I Am Ridiculous

It’s true! At least, according to the media, the Democratic Party, and of course, the man even our bought-and-paid-for press corpse is starting to call the “presumptuous nominee.”

I’m not ridiculous because I’m a PUMA, though. I’m ridiculous first, because I’m a woman, and second, because I’m a woman who refuses to do what Daddy tells me to.

You know, there’s just something so icky about being a woman anyway. And kind of embarrassing. I mean, I look down at my body, and I have two bumps where I don’t need them, and I’m missing a critical bump somewhere south of my belly button. Ewwwwwww, what’s that about? If only I had that bump, I could be in charge. I could do whatever I wanted to and no one would think it was ridiculous.

Look at George W. Bush. This man has the manners of a pig in slop. He talks with his mouth full, he farts, he calls his right-hand man “Turd Blossom,” he gives the Chancellor of Germany a shoulder rub, he can’t keep from invading peoples’ personal space. Of course, his Bushisms are legendary.

Yet is he ridiculous? Why no. For most of his horrific Reign of Error, no one in the press or the Democratic Party questioned this man’s credibility or right to be in his seat. He has that scrap of flesh hanging off his pelvis, so he must be respected.

Of course, Hillary was not in possession of that precious penile attachment. Open season, baybee! Let’s talk about her hair, her “cankles,” her cleavage, the horrifying spectacle of a woman growing older in office! Let’s talk about her coldness, her crocodile tears, her laugh, her ambition, her similarities to your “psycho” ex-girlfriend, her (supposed) menstrual cycle! Hahahahaha! Ooooh, it’s just all so delicious!

And when women object to this treatment of a woman who has attained a level of success matched only by a few others in our vast country of 300 million people? Why, we are just imagining it. We white women are a problem you just have to live with. How can Daddy fix it? You want a kiss, sweetie? Or maybe you just need to be taken into a room by a man and only one of you comes out?

Well, my lovelies, take a look at what you have wrought. Are you proud of yourselves?

Look at your Beloved, Obama, strutting around Europe as if he were already the President. Look at how poorly he’s doing in the polls (recently dropping to 4 points behind McCain in Likely Voters) now that he doesn’t have the Queen of All Vaginal Dentatae, Hillary Clinton, to demonize. Look how pompous and arrogant and empty he is. Look how little he has to offer for all the promises he has made. Barack Obama is the poster child for preening, unearned, overweening male pride. No wonder he sends a thrill up fellow traveller Chris Matthews’ leg.

The awakening of PUMA is exactly what the terrified little boys who love Obama are afraid of. The idea that women will some day look around and realize how much power they really have makes them simply crazy with terror.

And the fact that men, real men who are comfortable with female empowerment, have joined the movement? Well, how many times have you even seen the fact that some PUMAs are men even acknowledged by the media or the Democratic Party or (Heaven forfend) the presumptuous nominee himself?

My dear little FanBoyz of Obama, members of the “I Hate Hillary Just Because” club, you are the ones who are ridiculous. And you’re starting to know it, aren’t you?

How does it feel to look in the mirror and realize that people are laughing at you? That you have prostituted yourself for a man who is Just Not That Into You?

I hope that feeling is as painful as it deserves to be. Because thanks to your actions, we are thisclose to being deprived of the only candidate this year who is experienced, qualified, willing and able to lead this country out of Bush’s abyss.

Why?

Because she is ridiculous.

Did you need to ask?

Cross-posted at Oooh, nuance!