It's Double Dactyl Time!

Inspired by this contest in The Spectator, I've composed this bit of doggerel for our empty-headed prime minister:

Phonily-phonily
PM J. Trudeau he
Says that he's sorry 
For egregious sins.

Sounding verklempt as he
Croaks his apology.
A drama queen, surely, 
Who grovels and spins.

What Tolstoy Knew

This bit from Anna Karenina, which I am re-reading for a course I'm taking, makes clear that that modern day division between the hedonists and the squares--between the Harvey Weinsteins and the Ben Shapiros--isn't so new after all:

In [Vronsky's] Petersburg world people were divided into two quite opposite sorts. One--the inferior sort: the paltry, stupid, and, above all, ridiculous people who believe that a husband should live with one wife to whom he is married, that a maiden should be pure, a woman modest, and a man, manly, self-controlled and firm; that one should bring up one's children to earn their living, should pay one's debts, and other nonsense of that kind. These were the old-fashioned and ridiculous people. But there was another sort of people: the real people to which all his set belonged, who had above all to be well-bred, generous, bold, gay, and to abandon themselves unblushingly to all their passions and laugh at everything else.

Tolstoy, of course, is being facetious here. He actually thinks the hedonists are ridiculous and the squares are the ones to admire, a fact that makes the passage all the more delicious.

"Linda Sarsour Loves Me; She Loves Me Not"

It's the latter, clearly.

Mattel's Hijab Barbie "Cute" and "Progressive"? Not So Much

Robert Fulford sets the toy company--and everyone else--straight:

In those countries [where hijab-wearing is a requirement], regions or neighbourhoods, the future for girls is narrowly circumscribed. As they grow from childhood to maturity they often find it hard to get an education, a job or a personal bank account. A woman realizes eventually that she’s not to be seen in public with an adult male, unless he’s her husband or a close relative. A girl’s husband may be chosen by her family. Women may have their own ambitions but the key choices in their lives are not theirs to make. 

Theresa May's Double Talk

"There are those who conduct acts of terror in the name of islam but it is not in the name of Islam."

Update: More double talk--Justin Trudeau on the topic of FGM.

Fun at the UN: It Passes a Slew of Anti-Israel Resolutions on the Occasion of Its "International Day of Solidarity With the Palestinian People"

It would make more sense to call it what it really is--an international day of solidarity with those who wish to erase Israel from the map. But I guess that's too much on the nose for the UN's Zion-loathers, who prefer to disguise their longings in the sheep's clothing of euphemism.

You'd Think That One Would Be a No-Brainer

HASSAN: Trudeau's famous inclusiveness shouldn't be extended to terrorists

Phyllis Chesler Guests on Tablet Podcast "Unorthodox"

Listen to it/her here.

Update: "Dr. Phyllis Chesler’s book is a reminder of what fighting for women actually means."

Blame The 6ix?

Shocking news, Toronto: we just got nuked...by South Park. (It's shocking that the show is still on the air, I mean.)

What's the Least Sexy Thing EVAH?

It's got to be Matt Lauer's "huge bag of sex toys."

Yuck!

Update: I predict the next media personality to be fired for inappropriate sexual antics will be (drumroll, please) Geraldo Rivera. 

Rivera has boasted about sleeping with 1,000 women, which rather raises the odds that at least some of these encounters weren't entirely consensual.

Sandra Dee Redux

Remember back in the 70s, when the musical Grease heaped withering scorn on the social mores of the 1950? More specifically, I refer to the song sung by the character Rizzo at the girls' sleepover party, the one where she mercilessly mocks nice girl Sandy's "purity."

You recall it, don't you? It goes like this:

Look at me, I'm Sandra Dee
Lousy with virginity
Won't go to bed
Till I'm legally wed
I can't, I'm Sandra Dee 

Watch it, hey, I'm Doris Day
I was not brought up that way
Won't come across
Even Rock Hudson lost
His heart to Doris Day 

I don't drink or swear
I don't rat my hair
I get ill from one cigarette
Keep your filthy paws off my silky drawers
Would you pull that crap with Annette 

As for you, Troy Donahue
I know what you wanna do

You got your crust
I'm no object of lust
I'm just plain Sandra Dee 

Elvis, Elvis, let me be
Keep that pelvis far from me
Just keep your cool
Now you're starting to drool
Hey, fungu, I'm Sandra Dee

Sandra Dee was supposed to be as passé as they come. Today, however, as Bruce Thornton points out in this insightful essay, the current moral panic re men behaving badly seems to have brought out the Sandra Dee in our womenfolk:

So here we are, watching self-proclaimed feminists who once sang “I am woman, hear me roar,” but now cower like Victorian ingénues, whimpering victims who turn to the statist Big Daddy for protection and redress. 

Obviously, sexual violence against women is a despicable crime to be severely punished. Men who use any sort of coercion to obtain sexual favors are cads and creeps whom every respectable person should look on with contempt. But apart from the charges of sexual violence, the bulk of the current sexual harassment complaints involve clumsy flirting, juvenile humor, unwanted touching, unsolicited sordid cell-phone pictures, sexual quid pro quos, and other techniques of the inept sexual suitor.

In other words, these women thought they were Rizzos, but all along what they really wanted to be was a Sandra/Sandy. Which makes the musical's denouement that sees Sandy transforming into a been-around-the-block-more-than-a-few-times tough/slutty Rizzo type in order to land her man all the more ironic for us, when the cry "keep you filthy paws off my silk drawers" seems to have made a dramatic and unexpected comeback.