Feminist Bureaucracy Rises at C-SUB

Cal State Bakersfield now features a Women and Gender Studies Department. That's rather amusing, especially considering that one of the most sexist and racist "professors" of C-SUB and of the Cal Skank bureaucracy is a member of the WGS faculty: its name rhymes with "Merry Dykowski." I am sure there are quite a few CSUB alumni who might attest to Professor Dykowski's irrational, domineering, anti-male classroom manner. The unstable, nearly hysterical Dykowski, who admits that she cannot do basic mathematics or logic (which are just part of the oppressive phallocracy, right?), has, notwithstanding her lack of basic analytical skills, forged herself quite a career as a literary parasite; one of her biggest and most profitable lies is that "all men are fascists" and that nazis were the embodiment of masculinity.

Queen Merry is known, among that union of little rhetoric-belching creeps and freaks who now make up the belle-lettrist biz, i.e., the MLA, as an "expert" in the writings of Virginia Woolf. Woolf was a mentally-ill writer who killed herself by putting stones in her jacket and jumping into a river, though she is now proclaimed as a great feminist icon. Woolf apparently hosted tea parties in some place termed Bloomsbury, and her guests included intellectuals such as Keynes and the philosophers GE Moore and Bertrand Russell. Unfortunately, the logical and scientific rigor that characterizes the writings of the economist Keynes and the philosopher Russell never penetrated Virginia's writing; instead of addressing the nature of probability or the theory of reference and meaning, Woolf instead wrote obscure, salacious novels about an aristocratic bisexual woman whom she lusted after in real life. Yet in the current academic milieu, Russell--whose Voltaire-like wit, and Apollonian reason and wisdom completely tower above the fuzzy, pop-Freudian rhetoric of Woolf--has been pretty much pushed to the side; instead it is the madwoman Woolf who represents Bloomsbury and indeed English civility and "rationalism."

Feminist scholars such as Dykowksi and the other parasites that make up the CSUB Women Studies Dept. also have no need for the logical rigor which characterized the works of men such as Keynes and Russell: researching the theory of probability or Zeno's paradoxes requires quite a bit more careful analysis and mental clarity then simply spewing out Sapphic fantasies or implying that "all men are fascists." Yet in the current academic climate of postmodernism, logic has been relegated strictly to a few corners of philosophy departments. In fact the typical feminist distrust of logic and science, and indeed even of the traditional empirical methodology of social sciences (how many fems. know what ANOVA is) leads them, more often than not, to hold beliefs and attitudes about men and about society which have no empirical support whatsoever; feminist "scholarship," if not most humanities scholarship, thus mainly consists of sweeping, vague generalizations, sometimes eloquent, but possessing no more truth than some redneck’s political and racial prejudices.

Though it's unlikely they could make it through the first paragraphs of "Of Grammatology", many feminists (such as Merry Dykowski) assume that Derrida, Lacan and crew justify their own lack of reason and evidence: "..there is no transcendental signifier, like, and reason and science are phallologocentric, just an oppressive discourse, and so we don't need any evidence for our claims." If feminists and postmodernists carried out their irrational hatred of logic and the products of logic, they would, to be consistent (though if you're in the po-mo biz consistency is not much of a concern) not drive cars, not use bridges, not use their computer (i.e. get off of the web, made up of phallocentric networking protocols and programming languages, sistah), and, indeed, never visit a doctor.

Yet the CSUB WGS Dept. will of course make use of the college website, and the faculty members--nearly all females--will commute to their state-funded offices and classrooms in their luxury cars, where they can teach classes chock-full of like-minded, hot-to-trot bisexual and lesbian women who think they are doing some deep thinking when reading Woolf's garbled, overgeneralized idiocy such as that found in "Three Guineas," or in attempting to explicate Dykowski's further mangling of reason and philosophy: all believers, if not acolytes, in the Liar's Church of Feminism.