Susan B. Anthony List: Winning

An interesting article in National Journal shows that, while pro-choice political groups generally raise far more money than pro-life groups, the pro-life Susan B. Anthony List stomps the crap out of the pro-choice National Organization for Women:

National Journal also features video stories including interviews with SBA List Chairwoman Marjorie Dannenfelser:

'Frankly, my dear . . '

Rhett Butler still doesn't give a damn, which is why women can't resist him, as I explain in my latest column for The American Spectator:

While those around him scrupulously obey the superficial social conventions of the age, Rhett scoffs at his own disrepute and brashly invites scandal, as when he shocks Atlanta society by bidding $150 for the honor of dancing with the recently widowed Scarlett. And while Ashley is torn by doubt, Rhett is the embodiment of decisive certainty.
He has a way with the ladies, but Rhett is indisputably a man's man. When his blunt skepticism toward the South's prospects in the impending war enrages the touchy pride of his hosts in the drawing room at Twelve Oaks, Rhett is insulted by young Charles Hamilton, but declines the challenge. "I apologize again for all my shortcomings," Rhett says as he excuses himself. The hot-tempered Hamilton imputes this to cowardice -- "He refused to fight!" -- only to be informed by Ashley that Butler is a notoriously deadly duelist, "one of the best shots in the country."
In an agrarian antebellum society obsessed with the noble ideals of ancient chivalry, Rhett's attitudes are shockingly modern. He is a calculating capitalist, shamelessly professing his pursuit of self-interest. When Scarlett reproaches him for doubting the Confederate cause, Butler memorably retorts, "I believe in Rhett Butler. He's the only cause I know." . . .

Read the whole scandalous thing, which doesn't shy away from the accusations of raaaaacism that plague Gone With The Wind today -- the 70th anniversary of the film's premiere in my native Atlanta.

Turner Classic Movies will show GWTW tonight at 8 p.m. ET. (You can read Washington Times film critic Gary Arnold's discussion of the TCM broadcast and the new 70th Anniversary Collector's DVD version.) Most media will either ignore this anniversary or else view it through a politically correct prism. ABC News airhead Ashley Hall managed to get Australian film-studies professor Deb Verhoeven to share this slice of feminist idiocy:

"Some people see the film and see an independent woman's struggle and her ultimate resilience and another person sitting next to them will see a terrible story about sexual subjugation."

Although you need subjugating badly, Professor Verhoeven. That's what's wrong with you. You should be subjugated, and often, and by someone who knows how.

Rhett Butler's offenses to feminism are extreme -- and extremely ironic, considering that he was created by a quite modern career woman, Margaret Mitchell, who remains the best-selling female writer of all time. It's easy to imagine Rhett laughing at feminist accusations of misogyny, just as he would laugh at the accusation of racism.

Fear and Self-Loathing
Coincidentally enough, I had a long phone conversation yesterday with Juliette "Baldilocks" Ochieng, the Luo-American blogger who asked her white readers why they were so afraid of being labelled "racist," and was surprised by the response:

I knew that there was fear out there, but I didn't comprehend the breadth of it.

As I told Juliette, there are both practical and emotional motives for this widespread fear. Practically, in the age of affirmative action and equal-opportunity employment law, the mere suspicion of "racism" can be a career-killer for anyone with ambitions of climbing the corporate ladder. Look at how Larry Summers' academic career was destroyed after he offended the feminists at Harvard, and then try to imagine what would have happened if he had similarly offended the racial grievance-mongers.

Vicious race hustlers who plague America's universities are a major reason an absurd flinch-reaction to the "racist" label is so commonplace among our educated elite. Just ask Sergio Gor what it was like when left-wingers at George Washington University perpetrated an anti-Muslim hate hoax against the campus chapter of Young America's Foundation. Or ask YAF's Jason Mattera about the reaction to his "whites-only scholarship" protest at Roger Williams University.

The cringing fearfulness Shelby Steele describes in his book White Guilt has to be "carefully taught" -- to borrow with obvious irony the famous lyrics from South Pacific -- and our educational system now teaches white guilt as fanatically as Nazi schools taught Aryan superiority in the 1930s.

