Jordan Peterson is not only none too bright (and thus, mad that he can’t win an argument with a woman, even one without the advanced degrees), he’s also none too strong (and so couldn’t win a fight with one, even if she’s a foot shorter and fifty pounds lighter). That’s what he’s really trying to tell us here, isn’t it? At least, that’s what I was able to fish out of his word soup. He’s mad at women because they routinely outsmart him, and madder still because they could also out-fight him, and maddest of all because some women in Toronto got his actual, Nazified number. Even though they’re smaller and supposedly weaker in every way. It just makes him look like a total putz, not a Top Lobster, and he’s helpless to stop it!
And of course, he needs Camille “Waaa The Feminist Establishment Never Takes Me Seriously Because I Make Up Random Shit To Sound Smarter Than I Am, Too” Paglia to buttress his oh-so-clever thesis that Women Who Refute Me Are All Crazy Bitches, So I Am Helpless Against Them. He knows his fifteen minutes are just about up, so he’s maximizing his inanity by using an equally inane woman to back him up in it.
And to top it all off, there he is, whining on camera about being misquoted. By being quoted verbatim. BY A CAMERA.
I would feel sorry for him, but I’m too busy laughing.
