By Lord Clovis Bullington -Culture And Etiquette Editor
To our best recollection she was decked out in a Candy Apple Red/ Fairy Tale Pink vagina getup and toting a crude sign upon which was scrawled in Granny Smith Apple (9DE093) Crayon : I AM NOT AN OBJECT . Why the color scheme remains vivid is at the time she happened to be clashing with our view of a truly inspirational Paul Stuart window display premiering their Fall line of White Privilege Smoking Jackets.
Rather than edging her gently aside with our cane –and risk soiling the tip—I directed Snavely, my valet, to give her some Halloween Candy and attempt to convey in mime or simpleton language that Trick or Treating is more welcome in suburban locales and commonly only on the last day of October. He returned later with a nasty bruise on his lip retailing some farfetched tale –the details of which escape us presently—but we do recall making a mental note to cut his rum ration in half
Fast forward to the day after the Presidential Inauguration and to what we originally dismissed as merely another “National Cunt Day In Panderstan.” Although the demonstration spread from DC to other metropolitan areas as quickly as impetigo in a Puerto Rican gang bang , what all the foofaraw amounted to , as we short formed for our entourage at the time , is this : millions of overfed and badly educated upper middle class Daddy’s Favorite Little Pouty Cake Angels hit the streets titivated in vagina costumes or equally appalling “pink pussy caps” to declare themselves victims simply because the Portly Pantsuit lost out on her last chance to munch carpet in the Oval Orifice Plus, of course, there was the usual intoning of the all-too-familiar list of grievances we hear whenever there is the distinct tang of fish in the air and the Clitorati is on the bull horn . AND —need we add ? – frequent outbursts of free range insanity by individual acolytes of various covens on topics they felt they’d shortchanged during their monthly “Days of Rage”
But though our assessment was well received by the assemblage that evening at the Goose & Gherkin (our local) –and in rereading remains faultlessly articulate and witty –as Culture and Manners editor, it is our duty to emphasize that in all dealings with the dumber sex, wit must always take a backseat to self –preservation.
As we always say : the male verb is TO-DO, the female verb is TO HAVE and as long as we let them have what they want we can usually do as we please.
In this case , however , we believe a gentle reproof is more than called for and suggest the following :
If confronted by one of these females , especially in one’s household or if they’ve infested your workplace, do not encourage their wrath by rolling your eyes or elevating an eyebrow. Instead , smile warmly and strike a thoughtful pose — then repeat word for word :
“Often when we find ourselves in a quandary on matters of philosophy and/or deeper concerns, rather than automatically reaching for Nietzsche’s Bedside Reader , The Wit and Wisdom of Cotton Mather or The Essential Vince Lombardi , the truth is , more often than not, we find ourselves asking : What would Dear Old Marie Antoinette do ?
“And recently it occurred to us that when that totally misunderstood great lady , grossly besmirched by history , was ascending the steps leading to the guillotine , if only she’d worn a simple but tasteful sex organ on her head and explained her issues to the peasants . Did they have the slightest clue about the 2000 windows she had to keep clean at the Palace of Versailles ? The problems she must have had dealing with high maintenance French servants ? Is there any doubt the peasants would’ve felt deep guilt and asked her to keep on keeping on ? And do you have any doubt she and her beloved Louis would’ve ushered in such a Golden Age that even in this country we’d have given up on all the foolish pretensions of democracy and perhaps witnessed a woman with all the intelligence and sensibilities of , say , a Hillary Clinton ascend to the throne?”
Then sigh deeply and add “For all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these ‘It might have been.’”
It will no doubt take them weeks to understand you’re fucking with them , but at least you can feel you’ve made your point.