Acknowledgement of racial guilt is now de rigueur among white bien-pensants who, if we may continue this impromptu French lesson, are required to prove themselves amis des noirs if they wish to preserve their amour propre.

Terrorized by the very real risk of denunciation and ostracism if they dispute the regnant racial orthodoxy, whites internalize this politically correct fear. As is often the case when fear is hidden in the heart, however, they seek to resolve the inevitable cognitive dissonance by projecting their inner angst onto scapegoats.

Whited Sepulchres
In recent years I've noticed that those who most relentlessly charge others with racism are white people who, by pointing the accusing finger, seek to make a public display of their own colorblind virtue:

Not only am I not a racist, but I am such an enlightened and courageous crusader against racism as to be able to detect the hidden hate of my fellow whites and to expose and fearlessly denounce it. Admire me!

To these self-righteous hypocrites, we may be tempted to reply with the two most famous words of Rahm Emanuel (hint: the second word is "you"), but instead we should remind them what Jesus said of their predecessors:

Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness. Even so ye also outwardly appear righteous unto men, but within ye are full of hypocrisy and iniquity.

"Whited sepulchres," indeed. They tithe the mint and cumin of racial self-righteousness, and when they make a proselyte, he is "twofold more the child of hell." (Sharmuta and Killgore Trout come to mind here.) They react with predictable fury toward anyone who calls them out for their pharisaical fraudulence, as the ugly reality of their dishonest hypocrisy contradicts the virtuous reputation they covet.

Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools

Read the whole thing, as the bloggers say. And then please read the rest of my American Spectator column about Rhett Butler, who knew how to make the most of a bad reputation.

Speaking of making the most of such things, I once more wish to thank readers who have already hit the tip jar to help send me to Pasadena for Alabama's Jan. 7 national championship game. (Howdy, Texas A&M fans. Go Aggies!) Remember, we need to average $70 a day for the next three weeks to do this, so that perhaps I can pay chivalrous respect to Baldilocks (and also Little Miss Attila) in person.

Update: (Smitty) Geller 'lanch!

What to Give Your Wife for Christmas

(Note to readers: This post will be more enjoyable if you try reading it aloud with a Deep South accent, somewhere in the range between Haley Barbour gumbo and Jerry Foxworthy grits.)

My conservative concern for traditional family values means that I am enthusiastically pro-marriage. In addition to my two decades of marital bliss, with six wonderful children, I'm constantly playing matchmaker with my single friends, trying to hook them up with their soulmates.

Once I get theem matched, I then begin to harass them about getting married -- "When's the wedding? Why don't y'all just run down to the courthouse and tie the knot?" -- so as to avoid a problem caused by long engagements: The temptation to fornication. You might surprised just how commonplace pre-marital sin has become in our society. Or perhaps not.

Pro-family advocacy doesn't end on the wedding day, of course. Once the young lovebirds get lawfully hitched, it's time to start badgering them about making babies. Some suspect me of furthering a clandestine agenda, but my Victory Through Breeding Program is no secret. Between sodomy and abortion (the most important "rights" for liberals), the Democratic Party is charting a path to demographic oblivion, and conservatves can hasten that process simply by doing what comes natural.

The birds and bees. Tarzan and Jane. "Let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel." IYKWIMAITYD.

Despite the genius simplicity of my pro-family agenda -- "Get married and make babies" ain't rocket science, folks -- there remains the problem of divorce. A woman won't get married and breed a Duggar-sized brood if she's afraid her hubby is going to run off with some two-bit homewrecking floozy like Mark Sanford's Argentine tramp. Guys, if you want that long-lasting death-do-us-part deal, you've got to show your wife that you really love her.

Which brings us to the subject of what to buy your wife for Christmas: The Cuisinart Grind and Brew.

Trust me on this one, my friend. Nothing says "love" like the Cuisinart Grind and Brew. Add the beans, add the water, push the button and -- whirrrrrrr! -- just a few minutes later, you've got 10 cups of fresh-ground, fresh-brewed coffee.

