about whether to consider myself a feminist. Then I read something like this, and I think to myself, no way, Jose. Someone else is gonna have to rehabilitate that word. I’m not getting within 100 yards of anyone so insanely prickly. How do they even function when they’re bristling with rage all the time? How do they even manage to get enough oxygen circulating through their wizened little hearts, when every breath they take is saturated with toxic levels of imaginary sexism? What a cold, hard world it is for people who . . . really get off on thinking it’s a cold hard world. My stars.
