A goddess on a mountain top...
...was burning like a silver flame.
The summit of beauty and love,
And Venus was her name.
image courtesy of somethingawful.com
For the past week or so, columnist Michelle Malkin has been taking a vacation from her video weblog at Hotair, leaving the spotlight to others of like mind. This week it was Mary Katharine Ham. She mentioned some local personality on her webcast, and in a moment of weakness, Mary Katharine got the best of me:
Unfortunately, you got me curious about Jackie Passey. Next thing you know, I was going through her archives trying to figure out why she broke up with her boyfriend, especially after he bought that sports car of his. (And don't think for a moment that women don't get off on guys with fast cars. I've lost to one of those things one time too many during my misspent youth. But enough about me...) I even looked on his blog. My only guess is he was way too much into his poker game.
Why do I care? This is all your fault, you know that?
Especially since I already knew Mormons were allowed to dance. They have to do something to get their heart started since they can't drink coffee...
That was when she was kind enough to direct my attention to the full story:
Dating tip: Quality dates quality
...not to mention some color commentary elsewhere on the net:
The Perfect Girl For Allah (And Everyone Else, But Only If You're A Quality Man)
The short story is, the announcement of Jackie breaking up with her boyfriend has immediately led to no end of e-mail offers, from gentlemen who appear to have an inflated view of their place on the food chain that is her universe. This collective lack of discernment has left her quite annoyed, and left with no choice but to clear the air. The thing is, she might be right. Following a typical "ugly duckling" girlhood, Miss Passey began a self-made makeover, transforming herself into an intelligent, successful, and beautiful swan -- the kind of gal who, as we'd say back where I came from, "never has to fly coach." Why should the likes of her settle for some average mope who thinks he has her number without ever having met her?
Her weapons were her crystal eyes,
Making every man mad.
Black as the dark night she was
Got what no one else had.
To hear Miss Jackie tell it, it probably helps if you're an atheist.
I suppose I have the benefit of being roughly twice the age of most of the audience here. (That's just a wild guess, mind you. For all the hell I know, there may be lots of people in their fifties who still see matters of the heart in this way.) There is a great deal of emphasis on the importance of her resumé, as well as that of any prospective suitor. Even some of her detractors dwell on the surface qualities, some insisting that she's not so good looking. Some of them are rather mean about it. I happen to disagree, as she really is quite lovely. But it's relatively easy to be when you're under thirty (her efforts at the makeover notwithstanding) when most of it is hereditary. The trick is to maintain it when you're forty, or fifty, after two or three kids, and the ups and downs of a full life. Now, Ms Passey makes it very clear what she wants out of that life, and children isn't one of them. That's also easy when you're under thirty.
The Book of Proverbs tells us: "Charm is fleeting and beauty fades." (31:30) I am not about to deny Ms Passey the merits of her success, as I'm prepared to take her word for what she has made of herself. Then again, there is a different set of priorities when it comes to the things that really last. In the years since my own marriage tanked, I've spoken with a number of women who "married well." They had it all, and it wasn't everything. Then one day they lost it. Some walked away from it, while others lost it to betrayal.
Our heroine may be much smarter than that, of course, and I for one wish her no ill. But life is often more like chess than like poker, and the odds could take this young lady either way. Fortunately, at least one of the respondents knows this:
Though I be slimmer that 62% of American women and have not love,
I am become as jiggling cellulite and sagging jowls.
And though I have an actual bachelor's degree and an IQ that can remove mountains and have not love,
I am nothing.
And though I do have my financial shit together and have not love,
it profith me nothing.
Love suffereth long and is kind, even to men who want children.
Love envieth not people who think Ayn Rand was a pompous fraud and yet seem to lead happy and fulfilled lives.
Love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doeth not behave itself unseemly -- but it ain't bragging if it's true, man.
Seeketh not her own, at least not until she decides where her own is going to live.
Is not easily provoked, even by towering arrogance.
Thinketh no evil, not even of fat single mothers.
Bareth all things, though usually not at HotOrNot.com.
Believeth all things, though one hopes not to the extent of interpreting Cylon porn fanfic as literally true.
Hopeth all things, even unto becoming bilingual.
Endureth all things, even Buffy message boards.
Love never fails, unlike Libertarian candidates.
To hear "misterniceguy1960" tell it, it probably helps if you're NOT an atheist.
In the meantime, lest we forget...
She's got it, yeah baby she's got it.
I'm your Venus, I'm your fire, at your desire.
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("Venus" music and lyrics by Van Leeuwen, first recorded by the band "Shocking Blue" in 1969.)