But it wasn't cool enough for some feminists who found the shirt worn by
A meteor shower of hashtagged rage rained down on both sides of the Atlantic. "Shirtstorm!" "Shirtgate!" and similar bullshirt.
What should have been the best week of Taylor's professional life ended with him weeping on TV as he apologized for his alleged crime.
Many of my friends and colleagues on the anti-PC right have responded with understandable outrage. And it's true: Taylor's confession of wrongdoing did feel forced -- awfully North Korean.
Still, the feminists have a point. Although I like the shirt (which is now selling like hotcakes), I would never wear it to a nice restaurant, never mind on a globally broadcast TV interview. The reason I wouldn't wear it has very little to do with my fear of offending feminists. It's simply unsuitable professional attire. I'd ask critics of the feminist backlash, would you wear it on a job interview? How about to church or synagogue?
Where feminists seem remarkably self-absorbed is in their assumption that only their sensibilities matter. It is hardly as if feminist-friendly career women in STEM professions (science, technology, engineering and math) are the only people who might reasonably dislike the shirt. But here's astrophysicist
OK, maybe. But why are feminist motives so special? What if you're a devout Christian, Muslim or Jew working in the humanities? What if you like cartoonishly sexy ladies, but you hate guns? What if you're simply the kind of person who thinks male professionals should wear a jacket and tie on TV?
In short, feminists want a monopoly on when everyone must be outraged or offended. A few weeks ago, feminist idiots rolled out a video of little girls dressed as princesses, cursing like foul-mouthed comedian
We live in an age of diversity, defined not merely by gender and race, but by lifestyles and values. That's mostly a good thing -- mostly.
Like all other good things in life, diversity comes at a cost. And a big part of the tab is a lost consensus about what constitutes good manners and propriety. So instead of knowing how to behave, we spend vast amounts of our time worrying and arguing about it, with combatants on every side insisting it's "Live and let live" for me but "Shut up! How dare you!" for thee.
In this age of unprecedented cultural liberty, we've lost sight of the fact that common standards of decency and decorum can be liberating. They inconvenience everyone -- a little -- but they also free us from worrying about who we might offend or why. School uniforms, remember, constrain the wealthy kids for the benefit of the poor ones.
For millennia, good manners were understood as the means by which strangers showed each other respect. Now, too many people demand respect but have lost the ability, or desire, to show it in return.