A Kate Mulvey Apologetic

My scathing and somewhat vicious attack on Kate Mulvey is getting lots of hits from people who are Googling her name. I’m not entirely comfortable with first-time readers being introduced to this blog by way of such a nasty post, hence this apologetic.

Kate is a feminist writer for the London Times who writes about her relationships and a variety of social issues. I find her writings to be deeply insulting to my choices in life and those of my friends. I think she’s gotten a free ride on the backs of all the people out there who chose the self-denial required to raise a family over hedonism and self-gratification.

I’ve read several of her articles now and the recurring theme throughout is her search for new and subtle intoxicants, orgasms with a wide variety of men and trips to exotic locales while pursuing her career. Her work is filled with praise for the feminist, me-first lifestyle. Unfortunately for her, civilization was not built on the pursuit of exotic, drunken orgasms. It was built on self-sacrifice and cooperation. All of the art she appreciates, the fine wines she samples and the Armani suits of her various sex partners are products of a civilization built on the married, two-parent family.

This is a small cement mixer. Dirty men who don't wear Armani and have never been to college operate it. It's used to build things. Things like spas and night clubs and art museums. It is not the product of exotic, drunken orgasms.
She and her peers at the London Times (and, as a good friend pointed out, the New York Times as well) look down on the women who have chosen to be housewives. Poor dears, they have sagging breasts and stretch marks. Their hair is poorly styled and they wear cotton of all things. Don’t they care how they look?

Meanwhile, for Kate and her 40-year-old playgirl friends, it’s an endless stream of doctors and bankers and lawyers flowing through their beds. It’s champagne and Paris and professional conferences and art museums. It’s an ever-increasing mental library filled with memories of exotic, drunken orgasms. Really now, what are the rest of you thinking? You really need to get with the feminist side of things. Dump that old chauvinistic slavery and join in the Bacchanalia!

Well, Kate and all the rest of you, the cars you drive and the buildings you inhabit and the food you eat was made for you by those ghastly proletarians who enslaved themselves in matrimony and chose to deny themselves cocaine or cognac or whatever your chemical of the month might be. They didn’t take that trip to Monaco so they could send their kids to a better school. They stuck with one partner and learned to live with his snoring and beer belly rather than coupling with the supple, toned body of an equally shallow business executive who is your mirror image. You are consuming the benefits of the self-denial of those dreadful, gray, ordinary people.

You’re welcome.

If you haven’t seen those posts, here’s my rant about Kate’s attack on men and here’s my post on her alleged sophistication. Enjoy.