For folks who recoil at the thought of hunting animals, progressives sure do enjoy stalking human prey, especially the female of the species.
Last week alone:
Twitter bullies calling themselves #StopRush ganged up on a North Carolina realtor who advertises her business on one of Limbaugh’s affiliate stations. To her credit, she Tweeted back, “I will advertise wherever I damn well please.”
Ann Coulter was disinvited from Fordham University. Students knew they didn’t want her on campus, even if they weren’t quite sure why.
Oh, and then there’s what happened to me.
Last Thursday marked the 23rd anniversary of the Montreal Massacre, when a young man yelled, “You’re all a bunch of feminists!” before shooting and killing fourteen female engineering students.
Canadians are obliged to “remember” this event every December 6—I call it “Never Hear the End of It” Day—while conveniently forgetting that killer “Mark Lépine” had been born Gamil Gharbi, the son of a Muslim immigrant wife beater. Lépine may have (if my Montrealer friend’s recollection of the immediate news reports is reliable) yelled “Allahu Akbar” during the shooting.
No, the Montreal Massacre is held up as proof that all (white) men are wife-beating rapists-in-waiting, and all guns are penis substitutes that should be banned.
The nation’s flags—I’m not joking—are flown at half-mast. It’s a liberal High Holy Day, commemorated most seriously at college campuses.
Hence the University of Western Ontario’s student radio station’s decision to ban male voices on the air this December 6.
This left Ontario libertarians Robert Metz and Robert Vaughan with a dilemma. Their show Just Right airs on CHRW every Thursday and comprises the only hour of the week devoted to non-Marxist programming.
Banned from their own program, the Bobs asked me and our mutual vagina-having friend Mary Lou Ambrogio of the International Free Press Society to sit in for them. We agreed. I announced my guest-hosting gig on my blog.
That’s when Warren Kinsella tried to prevent me from going on the air.
Kinsella is a self-described “ass-kicker“ and a well-known, powerful, and widely feared Liberal Party operative. An interesting version of his CV can be seen here.
Kinsella’s career blooper reel includes:
• Having to apologize to a female Conservative Party candidate for implying she’d be happier “baking cookies” and for joking that Chinese people eat cat meat. (Which they do.)
• Photographing swastika graffiti in a bathroom stall to demonstrate the looming Nazi invasion of Canada or something.
• Employing his well-known fondness for ellipses to accuse a conservative author of using racist slurs…then using similar slurs himself. (To “make a point,” naturally. Remember: It’s always different when they do it.)
• Repeatedly challenging a conservative pundit to a debate—then backing down when the latter agreed.
• Whatever the hell this is.
Kinsella earns approximately ten times more money a year than I do and has four children to my zero, yet he is seemingly dedicated to monitoring my every word and move, and in some cases preventing me from speaking and moving.
He says this is because I am a “white supremacist.” It’s a toss-up as to who finds this charge more amusing: my friends at the local chapter of the Jewish Defense League or my gay Muslim business partner.
We all get the biggest laugh out of the fact that Kinsella’s campaign against me keeps backfiring.
For example, he vowed “to contact friends in Israel” to “suggest that” I “not be permitted entry” into the country. I enjoyed a delightful week there without interference.
The last time he attempted to prevent me from making a media appearance, he was denounced in Parliament.
You’d think he’d have tired of this fruitless pastime.
The night before my scheduled cohosting gig in London, Ontario last week, Kinsella emailed the station manager, advising him against allowing me on the air.
He also mentioned the radio station’s CRTC license and hinted that it would be a shame if something were to happen to it.
(That’s right: A self-described liberal feminist man tried to silence a woman—on a feminist feast day.)
The station manager politely advised Kinsella to mind his own business.
And so I did the show. I began by explaining that I, like my feminist sisters, blame “men” for the Montreal Massacre, too—it’s just that I blame not only Gamil Gharbi, but also the “prophet” Muhammad, Pierre Trudeau, and the fifty or so male students who meekly left their classmates to their fate.
Mary Lou and I mocked a gaggle of progressive women who’d tried to prevent a “men’s rights” expert from speaking at the University of Toronto because the event’s posters “made them uncomfortable.” We imitated the students’ Valley Girl voices and speculated on the heaviness of their menstrual flows.
Oh, and I imitated Obama using a Shaft-like blaxploitation accent.
Mary Lou and I had a fine time. I got some nice fan mail. As of press time, the station still has its license.
But the best part by far?
Warren Kinsella has just released a book called Fight the Right. He’s asked the regular (male) hosts of Just Right if maybe, you know, they’d let him come on the show to plug it sometime.
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