The Gutfeld Monologues

by Greg Gutfeld

  According to campus reform, ASU gender studies professor Breanne Fahs is giving extra credit to female students who stop shaving their underarms and legs and then journal on it.

  This is so sexist. If this applied to men, I would have gotten a 5.0!

  On today’s campus, this replaces learning. If you wish to be clean-shaven, however, you don’t get credit.

  Is that discrimination? Sure, but it’s not like anyone cares, which is my point.

  Who exactly are you rebelling against, when you advocate armpit rights to a class of feminists? What risk are you taking? A real teacher might give extra credit for stuff that challenges their worldview. Have them volunteer at the border.

  Not sure what this means, but I’m anti–armpit hair. For BOTH genders. I hate my armpit hair. I just don’t see the point of it. It’s really the overgrown weeds on the front yard that is your upper body. I try to trim mine regularly, and I keep the hair for a large body pillow I’m making, which I hope to sell on eBay. The bidding starts at $27.50.

  Campus outrage is big over little things, and tiny over the big things. Victim of female genital mutilation Ayaan Hirsi Ali got booted from speaking at Brandeis—and not a peep. Nigerian girls are kidnapped, same thing.

  Oppression galore? They just snore.

  Instead, the modern professor traffics in safe, lefty dreck to elevate status in places where their beliefs go unquestioned. “I am woman, hear me roar” is now “I am woman. Read my thesis on the patriarchal assault on my armpits.”

  Meanwhile, millions of women are dying to come here, fleeing from real, actual oppression. But I guess it’s no fun bashing a culture, if it isn’t Western.

  Weak ending. But the message is clear: Campus feminists would rather tackle stupid, made-up concerns like hairless armpit privilege than actually speak out against the actual oppression against women worldwide. It boils down to one belief: If you can’t blame it on us, then blame doesn’t exist.

  Right now—it’s February 2018 as I write this—there is this phony kerfuffle over the idea that Doritos was planning a new kind of chip snack, based on market research, that would appeal to women. It would make less noise when crunched. Twitterverse erupted. Feminists were offended that a company would try to target women’s desires in the highly competitive snack-food marketplace. Now, while this is happening, Iranian women are being imprisoned for protesting against the forced wearing of hijabs. What a contrast: As real women are fighting for real rights and risking their lives, our self-involved feminists are losing their shit over chips. Can we please do a trade? We’ll take twenty of your Iranian protesters, if you just take one of our chip-hating heroines!

  August 7, 2014

  Dartmouth student Taylor Woolrich says she may leave school because she can’t carry a gun on campus, despite having a crazed stalker. When Woolrich was sixteen, an obsessed middle-aged creep (not me) would follow her home from work. She filed a restraining order but he kept at it, promising to visit her at school and showing up at her front door. He’s in jail. Found in his car, with a noose, knife, and gloves.

  To be fair, maybe he was on a scavenger hunt.

  Woolrich still lives in fear, which I get. But if I were her, I would still pack heat.

  Now, I get the concern about arming coeds. I went to college once . . . I think.

  But there are kids that same age who carry. It’s called the military. They can handle it. Stalkers are called stalkers because they don’t quit, which means their target has just one recourse: boom. But this antigun push is more about the sexist notion that girls shouldn’t have guns. Guns are deadly objects, but so are cars. Perhaps only men should drive.

  The fact is, guns do more for female empowerment than modern feminism, which prefers government as their protector, but legal ownership gives you real power, equalizing the battle between you and evil. The confidence from learning to shoot a pistol is far superior to any gender studies course, and a stalker is less likely to stalk if you can ventilate his groin, which is why a whirring bullet is the ideal rape whistle—and the real feminist icon should be Annie Oakley, not Sandra Fluke.

  Hmm . . . I felt like I said this before! (Probably in this same chapter.) That’s the great thing about TV—you can repeat yourself, because chances are they missed you the first time. Now, I know many, many women who own and fire guns. Only among coastal liberals is such behavior considered exotic or detrimental [unless it’s their female bodyguard, which is now considered supercool]. Think about it: Leftists think pussy hats are edgy. I beg to differ: Try firing a Bersa Thunder 380.

  March 13, 2015

  Doing nice things for people is evil. More specifically, doing nice things for women, if you’re a man, is evil. That’s the conclusion from Judith Hall, a professor in being miserable, who claims men who hold doors open for women or smile at them practice a vile behavior called benevolent sexism.

  To quote Princess Poo Pants, “Benevolent sexism is like a wolf in sheep’s clothing that perpetuates support for gender inequality among women.”

