This dispatch from the lunatic fringe made me laugh out loud, so, good job:
All-women’s Mount Holyoke College will no longer perform their annual production of Eve Ensler’s narcissistic celebration of female sexuality, The Vagina Monologues, on Valentine’s Day because it fails to give a voice to transgendered women who don’t have vaginas.
The play served as the feminist bible for a generation asking the deepest of questions involving womanhood, such as “If your vagina got dressed, what would it wear?” The Vagina Monologues is a tour de force of sexual discovery, pedophilia, homosexuality and other topics explored ad nauseam in plays since the 195os, except without the subtleties. Instead, the play is more of a grotesque “up-in-your-grille” style of performance art aiming to offend non-feminists, which it often does.
Heh. When "The Vagina Monologues" came through town, I had to go see the stupid thing because, you know, I was told I had to. And I noticed at the performance were every single prominent woman in town -- including elected Republican officials -- each with a man obviously unhappily as me in tow. I'd venture that 90 percent of the men who were there were like me, dragged along against their will.
I hate to disappoint my liberal friends, but I wasn't especially offended or disgusted or outraged by the play. It was kinda boring in a sad kind of way. "Oooh, look, men, and listen up. Vagina, vagina, vagina! Tee hee." All that play proved was that women can be as infantile as men. Sorry, but a fascination with body parts does not equal sophistication.
And now, those in-your-face feminists are getting a good dose of their own medicine, from people even more obsessed than they are. What a delicious helping of schadenfreude!
