This month's Elle (shut up, we like the horoscopes) contains a profile of Atlantic and New Yorker Authority on Women's Issues Caitlin Flanagan (known in some quarters as "Caitlin 'Marital Rape? What's That?' Flanagan") that needs to be read in its entirety to be believed. Flanagan, who got her job at The Atlantic the old-fashioned way (she was seated next to an editor of the magazine at a dinner party) has some, shall we say, retrograde notions about a woman's place (it's in the home, damn it!). Laurie Abraham, the piece's author, should really be credited: She does her best to make sure that Flanagan doesn't come off as the most repellent person in the world, but, gosh darn it, Caitlin keeps charging in to prove that she is. As we've said, you should read it all, but our favorite part comes about halfway through, where Flanagan expounds on the importance of having a hot cooked meal ready and waiting for your man when he returns home from work, and why it's critical to stay home with your children (and nannies, natch):
I mean, I have a really good friend who's an incredible television executive. Her husband's a really highly placed writer. They rock out their lives to the nth, nth degree. Their son's a good friend of ours. I love going to their house. They, you know, order in everything, Flanagan continues. Everybody feels very loved there. It's just different styles.
But that's not how you write, I protest. I mean, do you think your friend is as deeply connected to her son as you are to yours?
No, she says quietly.
Have you two talked about that?
That, Flanagan replies, would be a wounding thing.
At this point, were Mother Theresa still alive, she'd throw the magazine across the room and yell, "What a cunt."
Also, there's a really great profile of Shakira.