Tagged “Ray Rice”

Repost: “slapping the bitch around to put her in her place”

This quote first went up on October 24, 2015; I’m reposting it because of the similarity between this quote and the previous (“If Ray Rice had been more musical, and had treated his bitch like they all sing about”). A pattern has emerged:

Suppose we went out and found some old school missionary who wanted to insist on the missionary position for everybody. Without defending his views, I nevertheless guarantee that he would be mercilessly harangued as an oppressor of women, and a hazard to the public weal. However, comma, if that same man changed direction suddenly, lurching, shall we say, and started writing about fur-lined handcuffs, blindfolds, and slapping the bitch around to put her in her place, we could probably find a place for him on the New York Times best seller list. And if he got himself some bling and an over-sized white windbreaker, shot a few people, and put a seething hatred of women into metrical rhyme, we could probably get him an invite to an Obama fundraiser.
Douglas Wilson

Thursday, April 7, 2016 |

“If Ray Rice had been more musical, and had treated his bitch like they all sing about”

This latter problem is a profound intellectual schizophrenia. We lionize and honor certain behaviors when there is a strong bass line and red carpet swagger, but then are shocked and horrified when someone actually does what we have been busy honoring. If Ray Rice had been more musical, and had treated his bitch like they all sing about, and stayed away from elevator cameras, he could making his reservations for a glitzy Hollywood awards banquet now. He could be a major Democratic donor.
Douglas Wilson

“slapping the bitch around to put her in her place”

Suppose we went out and found some old school missionary who wanted to insist on the missionary position for everybody. Without defending his views, I nevertheless guarantee that he would be mercilessly harangued as an oppressor of women, and a hazard to the public weal. However, comma, if that same man changed direction suddenly, lurching, shall we say, and started writing about fur-lined handcuffs, blindfolds, and slapping the bitch around to put her in her place, we could probably find a place for him on the New York Times best seller list. And if he got himself some bling and an over-sized white windbreaker, shot a few people, and put a seething hatred of women into metrical rhyme, we could probably get him an invite to an Obama fundraiser.
Douglas Wilson