In my previous post I quoted Jezebel Managing Editor Joanna Rothkopf. From her Bio at Bustle, she is a walking, breathing, men’s sphere cliché:
Joanna is a New York-based writer and performer. Her work has appeared in Vanity Fair, The Atlantic, Foreign Policy, The Huffington Post, and Epicurious.com, among others, and her body has performed at UCB, Standup NY and the Secret Theater, among others. She is currently a Robert Wood Johnson Foundation Fellow in Science and Health Journalism at Columbia University and holds degrees in Literary Studies and French from Middlebury College. She loves her cat like a son.
More specifically, Rothkopf is what The Other McCain calls The Writer, in ‘Broken People,’ Cats and Prozac:
Cats. Of course, she’s got cats. Did I mention she’s 29? And an alumna of New School University (2014-15 tuition $41,836)? Also, you may not be surprised to learn, Ms. Stokes lives in Brooklyn.
See, this is the thing with young feminist writer types nowadays. They can’t go to Podunk State University. No, they must attend one of those private schools where annual tuition is at or near the median U.S. household income. This is the only way to become that glorious being, The Writer. And, probably because as girls dreaming of becoming The Writer, they watched a sitcom or movie about the lives of quirky bachelorettes in Brooklyn, they simply must live there after graduation.
Well, you may ask, what does The Writer write about?
Herself, of course! Do these elite colleges offer a major in Solipsism Studies nowadays?
Going through the list for official scoring:
- Cats? Check!
- Went to an expensive private university? Check!
- Lives in Brooklyn? Here Rothkopf only gets partial credit, but NYC is the next best thing for The Writer.
- Writes about herself? Check! Check! Check!
From Rothkopf’s Teen Diary: ‘I Get a Little Teenage Girl Privalege Right Now’:
Growing up, I had upwards of 15 diaries—none of them finished, or even really given a chance to thrive. I’d buy one at the beginning of camp or if I was in a bookstore, sit on my bed, write six pages about how I wanted to be a writer, and then immediately forget about my diary and never return to it.
This is the solipsism Hat Trick, with Rothkopf writing about herself writing about how she wanted to write (about herself).