And a mystery is solved. A monkey can use a computer.
. . if you look twice at news women, it’s hard not to think; “pole dancer.” Some media babes even help with suggestive stage names. Katty Kay of BBC and CPB comes to mind; surely not as bold as Pussy Galore, but much more aggressive than Kitty Whatshername.
Nightly news as a sandbox. Kay isn’t an Oxford toff, she’s a luscious nymph. I imagine this baboon spotting Katty at a restaurant and then chasing her around the bar, knocking over chairs. C’mere you little tease! You want it! With that name!
In spite of all the puffing about talent and sexual equality, the attributes most admired in news chicks are visual; face, décolletage, weight, and youth. Literacy or intelligence is not necessarily a show stopper if a girl has better twins, or legs, than a teleprompter.
Post inventory: we have ‘pole dancer,’ ‘babes,’ ‘chicks,’ ‘pussy,’ ‘kitty,’ and ‘twins.’ And we’ve got the mis-application of ‘show stopper.’ Watson! Holmes? The demonstration of intelligence. Yes, well, it’s the ‘American Thinker.’ Didn’t people also call something ‘Mount Hood’? Well Katty probably straddled a bank robber 10,000 feet in the sky.
Yes, yes; there are exceptions. Call them tokens if you will. Andrea Mitchell, Doris Kerns Goodwin, Diane Rehm, and Barbara Walters would hardly qualify as spring chickens or eye candy.
Kearns, good. Say man, why do TV hags even exist? Do you know?
Media matrons are a testimony to tenure or the need to service homely, geriatric, or liberal demographics. Indeed, the public airways are no slouch when it comes to tokens. American Public Broadcasting has at least one aging, zaftig, black, female anchor.
He doesn’t go as far as ‘cadaverous‘ or ‘wildebeest‘, but ‘female’ orphaned of ‘naked’ is horrible enough.