Better Marriage Through Technology, you see, because the Cuisinart Grind and Brew comes with a timer-alarm function. Your wife can set it up at night before she goes to bed and at 6:51 a.m., be awakened by the beautiful music -- whirrrrrr! -- of that high-speed bean-grinder going into action, knowing that the coffee will be piping hot when she brings you that first cup of the morning at 7 a.m. And since you don't have to get in the shower until 7:20 a.m. . . .

Well, a little snuggle-time is a fine way to start the day. IYKWIMAITYD. But wait -- there's more!

The Cuisinart Grind and Brew features a thermal carafe that keeps your coffee hot for hours. So if your early-morning snuggle-time leaves you in such a mellow mood that you decide to call in sick at work -- "Hey, boss, I'm sorry, but I think I might coming down with something here . . ." -- that second cup will still be warm when you finally crawl out of bed about 10 o'clock.

Now, some of you fellows may be thinking to yourselves, "Do I really want to give my wife a household appliance for Christmas?" Relax, boys. This isn't like a vacuum cleaner or something. The Cuisinart Grind and Brew is a luxury gourmet experience, especially if you add a few clever gifts under the tree:

• Chocolate Covered Coffee Beans by Caffe' Sant' Eustachio -- Pure luxury from Rome's most famous cafe -- 8.8 ounces of fine beans.
• English Toffee Decaf Coffee by Red Buffalo -- Delicious toffee flavor with no caffeine makes for a relaxing hot cup on a cold winter's night -- 12 ounces of fine beans.
• Dark Roasted 100% Kona Coffee by Hawaii Roasters -- Why worry about all that "fair trade" crap from South America and Indonesia, when you can enjoy this delicious product of American imperialism? Dark roasted for that hard-core caffeine jolt to get you going in the morning -- 16 ounces of fine beans.
• Dark Chocolate & Mint Squares by Ghiradelli -- Coffee and chocolate go perfectly together, and Ghirdelli is the world's finest -- 5.32 ounces of deliciousness in a gift bag. If your wife likes dark chocolate, she might also like their Twilight Delight Intense Dark 72% Cacao Chocolate. For a more varied selection, give her Ghiradelli's Ghiradelli Holiday Assortment, which comes in an attractive gift tin.
• William Wallace Shortbread Highlanders by Walkers -- OK, she's got the coffee, she's got the chocolate -- what's missing? Cookies! And these delicious shortbread cookies are 29% butter. They come in a beautiful 14-ounce tin commemorating Scottish freedom fighter William "Braveheart" Wallace, so the missus can indulge her Mel Gibson fantasies, too.
• Imported Scottish Pure Butter Assorted Shortbread Cookies by Walkers -- Yes, my friends, this lovely gift tin contains the motherlode: Nearly four pounds of high-calorie, cholesterol-filled goodness. And smart husbands know the secret message here: "No, honey, you're not getting fat. There's just more to love."

Well, there you have it, fellows. The secret of a long, happy marriage is to give your wife something thoughtful for Christmas.

The best part? You can remind her how much you love her 364 days a year, just by saying those magic words that every woman longs to hear: "Hey, honey, can you fix me another cup of coffee?"

Merry Christmas, y'all!

UPDATE: Addressing some reaction to my pro-family agenda. Also, trying to explore new frontiers in shameless capitalist blogging.

Governor Palin: Lean into the curve

Just got through doing a long in-person interview about populism and the contemporary political landscape, sat down to find out what had been going on in the blogosphere for the past few hours, and at Memeorandum saw this headline:

Newsweek Photo of Palin Shows
Media Bias and Sexism

"Sexism" is an ideological pejorative coined by feminists and, as such, a term I disdain -- actually, I make a point of jabbing feminists at every opportunity.

Grant that the editors of Newsweek hate Sarah Palin. We have every reason to believe that the choice of photo of Palin in shorts represented an attempt to diminish and belittle Palin, to portray her as a cheesecake bimbo, the political equivalent of Lindsay Lohan. Palin herself writes:

The out-of-context Newsweek approach is sexist and oh-so-expected by now. If anyone can learn anything from it: it shows why you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, gender, or color of skin. The media will do anything to draw attention - even if out of context.

