Friday, February 08, 2008

From now on I will let Gawker do all my blogging

I briefly considered writing yet another post about the clueless Judith Warner and her loathesome husband Max, having foolishly peeked at her NYTimes column yet again (my inner masochist clearly feeling the strain of my new year's resolution to avoid all Daphne Merkin issuances), but then I found this entry at Gawker and knew I was off the hook - they've pretty much got Judith Warner covered. My favorite comment by a true genius called "country wench"

As anyone who has known Judith since her days as an adolescent can attest, the root driver of Judith's "yenta" politics and literary voice is quite simple.
Judith is obsessed with her ass.
Since the age of 15, she has plagued all who know her with daily questions about the appearance of her ass. As in
"Is my ass too big?"
"Do I have a fat ass?"
"Does my ass look good in these jeans?" etc. etc.
Somehow, Judith's obsession with her own ass evolved by her late teens into an obsession with how other human beings (particularly men) feel about her ass, which turned into some form of anger about why the world wasn't sufficiently interested in her ass, or was more intrigued by women with different asses, or why in general her ass was perhaps not rated very highly in the ass-scheme of things, or why her ass never became the center of human kind's ass-focused attention.
This, in turn, became an obsession with criticizing other people's asses, as well as how they care for their asses, or jealousy about why other people are blessed with nicer asses, or more attractive asses, or why government should offer remedial care for those not blessed with asses worthy of attention, or how society was discriminating against certain asses, etc. etc.
A person so obsessed with their own ass rapidly thinks that all the sh*t in their own lives is worth writing about. Hence the uncensored blather of her column.

Now I think that ass is a metaphor. But I'm not 100% sure...