Blame Joan of Arc

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WASHINGTON, D.C.
My photos of “Slutwalk DC” got zapped — “It was a glitch! It was a technical malfunction!” to quote Gus Grissom — while I was trying to load them from the disc of my wife’s camera, which I was using because my faithful pink “Barbie cam” is broken.

So you won’t get to see the photos of Celine, the topless feminist with nice pink nipples, or Eliana, the long–legged George Washington University coed who made the march while wearing black lingerie and high heels. And like I said, I blame Joan of Arc for this.

The march began at the plaza around the African-American Civil War Memorial at the corner of Vermont and U Street. When I arrived, the strumpets and hussies and harlots were gathered around, brandishing their signs and, of course, their breasts. By my count — and trust me, I’m a professional journalist — four women made the march topless, but Celine’s were certainly the nicest pair.

Celine is a 25-year-old blonde from Baltimore, nerdy and pale, not particularly beautiful but not unattractive.

Did I mention she was topless? And she has nice pink nipples?

On her chest she had written, with red lipstick, “Still not asking for it.”

Celine was wearing geek glasses and struck me as trying to seem more at ease than she actually was. When I asked permission to take her picture, she said, “Thanks for asking my consent.” Honestly, I felt kind of bad for her, as I objectified her with my male gaze.

Well, a picture would be worth a thousand words, but as I say, the cursed camera failed me, and so words are all I have for you.

Guys who’ve dated around a lot (and, hey, I used to be a Democrat) know the pleasant surprise when you score the hook-up with a chick like this, the “nice girl” type who may not seem superficially sexy, but once she gets naked . . .

Well, I married one of those, and thus perhaps have a special appreciation for the type. If you met Celine, clothed, you probably wouldn’t be too impressed. But topless? Hey, nice pair.

Maybe not quite a full C-cup, but at least a generous B, and did I mention her nipples? Pretty sure I did.

Not that I said any such thing to her, and I didn’t even stare as I interviewed Celine for The American Spectator column I’ll write later.

Did you read Ace’s laceration of Amanda Marcotte the other day? Because I’m the patriarchal oppressor of Amanda’s dystopian nightmares: Yes, I see women — and their breasts — and am immediately filled with visions of them impregnated with my seed, bearing my offspring, bringing me sandwiches. But ultimately, there’s not enough of me to go around, and my wife insists on monopolizing my oppressive misogyny — for which other women should be grateful.

Anyway, there I was amid the assembled feminists on the plaza on Vermont Avenue. Trying not to be too conspicuous in my sexist objectification of them — besides Celine, there were about two dozen other reasonably attractive women among the hundreds who turned out for SlutWalk DC. Out of the whole crowd, there were only three or four you’d really call “hot,” and none of those were topless. (Fact: Public toplessness is legal in DC, but women don’t seem much interested in exercising that particular right.)

After about 15 or 20 minutes, the march began, three blocks east on U Street to 14th, where they turned north and uphill, and then went east into Meridian Hill Park. It was on that final leg of the march that I gathered the nerve to briefly interview Eliana, who was unquestionably the hottest woman in the march. She wore a sort of bustier and lace panties that left the lower portion of her buttocks exposed.

Eliana is a tanned brunette with slender legs — a “coltish” figure, you might say — and two dimples above her remarkably small but certainly quite round and shapely ass.

When I was a young fellow, I was very much an ass man who liked skinny girls like that, but for some reason, they don’t really impress me the way they did 30 or 35 years ago. This shift in aesthetic preference isn’t something I can explain, but which I note by way of saying that while I recognized mentally that Eliana was the best-looking participant in SlutWalk DC — a head-turning figure, dressed quite scantily — concupsicence was not a factor involved in my approaching her.

“Those heels must be killing you,” I said.

She laughed, and politely answered my questions: She’s a senior at George Washington University, majoring in psychology, minoring in women’s studies. “Oh, women’s studies,” I said.

The march arrived at Meridian Hill Park, where a temporary stage was set up at the south end, near the statue of a sword-wielding figure on horseback. Military monuments are a dime a dozen in D.C., where statues memorializing once-famous heroes are ignored by the residents. How many people, for example, ever think about “The Rock of Chickamauga” when driving through Thomas Circle?

