Lindsay Clancy Democrats: A Girl for Luigi

I guess the Lindsay Clancy trial has put an end to that whole thing about a woman being president. Clancy has become a feminist hero for slaughtering her three children, whose names, in case anyone cares, were Cora, 5, Dawson, 3, and Callan, 8 months.

For that brave response to “postpartum depression,” she’s attracted hundreds of female admirers, who stand petulantly outside the courthouse in pink T-shirts, demanding her acquittal.

When Muslims pull this crap, blaming their gang rapes on the trauma of being asylum seekers, we’re not as understanding. But when women claim mental anguish from giving birth, we’re supposed to treat it as if it’s a disease as real as cancer and blame the doctors for not dispensing a magic pill to cure the batty lady.

Whether Lindsay has postpartum psychosis, is bipolar or a witch, to quote another witch, “What difference, at this point, does it make?” She still twisted an exercise band around the neck of her 3-year-old, his little legs kicking, then strangled her 5-year-old daughter until she went limp, before proceeding to garrote her 8-month-old baby.

A woman’s work is never done!

The pink ladies seem to think that if enough of them say, That could have been me, everyone will shout in unison, LET THAT POOR WOMAN GO! as opposed to, No. Woman. President. Ever. Thus, the organizer of the pink ladies, Renee Kimball, said of Clancy, “Any one of us could be sitting in her chair.” Okay, fine. But then none of you should ever be sitting in a chair at the Resolute Desk.

I note that there were no men in pink T-shirts at the trial of John List, though he surely suffered from the depression that many men face after losing a job. This meek accountant was the sole breadwinner for his mother, wife and three children. Then he got fired and had to accept lower-paying work—a humiliation so great he hid it from his family. The prospect of financial and reputational ruin led him to take out three mortgages on their 19-room mansion, declare bankruptcy, steal from his mother’s bank account and, finally, massacre his entire family and disappear to start a new life.

When the law caught up to him 18 years later (thanks to “America’s Most Wanted”), no one sympathized with his mental illness. No New York Times op-eds explained that men can experience “hormonal shifts” after job loss, leading to “hallucinations, delusions and paranoia.” No claims of “postjobtum psychosis” or maudlin accounts of men who “seem to be coping when, in fact, they are drowning.”

When women kill family members, it’s the fault of their hormones, “postpartum depression,” the pharmaceutical industry or battered women syndrome. But when men kill family members, it’s because of their toxic masculinity or patriarchal sense of entitlement.

Until five minutes ago, citing women’s hormones as a reason they couldn’t be president was the most retrograde misogyny imaginable. Today, Lindsay’s legion of supporters think hormones should excuse a triple homicide. Trump should try invoking hormones to explain the Iran War.

Last week in New York City, another woman who knocked off her kids was found “not responsible” because she was in a state of psychosis when she stabbed her two sons with kitchen shears, then drowned them in a bathtub. She’d been prescribed psychotropics but didn’t take them. Instead, she smoked marijuana daily, which happens to triple the risk of developing psychosis, as hundreds of studies have shown.

On one hand, we legalize pot, and on the other, we say you’re not responsible if it turns you into a psycho killer. (Was that a decision made by a woman on the rag?)

These shape-shifting Girl Power types use self-diagnosed psychiatric illnesses to escape responsibility for their barbaric crimes, but then go around crowing about how much tougher they are than men. Men are the quitters. (The kind of quitters who pay off their wives’ student loans, then work themselves to an early grave.)

At least that’s according to Lindsay Crouse who, in a recent Times op-ed, pushed the idea that, “Boys are like orchids. They are fragile and protected.” But girls “are like dandelions—surprisingly tough.”

Other than her own gripes, Ms. Crouse’s only evidence for superior female grit came from the 2018 Boston Marathon, beset with rain, hail and freezing temperatures. “I noticed, and then confirmed,” she wrote, “that women endured at higher rates than men.”

These results took her by storm, so of course she wrote a Times op-ed about it, touting women’s exceptional ability to “persevere in exceptionally miserable circumstances.” (And that’s despite being “discouraged from being athletic and competitive.”)

In fact, the study showed that 95.4% of men who started the race finished it, compared to 96.4% of the women. Crouse is claiming that out of a field of 27,000 runners, she actually noticed that 695 men quit, whereas only 439 women did? And she wrote not one, but two boastful columns about women’s amazing resilience on the basis of what is basically a rounding error?

Besides self-esteem, one area where women outperform men is in killing their newborns. It’s the only murder category where they do. Go, Girl Team!

These self-admiring women, who never tire of telling the world that females are stronger than men, but also have it much harder, could be laughed at, except they now form the base of one of our major political parties. We won’t be able to get rid of them as easily as Lindsay Clancy got rid of her kids.

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