Sandra Fluke; The Ancient Tale

A thousand years before Noah ever laid axe to tree, a handsome young lad held a pretty young lass in his arms and told her that if she refused him the ultimate fulfillment of the passion that raged in his bosom for her, he must surely perish. The pretty lass gazed long into his dreamy eyes, breathed a trembling sigh,  and believed him.

Since that day uncounted armies of dreamy-eyed lads have used that line on countless trembling young lasses with a rate of success that does no credit to the daughters of Eve.

Now comes Sandra Fluke, a thirty year old law student, who has decided that what works for men might work for women.

Appearing before a panel of Democratic party grandmothers and fathers, Ms Fluke [ I can’t shake the image of Barry Fitzgerald standing erect in his official matchmakers suit and introducing the lady as “spinster”] has testified that the passions raging in the earnest bosoms of millions of young coeds must be satisfied to the tune of a thousand dollars a year or they will surely perish. The grandmothers and fathers of the Democratic party all gazed long into her dreamy eyes, breathed a trembling sigh, and believed her.

It’s rather comforting to see that the ancient ways are equal to the times. It gives one a sense of continuity like watching a farrier shape a horseshoe or a fisherman rowing a dory.

But, it is troubling that so many grandmothers and fathers can be so lacking in common wisdom as to fall for such a dusty, weathered, wrinkled , and time-worn line as this.

Blessent mon cœur d’une langeur monotone
[ wounds my heart with a monotonous languor ]

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Posted on March 13, 2012, in Where This Road Goes and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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