I am still fuming about the Washington Post. Washington Post editor John Pomfret sent an automatic e-mail to all the people who complained about their decision to run that sexist piece of junk (which I refuse to link again, but do scroll down if you haven't read it already). His defense of the decision was that he read her editorial as "tongue-in-cheek".
Well he must have been the only one. Because not even Mrs. Allen herself intended her piece to be interpreted as ironic or satirical. She said so herself in an on-line chat today (again, I refuse to link, but it's not hard to find). The on-line chat was the WaPo's way of placating its readership, I suppose. Giving us a chance to confront the author herself.
But I learned a few years back, when my school put on a performance of The Laramie Project, that there is no use in arguing with outright bigots whose views do not represent even a viable minority of the public. Though there is plenty to dispute about her perspective on her/my gender, my issue is not with Mrs. Allen.
It is with the Washington Post.
Ugh. Looking for links, I become overwhelmed by the response. I think I might faint. (Oh, wait. I did that already. It was at the City Diner. Must have been foreshadowing of my soon-to-surface appreciation for Barack Obama!)
Forget this. It's time to go eat with my boyfriend. Swoon!
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