  What a mindless mix of buzz words and clichés.

  The implication is that if a woman appreciates such behavior, she’s too dumb to see the harm, unlike Judy, who calls it “insidious.” Yes, insidious. The most overused word in today’s world. It’s a way of saying something is bad, even if you can’t see its badness. Its very invisibility makes it insidious.

  Judy’s work isn’t insidious. It’s old. It’s boring. It’s wrong. For it brands a central engine of civil society—good manners—as oppressive. This at a time when we really could use more niceness in society.

  Take a look at what went on at McDonald’s the other day in Brooklyn. A group of girls beat the crap out of another girl while men happily look on.

  So maybe it’s me, but vicious, violent girls freak me out more than a smiling male.

  My point: We should be applauding an inclination for civil behavior, even if it strikes you as a symptom of benevolent sexism. At least no one is losing an eye. A brawl in Brooklyn among a group of teenage girls suggests to me that doing something nice for the opposite sex is the least of our problems. And fear now prevents us from passing judgment on the most objectionable behavior. Also, It’s weird how we’ve become so judgmental online—condemning any and all opinion—but express no moral outrage when it happens in real life, in front of our faces!

  But in a world that conjures up benevolent sexism, that brutality might be a victory. Because when girls start acting like boys, and boys stand by and cheer, they call that progress.

  This monologue illustrates how feminists lie to themselves. If you asked this professor who she would rather share a subway ride home with around midnight—a polite male who held a door open for her or a pile of unruly violent girls—she’d pick the girls. Just to, you know, remain politically correct. Even if, later, it results in her belongings being split among the gang.

  April 9, 2015

  In a political piece on Hillary Clinton published this week, a concerned writer states that, quote, “Some Americans, mostly women, don’t think the former secretary of state, U.S. senator from New York, and First Lady should be called by just her first name.” Because some worry that it might reinforce gender stereotypes.

  Yes. Some worry. That “some” was me and only me last week on O’Reilly. Roll it, Sven.

  ME ON O’REILLY: If you call her Hillary, that’s sexist, because that’s a girl’s name. They should no longer refer to her by her first name. Maybe a gender-independent thing like maybe Professor Pantsuit, something that has no gender whatsoever.

  As a loudmouth pointing out flaws in leftist logic, my tactic has always been to extend liberal beliefs to the absurd until the argument can only tip in my favor.

  Those comments were about Hill’s supporters, who label any criticism of her as sexist. If you call her secretive, that’s sexist. If you call her entitled, that’s sexist. I took it a step further.

  And apparently, this D.C. reporter listened a
nd found one person to agree with me, a twenty-three-year-old named Monica. She says, “I think it’s pretty unjust. I think it shows the level of inequality, inequality that still exists in the workforce. And just in general in society.”

  Now, I agree, calling her Hillary is degrading and demeaning, and hasn’t she had enough of that? (She’s married to Bill Clinton.)

  So, what’s the solution? What do we call her? How about her maiden name, Ms. Rodham? That’s great. But wait, Rodham . . . rod, ham; it’s both sexist and anti-Muslim.

  A joke so bad, it’s, well, bad. Anyway, here’s the secret to my shtick, from above: “My tactic has always been to extend liberal beliefs to the absurd until the argument can only tip in my favor.” Basically, that’s what I’ve been doing for twenty years. Why give something up, if it keeps working? It is working, right? Hello? Feel free to talk into the book and say, “Yes, Greg, it is.”

  November 1, 2016

  They are shouting “female” to hide the email. In a desperate defense of Hillary, some claim the email probe is an attack on women. Berkeley professor Robin Lakoff claims it’s not about emails at all. It’s about men not believing women should be engaging in high-level communication. Sorry, Robin, your tragic plea is about as “high-level” as a worm’s burp. Meanwhile, President Obama—remember him? He is already forecasting more sexism, even if Hillary wins.

  UNIDENTIFIED FEMALE: What do you think will be the female equivalent of “You weren’t born in this country”?

  OBAMA, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES: I think the equivalent will be she’s tired, she’s moody, she’s being emotional. When men are ambitious, it’s just taken for granted. Well, of course, they should be ambitious. When women are ambitious, why? That theme I think will continue throughout her presidency and it’s contributed to this notion that somehow she is hiding something.

  Oddly, the dual criticisms of being “emotional” and “hiding something” are exactly what the Democrats and the media use on Trump!

