Thoughts from the ammo line

Ammo Grrrll reports OUR GIRLS ARE CRAZY! She writes:

For several years now various confessional books, psychologists, sociologists, and observers of the passing scene have warned us that our young women – especially those who lean left — have become, not to put too fine a point on it, bat guano crazy.

But I didn’t really believe it. As a “somewhat high-strung” person of the female persuasion, whose husband complains of always being “one emotion behind,” I thought they just meant slightly mercurial ladies like me. Not certifiable lunatics. Obviously, I am out of touch.

The youngest woman I know personally at this stage of my life – except for a few young relatives I rarely see – is 61 and she’s as rock-solid sane as could be.

Then I saw a recruitment ad for the CIA, of all things, in which a young Woman Of Color listed among her many accomplishments in box-checking that she suffered from Anxiety Disorder. Which I thought was a peculiar thing to bring up in ANY job interview, especially for a clandestine, high-stress job. Silly me.

Never once in a job application did I write, “I have a cranky colon which used to just be called ‘spastic’ but now has the more dignified name of Irritable Bowel Syndrome. This is a real treat, of course, but I’m telling you in advance, in case I suddenly take my leave of an important meeting…” No. I just dealt with it. When asked at my Kelly Girl interview for a summer job before returning to college: “Where do you expect to be in five years?,” I did NOT say, “Certainly not HERE.” My Mama didn’t raise no fool.

A long-ago relative by marriage used to say within seconds of meeting a person, “I have low self-esteem.” Again, a bit peculiar but I thought she was an outlier. Little did I know that it was meant as a warning and also as a “get out of jail free” card to justify terrible things she did. The last thing I said to her before she was no longer a relative was, “You have low self-esteem because you have earned it.”

But I did not fully realize what a plague we have on our hands. Last week I mentioned the elite East Coast K-12 school that had to allow their disappointed Democrat students time to “grieve.” Good heavens! Yet another college – for voting ADULTS! – offered cocoa and Legos and such. Man alive, I was a Goldwater Grrrll in 1964. You talk about a WIPEOUT! We picked up our AuH2O gear and got on with our lives! It was in a quaint era when many students even knew the chemical symbols! Good times, good times.

The other day at the grocery store I had a strange incident. In checking out at the market I have patronized for the last 15 years I noticed a new check-out person. All the ones that were here when I first moved in – smiling, friendly, charming, efficient Mexican women who all greeted me by name and actually acted grateful for my business! – seem to have aged out and been replaced by a constantly rotating menagerie of young people. With a few exceptions, the newbies are tatted, pierced, brusque, and rarely say “thank you.”

But on this occasion, the young, attractive, slightly Goth woman had a nametag on with an unusual name. I won’t share it here, but I asked her how it was pronounced, said that I thought it was pretty, and she said, “I made that name up myself. I hated the name my mother gave me and she hated me and I hated her.”

Playing The Geezer Card. I said in a soothing voice, “Sometimes when we get older, and have children of our own, we realize that our parents had issues too and were truly just doing the best they could.” “NO!” she shouted. Now a line was gathering…“She is an evil person. It left damage! Now I have extreme ADHD and borderline autism.”

You had to be there, but I promise you she was not SAD about disclosing these mental health issues to all and sundry – she wore them like a badge that somehow made her more interesting or more entitled. As someone who only raised boys, I was at a complete loss for words — an unusual state for me. I tried to think what might please her, finally coming up with, “You must be very proud.” She smiled and said, “That will be $236.00.” Well, to be fair, it DID include both eggs AND meat. This really truly happened, word for word.

As my dear maternal grandma would say, “Land O’ Goshen!” There were probably around 125 girls in my high school graduating class, in varying financial circumstances and degrees of attractiveness. There were shy girls, nerd girls, boisterous girls, athletic girls, smart girls, but I cannot recall a single one who presented as just plain nuts.

I believe that it is all of a piece with the cultural degeneration of the last several decades, which includes illegal drugs, overprescribed legal drugs, feminism, narcissism, entitlement without merit, and, most especially, the half-century war on men and maleness.

I will boldly go where most women will not – expecting some interesting discussion and disagreement, which is okay – that I do not think that most women can be truly happy without men. Stipulating that some fine women prefer other women and also there ARE icky men – the prisons are full of them! But, IN GENERAL, I believe that men rein in our crazier impulses. Brothers, fathers, male friends and husbands make us feel safe, protected, and loved. Without which it is much easier to go off the deep end. Far from being “toxic,” they are actually powerful anti-toxins. Discuss. Lol.

My own dear man, who you may remember is the famous novelist Max Cossack, has just released his latest book and it is a page-turner! Even though I have known him for almost 60 years, I am still astonished at the variety of stories he contains within him and — relevant to today’s discussion – how well he writes engaging, smart, funny female characters. Who, to a woman, like and enjoy the company of men – even the lesbians!

High Jingo begins with a young couple in love digging for treasure in a cave that isn’t really a cave but an abandoned mineshaft, a relic of a Gold Rush that wasn’t really a “rush” so much as a Gold Shuffle that never quite materialized! The couple is assisted by a beer-loving husky dog which is unaware of the normal protocols of an archaeological dig and willy-nilly unearths an artifact with Hebrew letters on it! In rural Minnesota? And the reader thinks, “This is not your everyday story!” And that reader is correct.

Once again, three generations of the Wilder Bunch take us on an historical, occasionally hysterical, adventure. The story is as old as pogroms in Eastern Europe and as appallingly new as pogroms in Amsterdam or Jewish students being abused by pro-terrorist elements infesting higher education from the Ivies to fourth-rate diploma mills.

It is a ripping yarn full of love, courage, righteous anger, and women as bright and tough as the men. It careens from medieval Prague to contemporary Israel to a small rural town in Minnesota and up the road to St. Paul. It can be yours this very day.

Here is the Amazon link for eBook, paperback and audiobook.

You can also purchase the paperback directly from the author and receive a 15 percent discount at VWAM Books. Just enter PLDISCOUNT (one word, all CAPS) at checkout.

One other new book essential to mention: Gerard Van der Leun was a brilliant essayist and poet who blogged at American Digest. You can learn more about him and read one of his powerful essays there. You can also can order the collection of his exceptional essays at VanderLeun Books.

Once or twice a year I take the liberty of plugging either my or Max’s books. Before the holiday shopping season I plan to mention a few other chances for the Power Line readers to support conservative writers who comment right here. Have patience. I am still doing The Happy Dance from the election. It is exhausting.