It's time for Episode 2 of "Scary screeds about Maureen Dowd, written by threatened men."
I'm afraid that in order to get this series over with by the end of the week, I'm forced to pack two short Amazon reviews into one entry.
The first comes from Jason Craig, a reviewer from the United Kingdom. Craig gives Dowd's book a one-star rating and concedes that while it "will hold some appeal for bitter angry crones who have chosen to wage war on men, then wonder why they end up lonely," he actually considers it "an important symptom of the insanity of our times." Craig also mourns the "reality that women like Dowd have actually been able to influence the system." What has Dowd's influence been, you might ask? Craig has an answer. The "resulting damage" of Maureen Dowd and her ilk includes "fatherless homes, the army of criminals who come from them, the demonization of men in popular culture, and, as graphically demonstrated by Dowd, the legion of lonely and bitter deluded women." Fatherless homes and criminals? Dowd has been a very busy columnist. Who knew?
Craig agrees with John F. Ross that it won't make any difference how rich Dowd gets, "she'll never have enough to reverse the clock and undo the destructive choices she made," and that if "she had any class at all, she would warn her fellow women of the dangers of living a life of hatred and bile." Right. Consider me warned. Though I'd like to warn Craig about the dangers of confusing "critical commentary and personal observation" with "hatred and bile."
Today's honorable mention goes to Ottawa's C. Raum (an admittedly dubious entrant in this series since C. Raum could possibly be a woman), whose review is titled "Feminist Twaddle." Restating the titular question "Are Men Necessary?" C. Raum opines, "If Dowd and her coven of acolytes ... don't want to go back to shivering in a cave trying to digest grasshoppers and grubs, the answer is: Yes."
Thank you, C. Raum, whoever you are, for being unafraid to point out the harsh realities of our hunter-gatherer society, and, if you are male, for piling our plates with freshly clubbed mammoth night after night.