MOTUS A.D.: The War on Women continues…

Sunday, May 20, 2012

The War on Women continues…

Four words: Champagne socialists, caviar dreams

Who is that little man at the “head” of the round table? King Arthur? Gatsby? Dmitry? Maybe it’s Angie – who followed his advice and fought not just for a “seat at the table” butt “the head seat” – as BO instructed the Barnard graduates to do.

No, silly, that’s Big Guy!

The leader of the free world! You can tell that he’s the one holding court because he has his elbows on the table, with his hands clasped together in that ~~imperialist~~ stately way of his. This is the dinner party on Friday night at Camp David, opening the G-8 summit. Although, if I’m counting correctly, it looks like somebody’s having trouble with math again.

After dinner, like a bunch of excited little girls, they stayed up all night talking, telling stories and eating s’mores. Then towards daybreak Big Guy ~~lectured~~ reminded them that they were there to “hopefully… get some stuff done.” No, not nuclear Iran. Not the continuing destruction of the world economy; something more critical to Big Guy’s reelection: women’s empowerment.

h/t Gateway Pundit

I suppose Campbell Brown’s going to say he’s just pandering again, butt unempowered women are what led to the creation of all those expensive safety nets that Julia has to rely on throughout her life. Indeed, it’s Julia’s lack of empowerment that has led to her faceless, formless, feckless life.

Unfortunately after covering the important issue of the economic empowerment of women there wasn’t enough time left to discuss the educational and political empowerment of women. If you want to learn about how women (especially in Islamic countries) are faring on those fronts, you’ll have to read about it in Mona Eltahawy’s article. (h/t bettyann)

Big Guy did have some economic discussions with France’s new Socialist leader, Francois Hollande, on Friday afternoon before departing for the campfire dinner.

BO and Francois compared notes on the benefits of an elitist university education, their mutual dislike of the wealthy, and shared some thoughts on the best way to redistribute the ill-gotten wealth of the 1% in order to avoid austerity measures that the proletariat always finds distasteful. They also chatted about the pros and cons of owning vs. renting vacation properties in fabulously wealthy enclaves.

And I think Big Guy wrangled an invite to occupy one of Francois’ 3 villas on the Riviera for a few weeks. Although we probably won’t be able to go as a family until after the reelection, we may send Lady M and Princess Warren ahead as a scouting party. Fortunately, the Rottweiler will not be on premise when the WONs visit.

Because as you can see, that would never work:

Please, let this arrogant French Champagne Socialist get food poisoning and go home!

Plus, she wears stockings! Who does that?

Which reminds me: Lady M hosted the G-8 spouses for a tour of the Big White on Friday and served them a special lunch prepared by visiting super-celebrity chef José Andrés (gazpacho, Maryland rockfish with asparagus, grapefruit, Virginia berries, weeds from the Big White garden and caramelized (!) olive oil; and for dessert, a tangerine sorbet with Virginia strawberries; doesn’t sound very super-chefy to me).

Okay, who wants Absolut straight up, and who wants the white wine?

Why can’t you ladies keep up with me?

Meanwhile Big Guy was off to Camp David where he waited for hours for his guests to show up before giving up and turning in to catch a few winks:

I guess they’re not coming after all.

Oh wait! There they are! I guess their bus driver didn’t have GPS.

Come on guys! We’ve got a whole bunch a stuff to get done!

Then we graciously posed for keepsakes with all of our old and new friends:

“I can’t talk now Dmitry, meet me round back after midnight.”

So Angie, need any tips on how to how to restructure that debt?

After the chuck wagon dinner, campfire, press conference and a little shut eye we were off to Chicago for the NATO conference and anarchist convention, where we were greeted by our old friend Rhambo who, as you can see, has forgotten all about that knife in his back.