A dear young friend who reads (but does not usually comment on) this blog sent me an email yesterday.
She said some nice things, then used the term “bated breath” in wondering when I planned to address last week’s Ann-Romney-has-never-worked-a day-in-her-life controversy.
I rarely pass up the thrown-down gauntlet, so here you go.
Let me preface my remarks by pointing out something my daughter Audrey said, and I paraphrase: Before last week, who ever heard of Hilary Rosen?
Precisely.
I did know, however, who Ann Romney was. I still know who she is.
Although her husband was not my favorite pick for GOP nominee and POTUS 45 -- he’s not nearly conservative enough -- I believe Ann Romney is the next First Lady of the United States of America.
We could do lots worse. We are doing a great deal worse.
And it doesn’t bother me a bit that Mrs. Mitt Romney, mother of five, has never held a job in a big corporation, or even a small one.
Because even though in a way it’s not saying much -- her being a multi-millionaire and all that -- I can relate to Ann a lot better than I ever would to Hilary what’s-her-name.
I mean, Ann and I both drive Cadillacs. I’m pretty sure hers are nicer than mine, but still. We’ve got a bond.
But the day I have anything in common with a pudgy lib-loon lesbian who gussies up for cocktails at an ultra-radical White House once a month will be the same day I share a pack of peanut butter crackers with Johnny Depp.
On Pluto. While being serenaded by Chanel-clad ferrets crooning Unchained Melody in perfect Portuguese.
Ain’t gonna happen, y’all.
So if Ms. Rosen’s point was that the average American woman relates better to her -- because she “works” -- than to Ann Romney, who doesn’t work, that was a pretty spectacular fail for one whose sole claim to fame is tacky friends in high places.
Those same friends who pretend to champion women while actually holding them in the lowest contempt imaginable.
Because lets face it: millions of the women Hilary Rosen purports to represent with her lifestyle and employment choices wouldn’t know a job if it bit them on the nose.
I speak of the immoral, indecent, one-hundred-percent-on-welfare females with six kids by six different babydaddies and not a wedding ring in sight.
In other words, ahhh, uhm, ohhh, ahhh ... Obummer’s voter base.
The closest these gals come to “working” is the twenty dollars they get for leaving the couch long enough to lumber down to the polling place and axe how does you spell Democrat.
If a girl played her cards right, she could make a hundred bucks in a single day doing that! Added to her food stamps, it’s a real nice haul. Beats turning tricks.
Vote early and often, Dims. It’s the only way your strategy will “work.”
But the Hilary Rosens of this world count on the middle-class American woman never putting two and two together and coming up with four.
She thinks the hard-working, law-abiding, God-fearing, traditionally married, taxpaying mothers (and there are still more of our kind than there are of hers) of America are stupid. Or not paying attention.
Because wait! I thought the liberal message was that a woman’s body is her own and she alone has the right to choose what she’ll do with it.
Like, if she uses it to be faithful in a marriage to one man, or to hold a job for thirty-five years, or if she decides to stay home and rear children, or to pop out a passel of welfare babies, or get an abortion or a dozen abortions, it’s nobody’s business but hers.
Work this out, Hilary: What really puts a crease in your liberal cranium is not a woman who is unemployed, but a woman who lives her life morally and in subjection to a man. A man who provides for her while she bears and nurtures his children to productive adulthood according to traditional family values.
It curdles your cerebral cortex that more women like that will be voting in November for Ann Romney's husband, than women like you voting for your pathetic dweeb of a socialistic race-hustling savior.
TG and I were at our married daughter’s house this past weekend, to celebrate Allissa’s birthday.
Stephanie hasn’t been employed since 2007, when she quit her part-time teaching job to become a full-time pastor’s wife.
She has a seven-year-old with special needs, a four-year-old who’s a pistol, and a two-month-old with colic. As such I assure you she works. Seven days a week. For no pay. The hours are terrible.
But there are some wonderful benefits. My sweet friend who suggested I write this post -- who is herself the (married) mother of two and runs a successful home-based business -- knows what they are, and so does my daughter.
Hilary something or other? The one whose name you already forgot? She’s not only malicious, perverted, immoral, and mentally ill.
She’s just plain jealous.
That is all!
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Friday, April 20, 2012 at 02:44PM 
