July 07, 2004

Men With Ponytails Recently, we,

Men With Ponytails

Recently, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” received an e-mail from a woman who preferred to remain nameless. This gal—let’s just call her Jill Eastman of Rochester, NY—wondered why so many editions of our humble “weblog” seem to poke fun at the weaker sex. Why, in short, do we spend so much of our time aiming our satirical barbs at the ladies? Does this speak to any psychological issues on the part of the crack young staff?

To which we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” respond: Hold up, there, Jill. As we have mentioned countless times before, almost 47 percent of our staff is female, and they deeply disprove of the notion that they—in the inimitable words of our friends on the Left—are “internalizing the oppressor.”

Truth be told, our desultory ruminations on sundry irritants are in no way specifically directed at women. Indeed, we find this insinuation irksome. So irksome, in fact, that we are happy to inform our manifold readers that Jill Eastman of Rochester, NY’s real name is Judith Hadrill of Dover, DE. How do you like them apples, Judy?

On second thought, maybe Judith is on to something. Whilst perusing last month’s posts, the Official Perusal Department of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” couldn’t help but notice that females—or, as they prefer to be called, broads—were often the targets of opprobrium.

Accordingly, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have decided to rectify matters by turning our attention to the "fellahs." Today’s edition of our humble “weblog” doesn’t make fun of any women. Not even Serena Williams (if she counts). On the contrary: Those unhygienic disgraces known as “men” are the only people who will be disparaged. Without further ado, then, let the thrashing begin.

During a certain period of American history—let’s say from May 9, 1982 to October 23, 1984—a man sporting a ponytail was super-cool. To misquote Gordon Gecko, ponytails were, for lack of a better word, good.

Then Ronald Reagan began his second term, and any reasonable person should have concluded that the whole ponytail thing was about as hip as an 8-track machine. Once Caspar Weinberger left office, male ponytails became a tonsorial eyesore.

Alas, dear reader, apparently not every male has proved quick to catch up with this reality. Some fellows have blithely sported this menace for decades. It’s like wearing an acid-washed jean jacket—and not being in Europe.

As if the male ponytail weren’t troublesome enough, those who sport such hairdos normally wield their utopian political sentiments in about as subtle a manner as the average Howitzer. One simply can’t sit through a conversation with a ponytail clad imbecile without enduring his mindless prattling about the evils of capitalism, the horrors of the military-industrial complex, and the righteous pacifism of the Palestinian people.

To such ponytailed nitwits, what really rankles is the fact that so many Americans are thoughtless automatons. Why, think the ponytailed males, can’t these benighted folks think just like all of us?

Why, indeed?

Posted at July 7, 2004 12:01 AM | TrackBack