The Worst Kind of Woman
Far away, hard to remember now, in Berkeley in the '70's, I worked for an eminent psychologist, an exquisitely sensitive man with the knowledge to make sense of the nuances and shades he saw around him.
We talked a lot over drinks in those far away days, and it was all very pre-PC. I doubt a married 50 year-old these days would spend so much time in public bars with a 25-year old assistant, and it's too bad because what I needed in those days was a father who could speak my language -- the language of exquisite sensitivities and the desire to figure them out.
That's what I got over drinks in those days, and it's all I got or even wanted.
(One of the beauties of innocence, and its grown-up cousin chastity, is that whe you have either one, you can go where you want and do what you want to do, confident that you will not transgress. Heavens, in those careful days, I was seldom even aware of being tempted ...)
But the point of the story is not how I gained the benefit of these observations, but one of the observations itself. For my friend had studied personality development in young college women. Without knowing whether some wily fox had selected such an enticing study cohort, I'm pretty sure the study was carried out with little dalliance. It was the '50's after all and the ladies in question were privileged. One would have been in trouble trifling with them ...
So we talked often about this study, and I don't remember the details very well because I was so embroiled in the same issues for myself, and not at a sheltered Eastern women's college either.
But there was the occasional observation that surprised me because it answered a question I had not yet dreamt of asking.
So one day -- and remember again that this was long before PC had cleansed our language of some many comparisons, the invidious as well as the profound -- my friend commented: "She is the worst kind of woman."
I had no idea what it meant, and today I don't remember whether we were discussing someone we knew or someone caught in that study like a venomous bug in amber. So all I remember is the phrase, with its intimation that women were given to certain kinds of personal vileness, different perhaps from those that afflicted men and ... and perhaps this was the most trenchant part of the observation ... failings that could be recognized. Studied, catalogued and recognized.
No one thinks like this any more; or perhaps just the more retrograde religious people do. But it's a deep observation and I wish it were more in the public domain these days.
Because one of the "worst" traits of any human is the failure to appreciate the limits of one's authority; and one of the worst traits of women who have been out of the job market for an extended period is to fail to appreciate that there are things they don't know.
Sarah Palin toddled from the soccer field to the governor's mansion, surrounded by family. And when she got there, she used the constitutional powers of the governor to protect her family, with all the passion of a hockey mom rooting from the sidelines.
And that's not the rules of the game; it's not how the game is played, mostly because it's wrong. Political authority can't be used for private gain, not legitimately in a democracy.
In the corruption quagmire of Alaska, it could have seemed to Sarah Palin that getting a temperamental cop fired was not corruption since it didn't involved monetary gain for her personally. That's what she says now anyway, although the idea is a laughable as a point of public ethics.
And even if you believe that it's true -- and Palin's record for truth-telling requires one to deeply discount everything she says -- even if it is true, this is just one more example that the woman is vicious, but not too bright. And she is by no means a fine observer because she still thinks the goal of being in the public domain is to increase and protect her own family, and spread abroad the glory of their family vision. A hockey mom, from a state that is a cesspool of corruption, laying down the law on issues private and public from her self-chosen position at the sidelines of a child's game.
I don't remember what my friend thought was the worst kind of woman, but I think I have found a vivid example.
We talked a lot over drinks in those far away days, and it was all very pre-PC. I doubt a married 50 year-old these days would spend so much time in public bars with a 25-year old assistant, and it's too bad because what I needed in those days was a father who could speak my language -- the language of exquisite sensitivities and the desire to figure them out.
That's what I got over drinks in those days, and it's all I got or even wanted.
(One of the beauties of innocence, and its grown-up cousin chastity, is that whe you have either one, you can go where you want and do what you want to do, confident that you will not transgress. Heavens, in those careful days, I was seldom even aware of being tempted ...)
But the point of the story is not how I gained the benefit of these observations, but one of the observations itself. For my friend had studied personality development in young college women. Without knowing whether some wily fox had selected such an enticing study cohort, I'm pretty sure the study was carried out with little dalliance. It was the '50's after all and the ladies in question were privileged. One would have been in trouble trifling with them ...
So we talked often about this study, and I don't remember the details very well because I was so embroiled in the same issues for myself, and not at a sheltered Eastern women's college either.
But there was the occasional observation that surprised me because it answered a question I had not yet dreamt of asking.
So one day -- and remember again that this was long before PC had cleansed our language of some many comparisons, the invidious as well as the profound -- my friend commented: "She is the worst kind of woman."
I had no idea what it meant, and today I don't remember whether we were discussing someone we knew or someone caught in that study like a venomous bug in amber. So all I remember is the phrase, with its intimation that women were given to certain kinds of personal vileness, different perhaps from those that afflicted men and ... and perhaps this was the most trenchant part of the observation ... failings that could be recognized. Studied, catalogued and recognized.
No one thinks like this any more; or perhaps just the more retrograde religious people do. But it's a deep observation and I wish it were more in the public domain these days.
Because one of the "worst" traits of any human is the failure to appreciate the limits of one's authority; and one of the worst traits of women who have been out of the job market for an extended period is to fail to appreciate that there are things they don't know.
Sarah Palin toddled from the soccer field to the governor's mansion, surrounded by family. And when she got there, she used the constitutional powers of the governor to protect her family, with all the passion of a hockey mom rooting from the sidelines.
And that's not the rules of the game; it's not how the game is played, mostly because it's wrong. Political authority can't be used for private gain, not legitimately in a democracy.
In the corruption quagmire of Alaska, it could have seemed to Sarah Palin that getting a temperamental cop fired was not corruption since it didn't involved monetary gain for her personally. That's what she says now anyway, although the idea is a laughable as a point of public ethics.
And even if you believe that it's true -- and Palin's record for truth-telling requires one to deeply discount everything she says -- even if it is true, this is just one more example that the woman is vicious, but not too bright. And she is by no means a fine observer because she still thinks the goal of being in the public domain is to increase and protect her own family, and spread abroad the glory of their family vision. A hockey mom, from a state that is a cesspool of corruption, laying down the law on issues private and public from her self-chosen position at the sidelines of a child's game.
I don't remember what my friend thought was the worst kind of woman, but I think I have found a vivid example.
posted by Nellmezzo | 8:19 AM
1 Comments:
It's the peep-toe pumps that give her away. So much sexier than sandals. Perfect for the young one looking for a mate or sex partner. In a woman of her experience, they are vulgar beyond belief.
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