The far-left New York Times required two reporters and around 1200 words to explore the horrors of the shame women feel about defecating on the job. Which can only mean one thing…
What we have here is yet another example of the Times confusing the neurotic behavior of she-babies with an oppressive patriarchy.
The article opens with these three anecdotes, all of which should be filed under First World Problems of the Emotionally Unstable:
There once was a woman who walked regularly from her office in Midtown Manhattan to a hotel across the street in order to use the restroom, and that woman may have been one of us.
That woman had a friend, at another office job, who carried a book of matches and a can of air freshener in her purse — more willing to set off the office fire alarm than leave any hint of odor in a public lavatory.
That friend had another friend, at another office job, who repeatedly forced her body to do the deed so quickly — racing from cubicle to bathroom and back, in an effort to deflect attention from what she might be doing in there — that it led to a semi-serious hemorrhoid problem.
And rather than explain just how great of a country we must live in where a once-prestigious newspaper has the luxury to dwell on such things; rather than use these anecdotes as a cautionary tale so that your daughter does not grow up to be like any one of these three manic bimbos, we are informed that the real problem is *sigh* men:
Poop shame is real — and it disproportionately affects women, who suffer from higher rates of irritable bowel syndrome and inflammatory bowel disease. In other words, the patriarchy has seeped into women’s intestinal tracts. Let’s call it the pootriarchy.
Girls aren’t born with poo shame — it’s something they’re taught.
The “pootriarchy,” y’all.
That got past an editor.
About halfway through, I got the sense that this was less of a ridiculous social justice piece — that not one word of would need to change to score bigtime at the Onion — and more of a fetish piece disguised as social justice. No joke, the two so-called reporters at work here, Jessica Bennett and Amanda McCall, are seriously into their dookie.
Backing up my “fetish” theory is the illustration that comes with the article. We see four bathroom stalls. In the first stall, there are two women in there doing heaven knows what. (Must women do everything in pairs?) In the next stall there’s a guy facing the back wall. The third stall is empty. In the fourth stall, a woman is seated on the toilet with her shoes off, which begs the question…
MY GOD, WHO PUTS THEIR BARE FEET ON A PUBLIC BATHROOM FLOOR???!!
I’m telling ya’, this is a fetish piece. There’s no other explanation. To inform the piece, they even sent out a survey about “fecal habits at work,” which sounds an awful lot like that section of the porn store that tells you it’s time to turn around.
More evidence of is this is that the entire story is premised on the fake news that men are not at all embarrassed to stink up a bathroom or let one rip. Hey, I’ve been married 30 years and am still so mortified I blame it on the dog. At home or abroad, I know of no male over the age of 11 who is not embarrassed by their own stink clouds. I know a guy so embarrassed that whenever he stays with family, he uses a gas station restroom.
“Going out for coffee!’
“There’s coffee right here!”
“Be back in thirty!”
“Why does he need a magazine to get coffee?”
But because the Times exists in a vacuum-sealed world filled with neurotic she-babies who believe that anything that makes them even a little uncomfortable is someone else’s fault, is a social problem that must be solved, is the fault of the patriarchy, and cannot have anything to do with the complexities of the human condition… We get crap journalism like this.
To me, articles like these are just one more reminder of how glorious life is in this country, of just how much peace and unprecedented prosperity we enjoy. There are so few problems in America, the Times has the luxury of assigning two reporters to the dookie patrol.
God, I love this country.