Since about the time that I snaked my way onto the playground in my Bambi sneakers and was told girls couldn’t play kickball, I have been mad. As a way of dealing with my rage for the patriarchy, my parole officer suggested that I channel my feelings into writing my weekly column. As a rule, these are the responses I receive:

“Your arguments are so one-sided.”

“You hate men.”

“Big deal. Somebody honked at you. Take it as a compliment.”

“Uh, hey. Hey. Married with Children is the best show on television. Write an article about it.”

Now, far be it from me to continuously belabor the cause of feminism. But, because I graduate in four weeks (if my lucky bag of cat hair works as planned), I wanted to write at least one more article addressing said issues. Why? Because I’m mad. Here’s why:

1. I’m mad because, due to the Irish Illini Bar Scramble, I went to Station for the first time in years. While that is infuriating enough as it is, the murals on the wall were the real cause of my rage. For those of you who are fortunate enough not to know what I am talking about, the murals are of a varied nature. And by varied, I mean sometimes it’s a blonde girl showing her boobs and sometimes it’s a brunette. The collages of Mardi Gras and Spring Break all show girls in various forms of nudity and hoochiness – while the men stand by, either holding them up or cheering them on. This bar is not just exclusively for males who get turned on by concrete boobs. It is a bar on our campus, and we shouldn’t be subjected to someone’s offensive idea of how women should be treated.

2. I’m also mad because of a new image on thefacebook.com. This image is constructed of numbers to form an image of a naked woman, which can be posted on the members’ walls. Now, this image is not just in bad taste, it also begs the question: where is the naked wiener that I can post on my wall? Sure, that might be a question I ask a lot. But until the day that men are subjected to such an oppressing gaze, women shouldn’t be either. At a recent meeting of the minds, licensed sexologist Brian Sweeney discussed the fact that such nude depictions of women are not – and I quote – “a big deal.” As he stated quite firmly, in between swigs of his wine mixer and drags of his Virginia Slims, women have beautiful bodies. As such, they should be complimented when they are plastered all over the campus. Wow, I should be so grateful that I get to look at chipped and peeling boobs at Station while I listen to “Santeria” for the 900th time.

3. Last but not least, I am angry about Mom’s Weekend. It has been said before, I know, but what is up with the flower show and craft fair? The last time I checked, my mom doesn’t like to make doilies and drink tea on the Quad. The fact that dads come down for football games and moms come down to flower shop is so ridiculously infuriating that my fingertips are burning up the keyboard. I move to suggest that all female alumni who don’t like just tea and flowers should discontinue donating money to the University until they take their head out of their rears and the 1920s. Just a thought.

These, in a nutshell, are a few of the things that have been stuck in my craw this past week. Even though these things may appear to be small and inconsequential, it is these small and inconsequential things that prevent feminism from making huge strides into the future.

That and reruns of Married with Children.