Fred Dworkin vs. the Sisterhood

In my capacity of shade-tree anthropologist at large, I am trying to make sense of the far Left. It is tough sledding. Most of it makes as much sense as lug nuts on a birthday cake. Help me. I am really confused.

I can’t see that the Left actually is Left, I mean. The Left in its more practical embodiments used to be the champion of the working man. It fought for unions, good pay, benefits and job security. Conditions were horrible in America’s mines and factories. Things were ugly, and Leftists often got hurt or, occasionally, killed trying to remedy them.

Today’s “Left” is the party of Bill and Hill, of George Soros and the half-educated narcissists of Hollywood rolling in dough, of excessively comfortable academics and the media, all of whom use ethnic minorities as voting fodder but want nothing to do with them. When do you think was the last time Hillary or Megyn Kelly was in a truck stop or Legion hall, or had dinner in a restaurant where most of the diners were black?



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The Left is now hostile to working men, called “deplorables” in an unwise moment of honesty by Hillary. Can you imagine Saul Alinsky or Leon Trotsky worrying about transgender bathrooms or cultural appropriation? And it is a weirdly teenage Left in which most seem ten or fifteen years younger than their chronologic age. Oh good.

But now, feminists. They sound as crazy as Aunt Prudence, who thought she was a geranium, and we used to keep in the attic.

Feminists say they represent women. Oh? What possible reason do they have for thinking this delusion? They have almost nothing in common with (most) women. Almost all feminists are of the extreme…

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