepage in the basement, I bring into my man cave and thrust my finger to east wall and "Behold! Water from the Rock!"  Hell, I am not handy.

Ask me about literature, jazz, history, great places to eat, methods of shirking households obligations ( no problem so big, that I can not run away and hide from it), or treating ladies with fair deference in all matters, I'm your guy.

• Want your furnace looked at?  Call Karen A Mcquillan, (708) 422-0090 and she'll get her old man, Jim, on it Air-Check Heating & Colling.

• Auto Problems? - Go to Kevin Moriarty at Meineke on Western

• Plumbing?  The Kennedy Brothers knock it out of the Park.

• Gutters and Chimneys glutted?  Call Sean Keane at Keane Sweep
• Taxes?  See Pat Biggane

Now, as to leaking basements, I have had my basement sealed three times inside and out. The CSX line runs twenty feet from my front window and the crib shakes like Oprah on a waterbed.  Can't help you. Nothing worked, but the shop vac and Fabrese.

How -some-ever, friends and neighbors, if your snowblower is on the fritz, needs a tune-up or repair, GO AND Call Mike Greene immediately if not sooner.  I called Mike in September and Mike and his daughter picked up my giant sized MTD 1994 purchase, which had beaten back lake effect snow in Griffith Indiana and cleared sidewalks, alleys and driveways here in Morgan Park since 1999.  

I serviced the machine.  Changed oil, repaired the auger and the drive-lines, drained the gas and managed the wheels, but I had not had the whole machine serviced since 1997.

Mike Greene returned (delivered) the snowblower three days later with a modest charge that included straightening the blades, replacement of drive lines, tightening the auger, complete tune up and oil and sparks.  Modest charge.  I keep it on my icebox and look at it when I'm blue.

I just got back from Mass at Sacred Heart and fired up the MTD for the first time. Last week, it was too wet to plow.

The MTD fired up and purred like a kitten (which I also need to replace since Sophie shed her mortal husk).   The plowing was exquisite and I hated to put the thing to rest.

I know that I will have plenty more opportunities today to get behind the plow, but for now,  a huge thank you to Mike Greene, a Proud Member of Operating Engineers Local 150 and a great neighbor.

      

Stapesless Politicians Killed Policing - Chicago is Thug Comfort Zone

"But down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid." Raymond Chandler

"The three smallest bones in your body are all found inside your ear, and you would be completely deaf without them.  Known formally as the malleus, incus and stapes (and informally as the hammer, anvil and stirrup, after their approximate shapes), Natural News

Our problems are First World Problems - "My God! Tom Skilling said we can expect up to ten inches of Snow!  Trump is President!  There's Fake News!  The Cop Thinks I Ran that Red Light - I Know It was Green!"

It is my belief that the only people who should be allowed a beef are First Responders, the only people dedicated to making America remain First World.

I watched a cop get a dressing down from a motorist on Western Ave. at about 110th Street, around 11 A.M., yesterday.   I was walking home from Mr. Swifty Dry Cleaners and could hear the woman who looked and sounded like that smug 'sixty-something' in the AARP commercials. The officer was African American and about thirty years of age and wrote the violation with appreciative good humor.  The woman argued that she had 'not run through the red light' at 109th Street just past County Fair Foods "Big Plans!"

I nodded to the officer in full appreciation for his 'troubles.'

The officer was not chasing a thug, or wondering whether or not he should draw his service weapon and go home at the end of the shift; he was taking lip from a well-heeled harpy with that goofy bumpy sticker that only really nasty-tempered and intolerant people seem to slap on the rump of their roadsters - COEXIST


I went on my way. I don't have any bumper stickers.  I wear my heart on mu sleeve - it is more than just a handkerchief, you know.

I wondered if this harridan had a Blue Ribbon and Blue Light on here porch.  That would really seal the deal.

The cop would go to his next urban adventure.  Ms. AARP would tell everyone at her Book Club about her battle with fascism.  Maybe she gave Ja'mal Green a jingle about a get together.

The cop might be taking rounds on Vincennces at 103rd,  Percy Julian has had more than few stray lead peltings these past few years.

Chicago is a Thug Comfort Zone,  I have been writing those three words since here on Google since 2006.

ChiRaq, Beruit on the Lake, Kosavo on Kostner, it is all the same; not because of Police Officers, or systemic racism, or a Code of Silence, or Commander Burge, but because of mayors and politicians from Jane Byrne, Harold Washington, Gene Sawyer and Richie Daley right up to and including Rahm Emanuel.

Each mayor wanted crime to go away and homicides to disappear, but doing so allowed the Marxists Lawyers and the well-funded university Centers for Law, Journalism, Truth, Wrongful Justice and Revolution kick up public relations, headlines, editorial series, class-action lawsuits, hefty Lefty contributions, controlled narratives and mythologies, while mayors went to ground under Massive Instant Payout Settlements, Blue Ribbon Panels, Task Forces, Musling Officer Testimony, Judge  Shopping, Conversations about Race, Community Policing, Floral traffic medians and access to the fifth floor for Sneed, Marin, Brown, Steinberg, Goudy and Shaw.

The Marxists co-opted philanthropy and the Politicians co-opted Media Faces, all the while allowing police officers and policing to twist in the wind, dry up and blow away.

The Marxists of the People Law Office, Loevy & Loevy, et. al. are going to ambulance chase, agitate, smear and whine.

Government should be something less than boneless, in the face of such assaults. It is not.

Richard M. Daley was shameful.  Rahm is disgraceful.  They have lacked tiniest element of bone mass.  The three smallest bones of the human body are found in the ear - the stapes, being the smallest of the hammer, anvil and stirrup.

