In Which I Protect my Mother's Anonymity so she can Slander Other Feminists

I have decided to promote one of Trixie's comments out of the comments section, partly to reward her for her decision not to turn this excerpt into a piece for "Talk of the Town," partly just in case you didn't want to read all 13 comments. There are 13 of them because Trixie has not yet mastered the comments page, so she usually has to post twice: once to post, and once to say "the above/below was posted by Trixie."

This is my understanding of Maureen Dowd, about whom I think more ink has been spilt than about global warming, and sort of , enough already, but just this one more. You can only understand Maureen Dowd if you went to Catholic school. So this is Maureen Dowd. There is a ban on not wearing uniform hats and white gloves if you have any part of the uniform on. You and your friends knock themselves [sic] out confronting the nuns to get the ban lifted. There is no hope the ban will be lifted on hats, but the nuns agree that you no longer have to wear white gloves every day. You and your friends are on their [sic] way to get a celebatory coke and french fries where [sic] you see Maureen Dowd and her girlfriends, none of whom worked to have the dress code restructured, standing around with football players from your brother school lamenting the fact that their hands are cold and now Muareen Dowd is wearing gloves up to her elbow every day.