'The angry ladies of Jezebel'

Article here. Excerpt:

'I don’t want to write a standard review of The Book of Jezebel: An Illustrated Encyclopedia of Lady Things. It’s the new book by the editors of the feminist website Jezebel, and simply saying that it’s a very angry book — as well as being very funny in parts — isn’t enough. Because when you say feminists are angry, they respond that you are a “Frat Bro” or a right-winger, and the conversation stops. And a deeper analysis of feminist apoplexy is important because the rage of the Jezebels is indicative of a serious cultural problem that is potentially fatal for the United States, which has become a very, very angry country.
...
I bring up Bly because when reading The Book of Jezebel you are confronted not just with humor and a high level of intelligence, but deep, deep rage. Not anger — rage. It goes much deeper than politics, although in modern America politics is where this rage find its expression. Thus the malevolence towards “dead white males” and the liberal obsession with feelings and personal grievance. The bogus “war on women” is really nothing but liberal women acting out against bad fathers. The frightening thing about this rage is that it is insatiable even as it demands resolution through politics. Before the 1960s and the disintegration of the family, a political revolutionary would map out his plan for correcting the flaws he saw in the political system. Today’s radicals speak in tones that are more personal. Their opponents are not just wrong, or obstacles to get past to attain better living conditions — they are evil, they are guilty, and they are personally culpable for screwing our lives up. Politics can’t cure this wound.
...
The writers at Jezebel are angry women. Their pain is beyond the reach of politics to solve. To be fair, there are many funny entries in The Book of Jezebel, like the one for Hipster: “Identifier claimed by no one but freely subjected on any person more Navajo-printed, leather-jacketed, asymmetrically-hairstyled, unshowered, ironically racist, Pitchfork-reading, warehouse-dwelling, amateur-mandolin-playing, or neon than you.” But the jokes can’t mask the rage. This is why that even as America has progressed and the treatment of women has vastly improved, the anger of the feminists has grown more acute. Nothing short of a matriarchal utopia will suffice. It’s easier than admitting what really ails you.'