The Anchoress

I see, thanks to Michelle Malkin that conservative women are officially fighting back in addressing The Vagina Monologues.

Well…have at it, if you must, ladies, and God’s best to you. But I’m convinced that to address that play or Eve Ensler with anything approximating seriousness and deliberation is to give the whole Vagina Endeavor a patina of credibility and seriousness it simply does not deserve.

Eve Ensler’s foul-mouthed, talking, raspberry-blowing,”goodraping,” hiccupping, whining, slobbering, sloppy drunken vagina of a play really, really deserves nothing but your scorn and your cheerful, energetic mockery.

Someday, I’d like to organize a group of conservative women to go see a performance of The Vagina Monologues. We would go equipped with kazoos, and every time a vagina spoke, we would kazoo a sad or happy tune, depending on the vagina’s story.

Because whenever I think of Eve Ensler’s Talking Vaginas, all I hear are…kazoos! Tootoootoooot! Bahtooot! Bahtoot!

Breeders Infected with Feeders
Maxed Out Mama
Myra Bradwell and Eve Ensler’s Stomach

UPDATE: Maxed Out Mama has coined a new term: Vaginahabi Jihad.

I am so jealous.

Maxed Out Mama can always be counted on to find the post you would be sorry to miss and this time she found it at Pedro the Quietist who reveals that the new affront to some leftists are….babies - or, as they are referred to, a parasitic blastocyst - an opportunistic, parasitic infection!

Appearance - It is tough, if not impossible, for a woman’s body
to be as tight and firm as it was prior to the pregnancy.

[Ed.(Pedro) - My choice for Constitutional Amendment #28: the State should preserve the woman’s right to have a hot, tight, and firm body forever.]

This is true of her abs, her butt, her breasts and her vagina. On top of that,
she may also have hair loss, acne, stretch marks, rashes, varicose veins, and a
scar from a c-section. Now I know that appearance shouldn’t matter, but it does.
We live in a society where appearance is important and a woman’s appearance is
permanently changed by being pregnant.

Death - According to the CDC, there are between 300 - 500 pregnancy-related deaths per year in the
US.

[Ed. (Pedro)- it’s an epidemic! Why are we so worried about H5N1 when there are plagues already among us!]

Read it to believe it. Pedro does a good job of mocking/fisking the bizarro rant, and Mama wonders if work, or stress or other inconveniences that affect your body and mind should be overthrown.

Me? My alarm bells began to ring when I read the part about babies stretching out and therefore damaging the tonality of the vagina. I know how serious these folks are about their vaginas! They write to me - often - discussing the integrity of the vagina and the superiority of the vagina over any and all other sexual musculature/organs. How can their vaginas sound their barbaric yawps if the elastic integrity of that gritty little number is compromised? What would that sound like, anyway? Yaaaaaawwwwwpppppfffpppfffpppffffpffffp?

Would it sound like an under-inflated innertube slapping the pavement? Pahflawp! Pahflawp!

I can understand how someone with a vagina formerly as taut and battle-ready as Xena, the Warrior Princess’ ab muscles would be tremendously put out if she delivered a child and suddenly found that her vagina - once the sounding bugle of the brigade, calling all members - suddenly sounded like the Big Surprise Cake in the old Little Rascals movie: Boomp! Mmwaaah! Boomp! Mmwaaah!

I’m at war with people who take their vaginas this seriously, whether male or female! (Yes, there are men who carry on about vaginas. I know a man who, after watching his wife deliver their firstborn said to the doctor, “maybe you could slip a few extra stitches in there, you know, tighten it up?” To this day, you can hear it on the video, and to this day his poor wife shoots him a look that should have had him singing castrato years ago.)

Sometimes I wish F. Scott Fitzgerald were alive today, because if he were, I am sure he would be blogging, and I think he would be vastly amused at both the left and the right - but I think he would take especial joy in eviscerating moonbeams who carry on about the looming threat of the disease of pregnancy. I think he would read that and write: “So they beat on, and on, waves against a stricken vessel - mentally masturbating as they look for the green light, convinced it stands for them, that it flashes a message only they understand: “you are even smarter than natural law…you are little gods and goddesses, aren’t ya? Aren’t ya?”

You’re all so smart, you can even become virgins all over again. Voila!. H/T Klaire.

Hmmmmm….and maybe, just maybe, the hymen - so long thought to be a useless, value-less part of the body - is worth hanging on to, and even has meaning?

UPDATE: Kobayashi Maru has an interesting take on “breeders” and their effect on the environment which is very interesting, and also informative. It makes sense that the air being CLEAN would allow more warming on the earth.

Or something. (H/T Tongue-tied.) No, REALLY.

Longtime readers know I have issues - loud ones with The Vagina Monologues and the way it is used to (gag me) “empower” women while (gag me more) deconstructing St. Valentine’s Day, a lovely day of chocolate and more chocolate and corny love poems, into “V” day - all about how women are Victims of Violence from those troublesome men that folks like MoDowd say we don’t really need.

Now we have to read about happy and angry vaginas?

Honestly, this makes me want to plop my giddy vagina down in a bucket of Guinness and let it slurp away, until it’s singing “When Irish Eyes are Smiling” and whistling the refrain. And don’t think it can’t do that! I have an astonishingly supple and good-natured, warrior vagina that can smack the hell out of all the sappy, happy, whiney and anggrrrry vaginas around here, without even trying. Kegel muscles, baby, they rock!

