The military’s Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy doesn’t surprise me. After all, these unhealthy, out-of-touch policies all stem from one old-boys-club dinosaur school: The Citadel.
The Citadel, South Carolina’s once all-male military academy, is still writhing with bitterness after losing its fight to keep Shannon Faulkner from becoming the first female cadet in the school’s chauvinist 152-year history.
It’s hard to understand why school officials think having a woman around would interfere with a traditional military education. On the other hand, the D Day surprise attack might not have turned out so well if the troops had been trained to knock before entering.
What the Citadel needs is a new legal strategy. The school should seek protection under the Endangered Species Act. It ought to declare itself a refuge for Unapologetic Masculinity, and call out the lawyers against anyone who tries to disturb the species in its natural habitat.
Say good-bye to specially constructed bedroom suites for girls. No arguments over haircuts, no Midol in the first-aid kits, no need to make those class rings in women’s sizes.
Hey, nobody tells a spotted owl to be more sensitive.
Women would like to be promptly escorted off the premises. Bothersome questions of constitutional rights just melt away when the future of a species is at stake. And rightly so. Extinction, after all, is permanent.
And if ever a species were threatened, it is this one. From locker rooms to law firms, Unapologetic Masculinity is under fire. Even in that once-sacred preserve of testosterone, junior high school, a boy can’t snap a bra these days without triggering a sexual harassment conference.
So, The Citadel can save its own skin, and preserve an important part of American history at the same time. There hasn’t been an opportunity like this since the last automotive bailout.
Those federal dollars will really flow once the school’s new mission is established. The cadets will need plenty of weight benches, eight cylinder engines, TV remote controls, and big stereo speakers. They’ll probably want a four-year supply of Arnold Schwarzenegger movies. And you just can’t have too many satellite dishes during the football season.
Excessive you say?
Well, can we do less for the cadets than we did for the condors?
The benefits to society may not be apparent to everyone. But soft-spoken docents will educate the public on daily tours of the grounds.
“Take nothing but pictures,” they’ll say. “Leave nothing but footprints.”
Visitors will be led past groups of cadets roaming free on the campus, unrestricted by sensitivity guidelines.
“Listen to them closely,” the docent will whisper. “At one time, the entire Earth was populated by men who would say things like that, and not be sued.”
Nostalgic Navy officers, aging corporate CEOs, and half the United States Senate will be drawn to The Citadel for that wonderful flood of warm memories.
The Citadel will need those friends in high paces when the lawsuits start. The local homeowners will be filing complaints over the noise from the Saturday afternoon tractor pulls.
Some people just don’t appreciate nature.
And when the first feminists sneak past security, there’s going to be trouble. They’ll be in court before you can say Victoria’s Secret, demanding to tear the centerfolds right off the walls of barracks.
“Motion denied,” the judge will tell the offended females. “You may not destroy the habitat of a protected species.”
The Citadel will thrive under its new status. This strategy will almost guarantee that the school forever will be full of swaggering, macho men who treat all women as mindless sexual playthings.
Oops. I shouldn’t have asked. I forgot about that pesky Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy.
But, hey, consider the source.
Bye for now.