Rather than allow themselves to be grouped with police officers involved in the sworn duties as patrolmen and detectives, Daley and Emanuel have crushed individuals and policing itself under the brass wheels of City Hall bus.

The officer taking abuse from Ms. COEXIST near Mr. Swifty's yesterday feels the wheels.

Bruce Dold Tribune Fake News Pillories Woman for A Month - Here Is How to Handle Offensive People

When Black Friday comes

I'm gonna dig myself a hole

Gonna lay down in it 'til

    I satisfy my soul -   SteelyDan

 . . . decades before Shakespeare wrote Macbeth in the early 1600s“dudgeon” was being used to mean a feeling of anger or resentment. OED

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Woman berates Michaels workers in Chicago in rant caught on video

BREAKING NEWS Novemeber 29, 2016
Woman berates Michaels workers in Chicago in rant caught on video
Jessie Grady walked into a Michaels store last week in Chicago to buy a Santa hat for her young daughter. She ended up witnessing — and filming — another customer's "unprovoked attack" in which the woman unloaded on black Michaels employees, claiming she was being discriminated against and declaring...

Bruce Dold's Chicago Tribune December 9, 2016

One woman is menacing Chicago.  She is not an Alpha Female, ripped, tattooed androgynous Marvel Comics paragon with bad wiring.  She is small and seems rather timid, until our $15 an hour barristas, or checkout person makes the mistake of punching that invisible button which causes unfiltered, mean-spirited words and tones to gush from her modest frame.

Citizen Journalists have made life hell for a person who has caused only a checkout person to be showered with GoFundMe largesse.  The woman, whom I will not name, because other citizen journalists with hyper- elevated levels of High Dudgeon* and room temperature I.Q.s have cyber-bullied the young woman enough. There are much worse and more dangerous people out there, racist or not. Many are repeat offenders. High Dudgeon works for NPR types and other comfortable afflictors and they never get enough.

Enough is not a feast!  Bruce Dold gorges away High Dudgeon and he is  editor of a great daily metropolitan newspaper.

The Chicago Tribune's website has taken down stories of rapists, killers, gunmen, grifters and frauds with exacting efficiency in the name of journalism, once the news has passed a few days.  Like the Laquan McDonald shooting at the time it happened, or when Rev. Jesse Jackson threatened to cut the nuts off of President Obama.

Not so the Michael's Menace Maid. 

DNAinfo, The Daily Mail, IGBTNation, Root, Heavy, Facebook and The Chicago Tribune of Bruce Dold  introduced the Menace on November 29th as a Trump Supporter.

A few weeks before an admitted Trump Supporter was beaten and car-jacked on the West Side,  High Dudgeon began to boil in need of a proper response to the heartbreak of Trump and all that it means to Bruce Dold and others.

Black Friday arrived and allowed pent of High Dudgeon to flow like river!

It is weeks since the poor woman went viral on the cashier, but the Chicago Tribune of Bruce Dold maintains the pillory so it stays fresh in the vapid minds of people who need a good jolt of artificial outrage and High Dundgeon.

In the normal world, populated by people of all races, creeds and colors who are far too busy taking care of life, a person's public bad manners gets confronted in a manner that sets things right.

Years ago, 1993 I believe, my wife and I drove up from Kankakee to have dinner at the original Maple Tree Inn owned and managed by the late Charlie Orr.  Maple Tree Inn was one of the very first Cajun restaurants in Chicago and home to the great jazz stylings of the King Fleming Trio.

Charlie hired great wait staff.  He hired a young Irish immigrant girl and on her first day, serviced a table full of Chicago Reader foodies.  The Reader has always been a hipster, in-crowd source for all knowledge.  This table of Yuppies, as the era-tagged them, were loud and needy.  The Irish girl served them with speed and cheerful efficiency.  Mary and I were seated a few feet from their table. One smarmy creep ate like he was going to the chair, talking at the top of his voice and his maw full of catfish, and beefed about how 'inauthentic' his blackened catfish tasted.  He began to abuse the waitress, to the delight of all an sundry in this happy circle of jerks.

The girl asked if she could get him something else.  "What? and wait another twenty minutes?  Are all of you this stupid?  Who is cooking in there? He is no Cajun."

The girl burst into tears.

The table laughed, like the Chicago Tribune editorial board must have, when Ald. O'Reilly demanded that Bully Trump signs get taken down.

Charlie Orr burst onto the scene.  He had been meeting with King Fleming in the Cavern-like basement bar and Kevin the Chef from Louisiana had sent word of the table of shit-heels.

" Charlie had a great Walrus like mustache and smiled like the Beatific Vision itself.  He greeted Mary and me warmly and asked us to stick around for the jazz and a few Steinlagers. He excused himself and warmed the offending table with his Ward Bond of a grin.

" Hello, I am the owner.  Did you like the food?"

Silence.

" My chef served on an Oil Rig as cook and worked under Paul Prudhomme for six years.  I buy fish at Fulton market every morning.  This little girl started this evening and you made her cry.  Now, ( very pregnant pause) Leave what is on your plates and GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY PLACE!"

The Maple Tree Inn was packed and roared with applause and shouts of 'Here! Here!'

The pack of shit heels skulked out.

Today, people record, lawyer up and team up with the News Media - detested by normal people everywhere.

Citizen journalists are becoming as big a set of creeps as Real Journalists, Editors and other merchants of High Dudgeon.

If you are really offended say something and be willing to take a punch in the chops.  Chances are you will not need to accept a blow, because abusive people are generally cowards, or damaged people. You can say something on the spot - Or you can use your phone camera , record and skulk away like a shit-heel.