Robert Stacy McCain at his blog in a comments section…
The Right Guy wrote: This has to be the most reckless example of social promotion and affirmative action.
(Ed: RSM) You will notice that (a) I waste no mercy on feminism and yet (b) very seldom mention race-based affirmative action. There are reasons for this.
Feminism, and the favoritism toward women it demands, heaps unearned advantages on the overprivileged — that is to say, it bestows additional benefits to upper-class college-educated American women, who are by birthright the most spectacularly advantaged people in all human history.
It is not the blue-collar waitress or the dropout retail clerk who benefits from the tilted playing field that feminism requires, but rather the well-born daughters of the affluent, who have attended the best schools and who cruise through life without ever having experienced any hardship whatsoever. No matter how WASPy or wealthy or elite-educated they may be, feminism hands these women a platinum-plated Victimhood Card, which they play ruthlessly to wring every possible advantage from life.
Should it ever be your misfortune to have to deal with one of these haughty, indolent creatures in your workplace, God grant you the serenity not to call her out, for then you will be guilty of sexual harassment — as if such a worthless thing could ever be worth the bother to “harass.”
Whatever the unfortunate impact of affirmative action for ethnic minorities, they are rarely so insufferable as a rich 23-year-old white girl who expects the entire world to bend over her kiss her overprivileged ass.
Mass murderer Dylan Klebold’s mother writes an essay for Oprah Winfrey’s magazine.
“Dylan’s participation in the massacre was impossible for me to accept until I began to connect it to his own death. Once I saw his journals, it was clear to me that Dylan entered the school with the intention of dying there. And so in order to understand what he might have been thinking, I started to learn all I could about suicide.”
“Early on April 20, I was getting dressed for work when I heard Dylan bound down the stairs and open the front door. Wondering why he was in such a hurry when he could have slept another 20 minutes, I poked my head out of the bedroom. ‘Dyl?’ All he said was ‘Bye.’ The front door slammed, and his car sped down the driveway. His voice had sounded sharp. I figured he was mad because he’d had to get up early to give someone a lift to class. I had no idea that I had just heard his voice for the last time.”
“For the rest of my life, I will be haunted by the horror and anguish Dylan caused,” she wrote. “I cannot look at a child in a grocery store or on the street without thinking about how my son’s schoolmates spent the last moments of their lives. Dylan changed everything I believed about myself, about God, about family, and about love.”