I confess. I am a feminist, but until today I never heard of Caitlin Flanagan. I gather that this 21st-Century Phyllis Schlafly irritates many women, Joan Walsh, for example, and Laurie Abraham. I'm sure she would irritate me, too, if I had to pay any attention to her, but I don't see why I should. Give me the cancer-inflected musings of the wonderful Twisty Faster at I Blame The Patriarchy over those of a woman who thinks her service to the Patriarchy enabled her to beat cancer.
I don't go out of my way to be irritated. I don't read the newspapers. I don't watch news on TV. I don't listen to news on the radio. I don't even read news on the internet, if I can help it. Every few weeks I have to comb through the front section of the New York Times to clip items items about morbidity, stupidity, mortality, destruction and corruption in and concerning Iraq to post on the door of my office, lest any passing law student be confused about exactly what "mission" we "accomplished" there, and this fleeting confrontation with our malevolent government is almost more than I can stand.
So, don't look to me for piercing commentary on the passing scene. Unless by that you mean how the Red Sox are doing.