99 Red Balloons

Initially, I thought I would use this blog as a temporary outlet while taking my Feminist class at Duquesne. I was ready to dig my heels in and really ruffle their feathers. I have something different in mind now. I admit, I was a little fury cloud when it all started, huffing and puffing, ready to blow the Feminist house down. I don't know how to express exactly how I feel without being cynical, abstruse, or just well, misinterpreted. But I am going to try anyway.

It just doesn't matter. Feminism isn't going to stick. Any attention given it is like trying to tie stones to a balloon to keep it from flying up up and away. It's got to come down sometime. And its sad little rubber pieces are going to fall on someone's head or in a backyard or some shrub somewhere, some time from now, and the person (if anyone in fact stumbles upon it) is going to pick it up and say: What is this garbage? Can you believe anyone used it? Who is the owner anyway?

Yes- those are the questions that will be asked as soon as Feminism comes down from its nowhere cloud into some anonymous forgotten scrap pile. It just won't matter. It is almost out of our schools, people are getting tired of it, it's no longer "edgy" like it used to be, it's washed up and meanwhile we are all in our Feminist class, the discerning ones scratching their heads and wondering how there is even enough helium left to keep this one class up.

And, alas, we already know the true Feminist genius of our time has spoken, and definitively, THANK YOU JOHN PAUL THE GREAT, A TRUE FEMINIST!

JPII, pray for us.

hmmm...I am, however, contemplating a book burning after the semester is through. As Language Log writers would say, the pages are only worthy to be nailed up as rescue paper in the pool house.