Jobs, real jobs, and peons

Via Lileks, I discover a startling picture of abysmal obliviousness:

"But I don't know that she's ever had a real job -- I mean, since she's been grown up."

So someone who's disingenuously introduced in this same piece as a 'philanthropist' (read: a person who considers it the highest of public works to bestow fat chunks o' money-with-arbitrary-strings as ostentatiously as possible) gratuitously insults someone else who the entire universe must know worked as a librarian (and as many also know, a teacher), for not having had the "validation" of her "bigger" "life experience". Small beans, you may say. Laura was just marking time, perhaps. But she worked on her own for ten years, which is more than a lot of wimmen of that generation can say. I expect it's more than the Heinz widow, not counting being hired by relatives. And since she doesn't consider motherhood a real job, why should we count her nepotism experiences, either?

My mom got her master's and worked as a teacher before she got married. My grandmom worked practically all her life as the county librarian. Lots of ladies of many generations have done the same, with or without the advanced degree. That was a real job. Raising six (or three, or any) kids is a real job. And jeezo louise-o, putting up with Kerry's Madame, who btw turns in her taxes using only the name of her dead husband, must be more than a job-and-a-half.

Here are a few more choice statements:

"I mention my age because I find people in this country — women, not men, of course — women are so troubled by their age."

Of course. We are but little girls who await the sophisticated guidance of someone (a true cosmopolitan, apparently, neither in nor of this country) who married a rich guy who kicked the bucket. (Men, otoh [and I note that the byline appears to be a man], aren't foolish like that -- I wonder if she batted her eyes or gave a sidelong glance or patented hair-flip as she inserted the caveat?) Yeah, seeing her cavort around the country demonstrating her unconcern and inconsideration for Heinz's replacement (who so clearly enjoys spending her money but hardly seems to be able to remember her name, either) is a real buzz, quite the ideal toward which we backwoods bumpkins can only aspire.

Well, Americans who pause [at a potential First Lady who was born abroad, to two foreign parents] probably don't know history very well, because we are all from somewhere. [...] And to fear that or disparage that I don't think is American. And I never hear that out there.

Yeeeeeessss. Now I see. Any feeling that she might be condescending, might fail to serve our country and its interests, might in fact be someone we would all grow increasingly to detest for her supreme arrogance in being Not From Around Here but criticizing those who are for not being American in their attitudes ... why, we're simply wrong. Perhaps we've never had real jobs, or are not yet grown up.

I mean, wow. The layers of buffering that must surround this woman on a constant, daily, omnipresent basis have to be a mile thick. Does no one ever tell her she's a horse's ass? Because she is the purest example of offensive moronosity I've run across in, well, forever.

"...[M]y experience is a little bit bigger — because I'm older, and I've had different experiences. And it's not a criticism of her. It's just, you know, what life is about.

Bottom line: What TuhRAYzuh's life has been is what life is about. What anyone else has been/done/seen/shared is self-evidently lesser. Why, how could anyone take that as a criticism? That's just a "silly" idea some peasants might have -- none, of course, that she's ever heard (of course, the peasants with whom She interacts probably number no more than the single digits) -- and could only come from our failure to understand how "big" her heart and mind are, and anyone who persists can "shove it", because they're not being truly American.

Thanks for clearing things up, there, honey. Now run along, I'm sure you have servants to command and minions to make scatter.

ObSheesh: Sheesh.

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