So here we were, me and the self-proclaimed sluts, in the very shadow of this equestrian warrior, sword aloft, and out of curiosity I walked over to see whom this statue memorialized.

JEANNE D’ARC
LIBERATRICE
1412–1431
AUX FEMMES D’AMERIQUE
LES FEMMES DE FRANCE

Joan of Arc, patron saint of sluts? Surely the event organizers had intentionally chosen the location for the ironic purpose of having this fanatically Catholic 15th-century French peasant girl standing guard, as it were, over their convocation.

I hung around a bit longer,carefully studying the crowd to do a tally, counting exactly 14 pretty faces among about 400.

Perhaps I missed a few, or maybe I double-counted some, but certainly there weren’t more than two dozen lookers among them. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, of course, and maybe the AOSHQ “I’d hit it” standard is flexible enough that 10% would have made the grade without benefit of serious whiskey consumption.

My job was done, and I walked down 14th Street to this McDonald’s, intending to upload a few photos, including pink-nippled Celine, but something went wrong. My unfamiliarity with this camera is probably to blame. I’m sure I hit the wrong button while trying to download the photos. Perhaps it was a perfectly mundane technical accident, but when I checked the disk a second time — nothing.

Call it a glitch, call it a coincidence, but I don’t believe in coincidences. No, I blame it on that sword-wielding peasant girl. She didn’t want her feminist sisters objectified by the male gaze.

Ah, Joan! No wonder they burned you at the stake.

UPDATE: Thank goodness, some of the photos have been aggregated at Twitchy, including this one:

That’s Eliana, the George Washington University senior, click here to see a larger view of her dimpled ass — not that any of our readers would objectify her with the male gaze or anything like that.

UPDATE II: Joke time is over, this is serious:

At #SlutWalk, Statutory Rape Victim’s
Sign Explains, ‘I Didn’t Press Charges’

Rape is not a political grievance, it’s a crime. Stop parading around shouting slogans and start prosecuting criminals.

 

136 comments

  1. this slut walk thing leaves me so confused. ladies, do you want to be objectified by men, or don’t you? if you truly do not want to be objectified then why are you dressing that way in public? ach, I’ve already wasted too much time trying to make sense of silliness. it’s just vice posing as virtue.
    hilarious post, RSM

  4. Reminds me of the old Onion headline: Area Woman Tired Of Men Staring At Her Implants.

    Much of progressivism is nothing more than narcissistic exhibitionism. For whatever reason it promotes justice to get in peoples’ faces flailing your arms and leaping about while demanding respect. If you want to be taken seriously you must act like a hysterical lunatic. Essentially what these people and their ilk are saying is “F*ck you and your bourgeois conventions! Now give me some respect, you oppressive asshole!”

  5. Sorry about your camera Stacy. Remember, to these looney-bin leftists, even looking at them can be a violation of their personal privacy (even while in public making a spectacle of themselves). You may be accused of being a “privacy raper”. Remember the old concept of your youth: “Custody of the Eyes” wherein one made sure they did not look at sinful or wrong things. Sadly, that is not taught in our society.

  8. Stacy – wasn’t it, um, SEXIST of you to ask their permission? Don’t they want all gender barriers to fall and everyone to be treated the way the patriarchal orthodoxy treats men? If so, when does any feminist ever ask a man permission for anything?

  10. Stacy, I don’t care what Alyson Hannigan told you way back when on “Buffy”… the button marked DEL does not mean “Deliver.”

  11. Not pink, and just a single, but it’s still hawt.

    In a sleep deprived, the OB said you’re good to go kind of way…

  13. St. Joan was just being a good Catholic girl, Stacy. She didn’t want us to be led into sin by those photos. Or maybe she was more worried about our eyes burning…smoking, bubbling, melting and running down our faces.

  14. The COMPUTER ate your article? SRSLY?

    You’re going to try THAT excuse on for slacking (or whacking or whatever REALLY happened)?

    I thought you were more creative than that.

    Well. We’ll let it slide just this once but don’t think you can get away with this again young man.

    We’ll be watching for those photos to show up somewhere. Like on your walls. (or ceiling).

  15. “my wife insists on monopolizing my oppressive misogyny”

    I love this choice of words! I’m going to steal this statement and save it for use later.

  16. The twin ironies of these females strutting their stuff from the African-American Civil War Memorial, and St. Joan of Arc is beyond hilarious.

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