Of Mice and “Meninists”

Today is a snow day from school, so of course I spent my day cleaning all the things, catching up on paperwork, and doing all the laundry cleaning one thing and leaving the supplies out so I’m guilted into finishing in two weeks and also: trolling the internet.

Today is a great trolling the internet day: exploding all over is the story about the [expletive deleted] who wants to legalize rape and whose plans for a rally which I here choose to pronounce “wawwy” like a character in American Tail, were interrupted by awesome women boxers from Canada who promised to be there, gloves on, to counter-protest.

There’s a big part of me that is rubbing my hands in glee, watching the public shaming of this obvious horrible excuse for a human being as he gets the same kind of death threats that many women get for tweeting a picture or their thoughts on politics or gaming.

That same big part of me is doing my “How’s it feel now the shoe’s on the other foot?” dance in elastic waisted pants (ahem, snow day!) and delighting in the fact that any potential employer who googles this guy’s name is going to dump him in the “Definite No” pile of applicants no matter what, for literally the rest of his life. And that his picture, now all over the internet, ensures that no woman would seriously consider dating this guy- who, let’s be real, looks like a poster you’d see in a police station of a sex offender—he likes to fat shame women, and if he can dish it out, he needs to be able to take it: he is one ugly-[expletive deleted] [expletive deleted]. Chances are, he’s going to be that creepy old man in the state run nursing home with no visitors and who the nurses warn each other about because he says inappropriate things and tries to touch them when they come in for his pills, so eventually they all start drawing straws to see who is stuck being this man’s sole human contact that day.

And then I feel…pity.

Why should I feel sorry for this guy? He’s a terrible person.

A terrible person who has literally brought all of this judgement and vitriol onto himself. Who probably did it in a calculated way to drive traffic to his stupid blog that sounds more like a rejected title for Game of Thrones fanfic—and by the way, even if you are curious, and even if you want to read it to make fun of him, don’t visit his site. He will get ad revenue even if you’re not following it and you’re just there as a lookie loo.

Seriously—as someone who’s seen the dead body of a homeless person being covered with a sheet before being loaded into an ambulence in Central Park the day after a record breaking cold night last winter, curiosity is not good for the cat.

Speaking of cats, our cat spent last night playing with a mouse but not killing it, because she has grown fat and complacent. She is now so comfortable that she sees a mouse as a toy, not filthy vermin which it is her job to eliminate.


I can’t feel sorry for the mouse even though it is just trying to get by like everybody else in this world, finding food and not getting eaten by a large predator and hiding under the fridge. Because that thing carries disease and isn’t part of the indoor, mostly sanitized ecosystem I’ve created in my home.

I want to see that mouse dead and steam mop the floors or scoop its bones out of the litter box and also still steam mop the floors. It is the same righteous indignation at things that are decidedly wrong, no arguments about it, that makes me happy to see this man be shamed, that people threaten him with violence, and that his clear wrongness be rejected by society.

But that doesn’t mean that he, or the mouse, are not deserving of pity. If the mouse leaves, and never comes back, I hope that it has a very happy life eating the crumbs of somebody else’s cookies gets eaten by somebody else’s cat. And if this guy walks away from all of this, and retains his wrong ideals, and is never seen or heard from in the media again, the circus will move on to the next freak show, and he will be forgotten. His nonsensical ideals will stay on the fringes of society and the rest of us will remember him and his idiotic crusade as, at best, an increasingly irrelevant source of topical humor. But in any case, what is truly pitiable is the mental prison that he has built for himself—of his own doing, to be sure, but one that may end up being inescapable.

And for that, I cannot help but pity him.

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