In 2014, Relaunching the Barbaric Yawping Vagina of Fury!

Having spent half a day — far too much time – perusing the headlines and growing more and more disturbed by them, I find I am in a mood.

Such a mood, I am in.

It’s not a mood I get into often, and my brother, may he rest in peace, used to warn me about it; he said it was a mood of fury that only gay men were truly permitted to unleash and dally with, because only they could wield it with enough diplomatic style to keep people both informed and entertained; only they could inflict the pain without leaving a mark, thus permitting some face-saving. People could get told and still know they were fabulous.

My brother was a gentleman and a gentle man, who could not bear to be at-odds with anyone. It was his misfortune to have to deal with a “cry havoc” of a sister, always letting loose the dogs or war or — more accurately — unleashing her vulgar Warrior Vagina on a world desperately in need of a few good sense-enducing endometrial thwacks and the resolute mockery of raspberries, blown unendingly from the depths of the cervix.

Call it a kind of mothering — out of my depths I cry unto the world: “grow the hell up!” Thwack, thwack!

I mean, I want to be loving, I really do, and 2013 has been a year where I’ve made some real progress in learning about love. One thing I’ve learned is that there must be no limits to love. And I’m trying to be limitless. And yet…and yet…

And yet, as we call an end to this relentless toothache of a year, there are, as Lana Kane might say, “a couple things”:

Primo: When exactly when did the nation transition from the USA to USSA — the Untrustworthily Surveillanced States of America; the Ubiquitously Spy-Saturated America; the Unfree, Security-Strangled America; the Unhinged, Solemnly Scolding America — the place where this happens, and this, and this, and this, and this and this and this, and this, and this, and this (related). . .

And that’s just broad, basic privacy-and-abuse stuff. That’s not even getting into the IRS bothering perceived political enemies; that’s not even getting into the subtle conceptual differences between Freedom of Religion and Freedom of Worship and how they are being played with by our betters in power, while the rest of us are distracted with our iphones. That’s not even getting into the governmental lying, presidential lying, or the mainstream media lying (that is, when members of the press were not being spied on and threatened with arrest for doing their jobs).

Secundo: On the social front, is it time, finally, to lose patience with people who break Every. Fecking. Thing. Down to how much it offends their gender-sensibilities? I mean, I’m a tolerant and sympathetic girl on that note (I am, after all, the “Mamabear of the New Homophiles”, among other things) but by God, I have had all I can stand of people — male and female — who see a masculine pronoun and find their real-or-sympathetically-induced estrogen surges leaving them all a-tremble with indignation and plotzing faints. 2014 is going to be the year I must relaunch my barbaric yawping vagina on a confused world that seems to have succumbed to a state of chronic vapors whenever anything is 1) characterized as — gasp — masculine and then 2) actually praised!

As is true with atheism when it trends foppishly elitist, I’m pretty sure it’s only a certain sort of person who can afford this overstuffed fainting couch. Time to throw it the hell out, grow up and realize that it’s a complementary world, baby; that we need our women and we need our men, and we need everybody to be treated well. If once upon a time society needed to learn that “women are as good as men” — not, you will note, “exactly the same” as men, but just as valuable — then it seems we’re past-time to reverse the lesson: men are as good as women! Just as valuable. Just as worthy of respect.

I’m sick of watching people who preach tolerance and forbearance on one hand reflexively sticking it to men and boys, and anything that is perceived as “masculine” anytime they can, with impunity. Grow up. Get the hell over it.

And while we’re over it, everyone, finally, get over the red shoes! They’ve become an ungenerous code for Benedict XVI-haters who seem to forget, as they sneer over footwear, that Good Pope John (that would be Blessed Pope John XXIII, who ordered the Second Vatican Council) wore the red shoes. You know, the symbol of the blood of martyrs that have led the church to this day. Only the most superficial of people do not understand the point of the red shoes, or think there is something righteous, admirable or (God help us!) cool in denouncing them.

But let us resist yawping about the members of the Church of What’s Happening Now and the demi gods who act as arbiters for the sin of being out-of-touch. Who has time to start that?

