C'mon Hillary!! Let's Get Some Shoezz!!!

Well what a relief! It seems I don't need my vagina to vote after all.

I just need to let my giggly, girlie emotions take over my puny, pathetic intellect -- and claim Hillary as my BFF!

"Searing political questions resided behind what Young called her “simple, honest, genuine” query. Could she “relate” to Clinton? Was she likely to find a “friend” in a woman with a camera-ready helmet of hair? Could she learn from Hillary? Could they share beauty tips? Would her gesture toward female bonding be well-received and perhaps met with the kind of positive mirroring of which Best Friendships Forever are made?"

The heaping helpings of sexist tripe that I've consumed this week in the aftermath of New Hampshire have been grueling, and it's doubly discouraging to see this kind of crap coming from a woman.

At this point, I wouldn't be at all surprised to have someone tell me not to "worry my pretty little head" about the election.

I would probably punch them in the face -- but I wouldn't be surprised.

"Feeling – not thinking – becomes all-important when you have a field of candidates who aren’t really all that different from one another politically."

Oh really? The candidates aren't all that different politically? Hmmm. Cuz I thought -- you know -- that they were -- but what do I know? I'm a woman.

It's probably my "womaness" that also leads me to believe that a close race in a treacherous time might actually mean that it's more important than ever to think hard about which candidate gets my vote.

To her (almost) credit, Warner starts her closing paragraph with this:

"I don’t for a moment begrudge Hillary her victory on Tuesday. But if victory came for the reasons we’ve been led to believe – because women voters ultimately saw in her, exhausted and near defeat, a countenance that mirrored their own – then I hate what that victory says about the state of their lives and the nature of the emotions they carry forward into this race. I hate the thought that women feel beaten down, backed into a corner, overwhelmed and near to breaking point, as Hillary appeared to be in the debate Saturday night.

I mean, there's almost a moment where she looks into the real results of misogyny in women's lives there -- almost -- and just as I'm thinking "Yes, Judith! Write about that! Get to the core of it!", she picks up her own sexist cudgel, and sours me forever with this closing line:

"And I hate even more that they’ve got to see a strong, smart and savvy woman cut down to size before they can embrace her as one of their own."

Because you know how we are -- so petty and bitchy and back-biting and jealous and self-sabotaging and pitiful and stupid. Oh, and emotional. (How could I forget that, this week of all weeks? -- Ooops! Must be my hormones!)

Sorry this post is so brief -- I've got to take my giggly, girlie self off and finish the multi-user database I'm building, read that book on Quantum Physics, and dot the i's and cross the t's on my sermon for tonight on Rational Spirituality -- after I bake some cookies and have a good cry.