So there I am – plugging away on my next column about how the GOP has all the true feminists in politics – when I receive an email about the events of next weekend’s Review Reunion. The itinerary includes: some dude talking about the media, some other dude talking about Afghanistan, and some other political commenter guy.
Oh, and a shooting trip and dinner at Palo Alto’s Sundance Steakhouse.
Really, boys, I thought we’d learned our lesson when Obama held that little pickup game earlier this year. Steaks and shooting? The only thing less subtle would be a No Girls Allowed sign posted at the entrance to the Republican Party tree house.
Now, don’t misunderstand me. It’s not the activities per se that offend me; I love a good steak, and I think shooting clay pigeons sounds like a hell of a lot of fun. It’s the self-conscious styling of it all: for some reason, the Review is desperate to reinforce this image of the burly caveman Republican.
Me shoot gun. Me eat steak. Me like Reagan.
If you’re determined to blow 60+ bucks on dinner in PA, I can name a handful of other restaurants with better food. In fact, Mr. Adam Ross – the host of the dinner and former EIC – now resides in Texas. Wouldn’t this homecoming be an excellent opportunity to enjoy the Californian cuisine offered by places like Lavanda and Zibibbo?
And like I said, shooting sounds like a good time to me – but the vast, vast majority of those with experience and interest in the sport are men. Why not pick a more gender-neutral activity, like sailing on the Bay, beer or wine tasting in the city, or a day at the beach in Santa Cruz? Even a Sharks or Warriors game would be preferable.
But no, we’re sticking to steaks and shooting. Grunt, grunt.
Let me be clear: I’m not asking for mani/pedis and cosmopolitans. After all, that’s what those ridiculous SCS Girls’ Nights are for. Ick.
I just want the Review to consider the message these choices send.