Still, there is a lot to yawp about, coming into 2014, because if we do not yawp, we will be too-easily distracted by the mindless lies that people convince themselves are true, because they want the lie — they want the lie if it validates their own sense of victimhood, the lies that have kept us so helpfully distracted these past twelve months: the stupid one, that kids using their imaginations will become confused about reality; the stale one about a “war on women” that should be ashamed of itself in the face of reality, and the still-fermenting one suggesting that a matter of conscience on one issue (marriage) automatically translates into deep, abiding hatreds and comprehensive prejudices.

That last is a particularly cold and ugly lie — being promulgated by people who used to pride themselves on their gift for nuanced-thinking — because the people spreading it know it is untrue, but they don’t care.

Yes, let us yawp our way through 2014, even though Robert J. Samuelson says it might be better than 2013, because “better” is such a subjective valuation, and no matter how much (or how measurably) things improve economically — or how much we believe that “it’s the economy, stupid” — if we are still being spied on, lied to and socially manipulated into hating each other for the sake of the next person who wants to be in charge of whatever this union has become, yawping will be our only release.

That, and prayer, of course.

Christ has made a wreck of me. A better one than I was, though, for nine years into the blog, my best brawls and rancorous denunciations are directed inward, towards my own follies and foibles, and on the rare occasion when they trend outward, as with this post, my conscience kicks in; it prevents the blade-betwixt-teeth full-on assaults of my prosaic, hell-bound past, as I realize that the shadows have lengthened and Vespers is nigh, and Purgatory may yet be mine.

Night is falling, literally; as a day closes out, a Benedictine salutes it with praise for the Creator, and settles in for rest. When dawn comes, there is praise again. As much as my nature will always tempt me toward the yawp, I truly prefer the prayer, and the praise. If I am feeling called to do both in the 2014, I hope it is mostly the latter.

Happy New Year.

About Elizabeth Scalia
  • tj.nelson

    Mama Bear needs to hibernate. Kidding. I like Mama Bear.
    What’s a vagina?

  • MeanLizzie

    YAWP!

    What I really need is a retreat. A whole week one.

  • tj.nelson

    It gets better – but you already know that. Big hug!

  • Colleen

    Ha! Love reading you. I bought your book (well, 4 of your books) and I learned so much that I don’t have a book left-they all went to other homes to do some work-I hope! Anyway, I laughed when I read this, and then I thought of this… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A-yZNMWFqvM
    “for he who sheds his blood with me this day shall be my brother” ;)

  • Ann

    Thanks. Love the mood.

  • Adam Frey

    Well, that’s a headline to beat all headlines.

  • Adam Frey

    While I’m at it, there’s some ad to the left of the comments that is, no kidding, computer-generated women jiggling their breasts and buttocks at the camera. They’re wearing swimsuits, but my sensibilities are, uh, affected nonetheless. I realize this is outside your and possibly Patheos’ control, but is there any way to click off ads or at least notify you if they bother us? I notice that over at Instapundit, you can now click an “X” on his ads and make them disappear. If Patheos could add a similar feature in the future, that’d be cool.

  • http://ashesfromburntroses.blogspot.com/ Manny

    And this from a woman who claims to be shy? LOL, hmmm.

  • MeanLizzie

    Sorry about that ad. We’re trying to get it out of here. Not always easy, unfortunately, but we’re trying.

  • tj.nelson

    Oh crap! I looked it up for myself. I think maybe you should see a doctor!

    “The vagina (from Latin vāgīna, literally “sheath” or “scabbard”) is a fibromuscular elastic tubular tract which is a sex organ and has two main functions: sexual intercourse and childbirth. In humans, this passage leads from the opening of the vulva to the uterus (womb), but the vaginal tract ends at the cervix. Unlike men, who have only one genital orifice, women have two, the urethra and the vagina. The vaginal opening is much larger than the urethral opening, and both openings are protected by the labia.[1][2] The inner mould of the vagina has a foldy texture which can create friction for the penis during intercourse. During arousal, the vagina gets moist to facilitate the entrance of the penis.