That this is "sexist," OK. Gotcha. But does Sarah Palin want to assume a feminist victimhood posture, to say that she is being oppressed by the patriarchy?

No, I think not. Excuse me for suggesting that the way for Palin to leverage this -- to "re-brand" herself as they say -- is to lean into the curve. The better response would be along the lines of:

"Yes, I am a woman. Yes, I have legs. And, yes, I've been told they're very nice legs. Exactly why the editors of Newsweek decided that showing me in shorts was appropriate for the cover of their magazine is for them to explain -- and good luck with that. I guess I'm trying to figure out what side of the double-standard applies here. Levi can get naked for Playgirl and still be taken seriously, but Newsweek thinks it's something scandalous to show me in running shorts? Just wait until I grant my first in-depth foreign-policy interview to Maxim!"

Or something to that effect. The governor signifies her self-awareness that she is something of a political and cultural novelty -- a conservative woman who is a viable presidential prospect. She is aware that her good looks are both an asset and a potential liability, and that liberals want to portray her as a trailer-trash airhead, the "Caribou Barbie," etc.

She gets the joke, and she turns it back against them. Nothing disarms an attack so well as self-deprecating humor. It's like the way Reagan joked about his own extremist reputation: "The Republican Party needs both its right wing and its far-right wing."

To use the word "sexist" against Newsweek is to accuse enlightened liberal elitists of violating their own egalitarian standards -- which is all fine and good. But "sexist" also sounds like one of those grim, humorless Women's Studies professors ranting at a campus "Take Back the Night" rally.

Ick. Don't go there, governor. You are a happily married Christian conservative pro-life woman who -- oh, glorious coincidence! -- looks good in shorts. Your husband is a certified USDA prime slice of hunkalicious beef, your son is a soldier in Bravo Company, and your daughter is a single mom with a selfish douchebag ex-boyfriend.

All of which is to say, you are the 21st-century all-American woman, a symbol to which a lot of moms can relate. Just think of the enormous untapped electoral potential in the "My Daughter's Ex-Boyfriend Is A Selfish Douchebag" Coalition.

Lean into the curve, governor. Be yourself. Relax and have fun. Avoid the humorless feminist victimhood pose. If Hillary Clinton couldn't make that work against Obama, the media sure as heck won't let you use it, so let it go.

When you wish to call attention to the media's double standard -- both the male/female thing and the liberal/conservative thing -- always do so in a way the displays confidence and good humor. Invite the audience to laugh with you, and give them an opportunity to laugh at the media. And let the media laught at themselves. You might be surprised how many people in the press corps think their peers take this Serious Journalism stuff a bit too seriously.

Don't ignore your critics, governor, but don't let them undermine your confidence, either. You are winning. Just don't forget: Lean into the curve.

I guess Darleen isn't a feminist superstarlet

by Smitty

Amanda Marcotte at Double X:

But you don’t see many 16-year-olds hosting their own talk shows on major news networks. Having a baby is a lot of work, absolutely, but if it required the genius-level capabilities, the human race would have died out a long time ago.

Darleen Click:

And one doesn’t see many 16-year-olds successfully raising children on their own either. Mandy is not stupid enough to pretend giving birth is the same as parenting.

Is it possible that these levels of contempt for family and children exists beyond the Vagina Warrior class and contributes to the dismal portrayal of same in Western entertainment media, if not a birthrate that is way below replacement?

Marcotte continues:

And let's not forget how these arguments sound to people who can't have kids, because they're infertile or for some other reason. Telling women that having kids is the most important thing they can do makes the deliberately childless laugh at you, but for women who can't have kids, it's much like telling them they aren't even real women.

One wonders if the real discussion here is more about materialism than parenting. All I can tell women is that the older business norm of driving the house is every bit as valuable in the long run as the secular career. With the additional value that motherhood, by childbirth or adoption, as the case may be, can love you in your old age. Ask that of your pen or watch you get from your company. Or your pension plan that got cleaned out by white-collar thieves.

The denigration of the traditional family arrangement by feminists is as false and hollow as the denigration of capitalism by socialists. Yet feminists and socialists will preach their hellish anti-gospel while they've breath.