Posted on | October 6, 2016 | 1 Comment
“The vested interests of our age . . . have constructed a wonderful machine, which we shall call the Great Stereopticon. It is the function of this machine to project selected pictures of life in the hope that what is seen will be imitated. All of us of the West who are within the long reach of technology are sitting in the audience. We are told the time to laugh and the time to cry, and signs are not wanting that the audience grows ever more responsive to its cues.”
— Richard Weaver, Ideas Have Consequences, 1948
Failure must have an explanation, and the disappointments of the entitled narcissistic Special Snowflake™ require a scapegoat. It will not do for overprivileged brats to accept that life is not fair, nor can we expect Special Snowflakes™ to take responsibility for their own failures.
How many times do we have to hear variations on the same sad story? College girl goes to a party, gets drunk, then wakes up with a hangover, an impaired memory, no panties, and a profound sense of shame.
“This cannot be my fault!” she tells herself. “I’m a victim!”
Go read the lawsuits filed by more than 100 male students who say they were falsely accused of rape and deprived of their due-process rights in university administrative disciplinary procedures, and you will see this basic narrative repeated over and over and over again: Two kids get drunk and have sex, she subsequently regrets having sex and — invoking the central point of one notorious case — “regret equals rape.”
No one wants to be accused of being pro-rape (or a “rape truther,” to employ feminist Amanda Marcotte’s vivid phrase), and so there is a reluctance to criticize irresponsible college girls too harshly. Because it is easier to remain silent than to express unpopular truths, we find that liars are increasingly influential in academia — hello, Professor Lisa Wade — and common sense is now quite uncommon on campus.
We are expected to believe that college girls in the 21st century are afflicted with an extraordinary naïveté about how sex happens.
“Why are these boys furnishing me with free alcohol?” we must imagine the college girl asking herself, as she downs her ninth drink. “And why does this boy want me to go back to his dorm room at midnight?”
Gosh, honey, this is all a huge mystery to you, isn’t it? You graduated high school at the top of your class, and your parents are paying $60,000 a year to send you to this elite private liberal arts college, so maybe you could do a little arithmetic, add 2 + 2 and tell us what this is about.
Maybe these clever girls could consult the Department of Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies at Yale and ask Professor Kaneesha Parsard to explain why college boys provide free alcohol to college girls. Professor Parsard is teaching a class this fall called “Bodies and Pleasures, Sex and Genders” (WGSS 205), so it’s possible she could give you a clue on this subject, about which college girls seem so clueless.
By the way — and I must point this out — college boys are no less idiotic than the girls. How many times do I have to repeat the same advice? Never talk to a college girl. Before parents send their sons off to college, they should take them to the local tattoo parlor and have that phrase emblazoned in reverse-script on their chest, so that every time the boy gets out of the shower and looks in the bathroom mirror, he is reminded once again: “Never talk to a college girl.”
Feminists have fomented such a climate of anti-male hatred on campuses, that only right male students have now is the right to remain silent. When I shared this advice with a Yale student a few months ago, he said, “But if you don’t talk to girls, they might think you’re gay.”
To which I replied: “And . . . ?”
Who cares what a girl at Yale thinks about anything? It must be presumed that every girl at Yale (or Harvard, Cornell, Princeton, etc.) is wicked, deceitful and selfish — untrustworthy and cruel, apt to make a false rape accusation as an act of spiteful revenge — because the unsuspecting young man who presumes otherwise might be lured into her sexual trap. Shun them all, and don’t even bother explaining why you don’t talk to them. These hideous Ivy League she-monsters deserve no such explanation.
Feminism is the reason college boys can’t trust any girl on campus and, even beyond ideology, I blame it all on The Great Stereopticon:
What has happened, I would argue, is that The Great Stereopticon’s message machine keeps selling such wildly contradictory stories about love and sex to young people that the proliferation of scripts has become schizophrenic. Anyone attempting to live according to the stories sold to them by the Hollywood fantasy factory and the Madison Avenue advertising cartel will discover that these narratives cannot be replicated in the real world, and certainly not without substantial risk of negative consequences. . . .
Read the whole thing at The Patriarch Tree, and remember: Never talk to a college girl. Let them all go to Hell by the path of their own choosing.