The next thing I’m going to do is carve one of the longer gourds into a perfect replica of the Mayflower as a shout-out to our Pilgrim forefathers. Then I’m going to do lines of blow off its hull with a hooker. Why? Because it’s not summer, it’s not winter, and it’s not spring. Grab a calendar and pull your fucking heads out of your asses; it’s fall, fuckers.
When I was 8, I was confused about being called ‘bossy’ because I wanted to direct the plays that we would put on for our parents. But the boys were not. When at 14, I started to be sexualized by certain elements of the media, when at 15, my girlfriends started dropping out of their beloved sports teams, because they didn’t want to appear ‘muscle-y,’ when at 18, my males friends were unable to express their feelings, I decided that I was a feminist. And this seems uncomplicated to me. But my recent research has shown me that feminism has become an unpopular word.
…Rep. Matt Salmon (R-Ariz.) appeared at an event organized by the No Labels organization – yes, that No Labels – and said something similar about the bygone era he still longs for. “I started my stint under President Bill Clinton,” Salmon said, “and I’m the opposite party and I’d give my right arm to have him back right now.”
It’s possible some younger news consumers have limited memories of the era, but in the 1990s, most Republicans in Washington woke up every morning with a fairly specific goal: trying to destroy the Clinton presidency. It was an era in which Tom DeLay ran a scorched-earth campaign against the White House. It was an era in which Newt Gingrich shut down the government because Clinton made him use the wrong exit on Air Force One. It was an era in which Dan Burton, the then-chairman of the House Oversight Committee, felt compelled to shoot melons in his backyard in the hopes of proving that there were murderers in the White House. Republicans not only ran attack ads against congressional Democrats who voted with Clinton, Republicans’ hatred for Clinton led them to quite literally impeach the president for highly dubious reasons.
When some cultural critics fret about the “ever-more-appalling” YA books, they aren’t trying to protect African-American teens forced to walk through metal detectors on their way into school. Or Mexican-American teens enduring the culturally schizophrenic life of being American citizens and the children of illegal immigrants. Or Native American teens growing up on Third World reservations. Or poor white kids trying to survive the meth-hazed trailer parks. They aren’t trying to protect the poor from poverty. Or victims from rapists. No, they are simply trying to protect their privileged notions of what literature is and should be. They are trying to protect privileged children. Or the seemingly privileged.