Cheers!

Every year, in preparation for Valentine’s Day (V-day, or Vagina Day in politically correct, whack-a-doo feminist enclaves) various college campuses, community centers and umm, Unitarian churches prepare to use the occasion not to celebrate an early Christian Martyr, but to suggest that every woman is a martyr of sorts, a lone upholder of vaginal integrity, thrown into a tarpit of bubbling male lust and violence.

Right on schedule, comes this story re the University of Oregon, which is undergoing some unusual pains and contractions as it attempts to deliver yet another year’s version of this mediocre beast of a play, The Vagina Monologues, the Eve Ensler mess that has made her a latte-drinking-world-problem-solver on the basis of her overuse of the word Vagina. This is a play that allows boomer women and their like-minded offspring to feel cutting-edge and daring as they routinely act like 5 year olds sitting around a table giggling and feeling naughty because they are getting away with saying “poopy-head.”

I recall reading once that a NY production of the piece ended with actress Glenn Close encouraging the audience to join her in a ferocious chant of the “C-word,” (don’t make me spell it out) which turned rather savage, women grunting and breaking out into tears and sweat as they chanted and churned; it was considered a moment of some cultural import that various luminaries such as Oprah Winfry, Brooke Shields and Marisa Tomai took part in the Great C*** Chanting of NYC that particular year.

Hattip to Polipundit for bringing Taranto’s piece to my attention. This story is mind boggling. In part:

In February we noted that a kerfuffle had erupted at the University of Oregon over a production of “The Vagina Monologues,” with protesters objecting to the lack of “diversity” in the show. We’re pleased to report that hilarity has ensued as a result of the efforts to head off problems in this year’s performance. The result, as recounted in the Daily Emerald, a student newspaper, is a perfect story of political correctness:

The producers will not hold auditions. Last year, says “Women’s Center spokeswoman” Stefanie Loh, “the fact that they had auditions means that some people are automatically excluded.” Instead, the “Women’s and Gender Studies Program” will nominate potential cast members.

Producer Nicole Pete says that last year, “the queer community, the women of color community and the plus-size community did not feel represented,” and she plans to remedy this by selecting performers who are ” ‘not necessarily drama-oriented’ in favor of ‘people who work (toward) ‘The Vagina Monologues’ mission of ending violence against women.”

“All parts in the script calling for women of color will be played by women of color,” reports the Emerald. Says Pete: “That was one of the big concerns last year was that a white woman portrayed a woman of color.” Presumably it will be all right for a woman of color to portray a woman of pallor.

There’s one big problem, however: “It will be more difficult to ensure that women who identify with the queer community participate in the production. ‘That’s where it gets kind of tricky,’ Pete said. ‘I don’t think we can legally ask anyone what their sexual orientation is.’ Instead, the producers will inform a potential actor that a particular part is a ‘queer role’ and ask, ‘Do you feel that this represents you?’ ”

So that we all understand: The liberal celebration of mediocrity (in the name of inclusion) continues apace. Rather than exclude untalented actors, there will be no auditions - instead the most politically correct, most committed, the hardest working women for the cause will be “nominated.” How pure. So, those women who have so little going on in their lives that they can donate the most time to feminist-victim-whinery will now fight for the right to act, and badly. I hate to tell you this, ladies, but someone is STILL gonna be excluded. Idiots.

All I know is this: I do not want to watch a plus-sized (or anorexic) politically correct lesbian (or non-lesbian) of any color, persuasion, ethnicity (or lack thereof) carry on to me about “lesbian-good-rape” or first periods, or those ol’ debbil mens! I do not want to repeat an experience of my liberal days, where I get to listen to some idiot woman in the row behind me suddenly stand up and exclaim, “Oh, my Gawd! I’m thirty-five years old, and I’ve never seen my cervix!”

My vagina and me, we’re just fine as we are. My vagina is exclusive - do you hear me, EXCLUSIVE - given over for the enthusiastic romping and procreating of one good man, and the deliverance of two blessed other good young men. My vagina is no weeping sister of eternal caterwauling! I do not have to keep my legs crossed in order to muffle the sound of its distress! The walls of my vagina do not thwack together in hiccuping hysteria and hyperventilation at the cruelty of men and unenlightened women. Tampons are my friends! My non-queer, unagendized, non-inclusive, politically incorrect, focused warrior vagina could beat hell out of any other pansy-assed, whiney, mediocre, liberal vagina in the whole wide world!

In fact, I am ready to launch my barbaric yawp of a vagina into the University of Oregon’s neighbor, Washington State, where the ongoing attempt to steal a Gubernatorial election for the Democrats is starting to really piss my vagina off!

Fear me, liberals, fear The Vagina of Common Sense, The Vagina of Staggering Competence, The Vagina of Victory! Don’t make my Vagina come into Washington and smack you silly, because after reading that item, it is feeling mighty tempted and rambunctious! To arms! To arms! Gird thy vulvas! Equip thy clitorae! Now, onward, Vaginas, to Victory!

UPDATE: Welcome to you Captains Quarters visitors, and hearty thanks to the Captain, himself, for the link! It feels like Christmas-come-early!

UPDATE II And welcome all you Baldilocks-ers. What a treat! Thanks, Baldi!

UPDATE III And, finally, a big shout out to all you folks coming over from Polipundit. Polipunditers? Polipundits? Anyway, welcome, and thanks, Lorie, for the link!