Christina Hoff Sommers on the university war against the penis:
“Testaclese” tipped the scales when he approached the university Provost, Edward J. Kavanagh, outside the student union. Apparently taking him/it for a giant mushroom, Provost Kavanagh cheerfully greeted him. But when Testaclese presented him with an honorary award as a campus “Penis Warrior,” the stunned official realized that it was no mushroom. After this incident, which was recorded on videotape, the promoters of P-Day were ordered to cease circulating their flyers and to keep Testaclese off campus grounds. Mindful of how school officers had never once protested any of the antics of Vagina warriors, the P-warriors did not comply. The Testaclese costume was then confiscated and formal charges followed.
It is easy to understand why school officials would not want a six-foot phallus wandering around campus; nor why they would ask students not to paper the college with posters describing all the things it likes to do. But that is just the sort of thing the vagina warriors have been doing, year after year, on hundreds of campuses. In fact, P-Day at Roger Williams was mild by comparison. Wesleyan College hosted a “C***” workshop; Penn State held a “C***”-fest. At Arizona State, students displayed a 40-foot inflatable plastic vagina. It was not confiscated and no one was ever threatened with probation.
Penis penis penis penis penis penis song. Penis penis penis penis penis all day long… great, now I’ve got that melody in my head. The worst thing is I don’t know if it’s an actual song or just something that goofball Bowen made up.
Anyhow, as I’ve said before, merciless confrontation of the sort described here is the most effective way to rout feminists. They are complete cowards who can’t handle finding themselves on the defensive and as long as you pay attention to make sure they can’t stab you in the back when you’re not looking, you’ll win every time. The only way they have ever one is when the other side simply concedes the battle.
In college, the White Buffalo, Big Chilly and I were publicly accused of being “sexist pornographers” in our college newspaper and the WB was actually brought up on university charges of sexual harassment. (Given who he was charged with harassing, I think he had one heck of a case for slander. Think “shaved gorilla”.) But the WB’s bold insistence on marching into the Dean’s office to meet the charges wearing nothing but his tidy whities combined with a pair of my scathingly brutal responses in the paper caused his accuser to be sentenced to 40 hours of campus trash cleanup, turned our leading feminist group into a complete laughingstock and caused the newspaper reporter who started the whole thing to dissolve in tears because everyone was convinced she was a bitter lesbian.