April is the crudest month, according to Mr. Eliot. But I believe March is crueller. For March is Women's History Month, and from out of every crevice and dark hole, like Orcs scurrying from J.R.R. Tolkien's Minas Morgul, come she-things swinging their war-axes, craving blood and ideological battle. Behold, the wrath of Mordor.
Feminism is no longer an option; in this, the Fourth Age of Middle Earth, it is a mandatory torture. It is in our textbooks, in our libraries, in our media, in our churches, in our businesses. We all must suffer through it. And now, unfortunately, we must pass through a secular Feast of the Feminist Obsession on a yearly basis. We must intone our solidarity; worry about the statistical anomaly of the 70 cents each woman makes to each man's dollar; and strike our breasts (not theirs) and repent of the sins of patriarchy and male oppression.
Ladies' History Month is important to the gals. Somehow, they have developed this incredible inferiority complex and think recounting the exploits of various females of the species for one month will even things up against the patriarchal prigs who have dominated human history. Men, after all, have had this incredible habit of working, inventing, writing, battling, composing, building, destroying, and otherwise shaping the facades of society from time immemorial.
Women, on the other hand, have traditionally been responsible only for bringing...