Dear reader, it is your duty to memorize these signs of stroke. Use the helpful FAST mnemonic. F = Face: ask the victim to smile; does one side of her face droop? A = Arms: ask the victim to raise both arms; does one drift downward? S = Speech: ask the victim to name the pioneers of feminist philosophy; does she babble? T = Time: if you notice any of these signs, call 911 immediately.
I’ll soon be asking for volunteers to stand by at the gates of universities and by the doors of newsrooms all across America. When? As soon as Costanza Miriano’s Cásate y Sé Sumisa is translated into English.
Before I tell you more, bear in mind the old sayings about the folly of shooting the messenger.
The title means—and I hope you’re sitting down—Get Married and Be Submissive. You thought there was a “flap” over Duck Dynasty’s Phil Robertson quoting the Bible on the sinfulness of homosexual behavior? Wait for the tsunami-hurricane-earthquake-blizzard-fire-from-heaven storm that will be unleashed once American professional women are told “we are not equal to men and to not recognise this is a guaranteed source of suffering.”
I expect New York and LA to resemble Tokyo after a stroll through by Godzilla after our liberated (can we still call them?) ladies hear “you must submit to [your husband]. When you have to choose between what he likes and what you like, choose in his favour…when your husband tells you something, you should listen as if it were God speaking.”
Maureen Dowd will shoot fire through her nostrils and threaten to update Are Men Necessary? (At least we’ll learn whether Pajama Boy’s sleepwear is fire retardant.) The set of The View will look like a remake of Scanners. The inhabits of women’s “studies” departments that don’t stroke out will sharpen their pencils and furiously write internal grants and triple dog dare their colleagues not to take them seriously.
Reporteresses will storm across the country in the search any politician who can be found saying anything which isn’t derogatory of la Signora Miriano. If a Republican can be found (Democrats will be forgiven) to utter something as tepid as “I don’t agree with Miriano, but I support her right to free speech,” he will be vilified as engaging in a war on women. The attack against him will be so relentless that even after a groveling apology, a large donation to NOW, and his announcement that he’s voluntarily signed up for sensitivity training won’t be enough to save him.
Waves of feminist activists, after being exposed to the “hurtful” words “A husband can’t resist a woman who respects him, who acknowledges his authority, who devotes herself loyally to listening to him, to remaining at his side,” will mass in the streets and organize book burnings and make pacts to never marry.
For weeks you won’t be able to turn on the television and not be treated to a commentator screeching at some man in the manner of Mrs Schwartz answering the phone in A Christmas Story. We will be assured by PhD-wielding talking heads that the words (my translation; original halfway down) “It’s true, you’re still not an experienced cook or a perfect housekeeper. What is wrong if I admit this?” are equivalent to committing “violence” on women.
Planned Parenthood apparatchiks, spitting mad, will pen op-eds that a woman’s “right” to choose to kill is in imminent jeopardy, that clocks (and not calendars) are being turned back to 1950
I’m telling you. The return of the Lord Himself won’t make as much noise. This will be big. Get ready to fire up the popcorn, sit back, and enjoy the ride.