Don't Get Me Started

The first 15 minutes of Jon Stewart have saved what’s left of my political mind many a night. I watch and I sleep a little better. So I was excited to watch Stewart emcee Comedy Central’s “Night of Too Many Comics”. Wrongo bongo. There were only two women comics – Amy Sedaris and Amy Poehlert – both allowed to sit pretty at the phone banks and both misidentified. The only other woman was Kristin Chenoweth, a fabulous Broadway singer and comic actress who did a number with the insufferable Martin Short. She sang about three bars, he clocked her, she fell to the stage and stayed there for the rest of the bit. It should have been called “Night of Too Many White Male Comics”. I couldn’t sleep that night.
The next morning I read Bob Herbert’s wonderful column, “Why Aren’t We Shocked?” in the New York Times, “Degrading women is the rule, not the exception.” For days the press is agog and aghast about a Florida representative’s inappropriate advances to Senate pages and practically yawns through men’s new open season of rounding up schoolgirls and shooting them down. There’s only one woman on the Supreme Court. If you look at the sports pages, no women ever play sports. According to the obit page, not many women even seem to die. “Boy crisis”? my feminist ass. Wars everywhere, nuclear threat unleashed, environment deteriorating. If this is the best that guys can do, then it’s time for them to get out of the way. The only reason Hillary Clinton could not get elected in this country is sexism. Pure and simple. I tell people I’m for Hillary. Then I like to bust their craven, unquestioned sexist chops. Try it. Mae West’s said it best, “Most men want to protect me. Can’t figure out from what.” Challenge the dominant paradigm. Get hysterical. You’ll feel better.