Or did she just feel like taking it easy and tossing out a column on nudie teen pix that adds absolutely nothing to the discussion? She should leave the cranky-old-person stuff to Alex Beam - he's much better at it (although I do like the related poll that includes this option: "Nobody ever sends me sexy photos"). Maybe she's still getting over the journalistic disappointment of not being groped on the Red Line the other day or something.
Margery Eagan is aghast that kids today swear like sailors. Why, back in her day, kids NEVER swore! And they walked uphill both ways in a blizzard to school. And they liked it!
You're busy, so let me sum up Margery Eagan's column today, just in case you don't have the time to read it all:
I'm a woman. I don't like Hillary Clinton. Therefore, women who voted for her wish they could be married to Bill Clinton, and that disgusts me.
Seems Margery Eagan didn't refer to Barack "Osama" once yesterday, but three times. At least the Herald's fixed it online.
Margery Eagan writes some "Oh, mercy, I'm coming down with the vapors!" column about would-be Republican First Ladies showing off their decolletage, and suddenly she's the focus of blinding, white hot fury by Southern Republicans who accuse her of being another Goddamn Yankee Liberal (wait, what? How did I miss the memo that we're all opposed to plunging necklines now?).
The Charleston Daily Mail thunders:
The ever-liberal Eagan wants "Cindy McCain to button up."
That this prudish call comes from a liberal does not surprise me. Over the years "progressives" have wanted us to prohibit the sale of alcohol and to ban smoking and to cover up. ...
OK, I suppose the newspaper of record in a town that still refers to the "War of Northern Aggression" would consider somebody like Eagan to the left of Leon Trotsky (and it's not like she called Fred Thompson's wife a stripper) but when did modesty and prudery become Official Liberal Positions? Does this mean we've ceded our oversight of America's moral turpitude (through our hand on the jugular of popular culture) to Sam Brownback? Nobody in the cabal ever tells me anything anymore!
Via Jules Crittenden.
Tomorrow, the Herald will likely run a Margery Eagan column on the ways some people in their 20s chronicle every last second of their lives via online photos and videos.
After I got off the phone with her, I realized that, oy, taken out of context, some of the things I said could make it seem like I'm one of those curmudgeonly "kids today!" types, with my pants up to my chest as I yell at you to get offa my Internets, dammit, when I actually think this whole thing is pretty cool. Plus, the basic idea really isn't any different than the Super-8 movies and scrapbooks that Margery and I remember from our youths - except you don't have to wait for the photos to come back from the lab (and, well, they can make it easier for complete strangers to snicker at you).
'Course, I'm probably just being paranoid and I'm sure Margery, a fine columnist, won't make it sound like I hate everybody under 30. But just in case: I don't.
Eagan talked to me even after learning I was well past 20-somethingness myself. Dunno if she knew about this.
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