    The Latinate plural “vaginae” is rarely used in English. Colloquially, the word vagina is often used to refer to the vulva or to the female genitals in general.[3] However, by its dictionary and anatomical definitions, vagina refers exclusively to the specific internal structure.”
    It said absolutely nothing about yawping.
    What?
    Happy New Year!

  • Gail Finke

    AAAAA this is hilarious. I somehow missed the original “yawping vagina” post, ROTFL. I’ve been doing some yawping myself today on a Facebook post about people who do not believe in evolution. I do believe in evolution, although I don’t believe it accounts for the origin of life, but honestly — people on this thread were saying that those who don’t “believe in evolution” (which of course means a whole lot more to them than a scientific explanation for how things change) should not be able to vote or hold office and might endanger the health of the PLANET (because apparently their lack of belief in evolution might lead them to not to finish their courses of antibiotics and thus unleash antibiotic-resistant germs on good, evolution-fearing folk everywhere). Talk about ignorance of and contempt for others!

  • Sherry Weddell

    Re: red shoes. Um – I didn’t know that Pope wore red shoes or what they signified and I’m not exactly a clueless outsider. I hadn’t know any Pope but JPII who wore er. . . brown shoes . . . or so I’m told and who had been Pope since before the Flood.

    So when people starting posting pictures online – that was my first exposure to the whole idea – cause left to my own devices, I would never have known or cared what kind of shoes a Pope wears.

    And the meaning of red shoes was anything but obvious *to me* since red shoes that “look expensive” – at least online – do not naturally remind me of “martyrdom”. (They are more likely to remind me of “Mardi Gras” but then I grew up in New Orleans . . .) When I realized Benedict was wearing red shoes, it caused the mildest of surprise and then I would have forgotten it again – if only the Catholic online community would have let me.

    All of which is say that while I realize that this post was a barbaric yawp, not knowing or caring about the meaning of the color of papal shoes is not the same as being “anti-Benedict’ or “superficial” or anything but an ordinary Catholic. Who like 99.9% of the Catholics in the world knows nothing about the history of papal clothing and naturally interpret images of a Pope’s red or black shoes in light of the clothing norms they are familiar with.

    In the 21st century, a man wearing red shoes looks fancy and extraordinary. Shabby black shoes look like the shoes your grandfather wore. The reaction of most people is no more political or theological or sinister than that.

    In the 19th century, only visitors to the papal court would have seen the Pope’s red shoes and only the most privileged or committed ever got the chance. In the 21st century, the internet has greatly magnified the impact of all visual symbols and made it available to everyone – insiders and outsiders – instantly. We have yet to come to terms with that. if you spend time in the Catholic blogosphere, you will inundated with close-ups of said shoes on your computer screen with commentary that informs you breathlessly that “the shoes” represent a charged historical moment about which you *must* have a strong opinion or your orthodoxy and faithfulness is questionable. Give thou me a break.

    I have stood in the Vatican’s 15th century papal robing room which was very cool. But I still don’t care what color the Pope’s shoes are as long they enable him to lead us to Jesus in the heart of his Church.

    And I’ll never spontaneously think “martyrdom” if I glimpse the Pope’s shoes. I won’t notice his shoes because I’ll be looking at his face for the light of Christ.

  • Steve

    “In 2014, Relaunching the Barbaric Yawping Vagina of Fury!”

    I really could have gone without that image.

  • Gerald

    I don’t get any ads like this. Try running an extension called AdBlock in your browser. I think it is available for most of them. I run it in Firefox and Safari.

  • tibby

    God Bless! The Anchoress unleashed – So glad to see your’e still here! I’ve missed the yawping

  • Nicky

    Absolutely loved your yawp and love you, too! Wishing you a wonderful 2014.

  • lilo

    Could you and other assorted bloggers out there PLEASE stop referring to those in power as “our betters”, our “moral superiors”, and the “elite” by such names. ” So-called” or “self-styled” should be placed in front of each term as often as it is used. I realize that this is sometimes meant as sarcasm, but to those in power such names probably just regard those sobriquets as their due, and feed their already gigantic egos and sense of entitlement. They are no better than we are.


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