  Dude, Mr. President, she is hiding something. Apparently, Team Hillary knew Anthony Weiner was sexting a high-schooler way back in 2011. That’s pretty big. And they did nothing. I mean, Hillary is just one step removed from Weiner. She should have told Huma, “It’s either him or me,” but she didn’t. They covered for the twerp, which is why Weiner was able to continue, and go even younger, allegedly sexting a fifteen-year-old. The lesson here is that Hillary only looks out for one woman, herself. And isn’t that a real example of sexism—that a teenage girl getting sexts from a creep is ignored because the creep has connections? Call it “birds of a feather.” Hillary protected Bill by shaming his victims. Here, she and Huma ignored another female victim, both scenarios driven by self-preservation and power. It just goes to show you when Hillary is concerned, it’s the women, never the men, who get screwed.

  What a prelude to 2017. Imagine if Hillary had walked the walk and divorced Bill. Imagine if she had vocally encouraged Huma Abedin to do the same. How far ahead of the game would she have been? What if she had come out against Harvey Weinstein, rather than conveniently playing dumb about his repulsive behavior? Then she would have tapped into the #MeToo movement before it even began.

  Perhaps that’s the real reason Hillary lost: Her biggest claim to fame was also her biggest lie. She maintained that she was only about “the women.” But in fact, she just didn’t give a crap about them. She only cared about one woman, and it’s the one she sees in the mirror every day.

  And it’s pretty amazing that the real person who beat Hillary was Anthony Weiner. It was his laptop that forced Comey’s hand to make new, ugly truths public just days prior to the election. That’s the book Comey should have written—Screwed by Weiner: The Tale of 2016.

  Where Are We Now?

  As I finish this chapter, we’re currently in the middle of the #MeToo movement. Actually, I’m not sure we’re in the middle of it. From what I remember after reading a math book, there is no such thing as a midpoint to infinity. (BTW: If I were in a prog-rock band, I would call my first album Midpoint to Infinity.)

  Fact is, if something never ends, the midpoint itself becomes infinite. (No, I’m not high while writing this, although it would help to be high if you are reading this.) And I don’t think the #MeToo movement will ever end.

  The problem is that the court currently doing a lot of the judging isn’t one of law, but one of public opinion. We are now becoming what I predicted—an “allegation nation.” If you’re accused on Twitter, or anywhere, for that matter, you have little recourse but to withdraw into the shadows and hope that the truth comes out (and the truth could be that you’re guilty of being a pig, or a callous jerk, or something less).

  What’s encouraging, just days ago (May 29, 2018), we all saw Harvey Weinstein do the perv walk, in cuffs outside an NYC courthouse. There is something highly gratifying about a pig getting justice, even if it took decades to get there. And so: justice doesn’t just bring punishment, it also brings clarity and structure to a world where there previously was none. That world was Hollywood, a place that looked the other way, until finally everyone was looking at them.

  EPILOGUE

  THIS IS THE END, MY FRIENDS

  So, that was my first real anthology. How’d did it go? Did you stick it out all the way through? (That sounds gross.) Was it tiresome, repetitive, annoying? Because, after all, I am tiresome, repetitive, and annoying.

  It’s one thing I learned from editing this book—which is a collection of things I said on TV, every day. I learned that I am repetitive. I repeat things. Also, I tend to say the same things again and again, but formulated in different ways.

  It makes sense to do so . . . on television. Fact is, most people don’t watch the same show every day (well, many do, actually, and I love them for it). So when I repeat myself on Thursday—saying something that I said on that previous Monday—it still might be new for a million people who didn’t watch the Monday show. So, on TV, that makes sense. But in a book—you can see the repeats. Maybe that’s good. At least you know what matters to me (obviously, terror is a big thing, as are tribalism and unicorns), measured by the number of times I repeat myself on those topics. Sorry about that. But I am grateful that you bought this book, and you took the time to leaf through it and put up with my barely cogent meanderings. It means the world to me that you care what I think; it resonates with you. And I hope that whatever I put on the page is something you’d like to say, but lacked the page to put it on.

  Thanks for reading—and see you later. If you can’t find me, just look for the short guy in a sweater yelling in your living room.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Like my robes, I’ll keep it short.

  As always, first, I want to thank myself. Without me, this book would not be possible.

  Next: I want to thank the dead, for inspiration. Many of these monos were written with the help of two inspirations—my mom, and my buddy Andrew Breitbart. Both died in the last six years. I still miss them terribly. But they’re on every page, or maybe every other page.

  I’d like to thank Sean O’Rourke, who helped me gather and order these monologues, making it easier to sift through. Sean, I still owe you money.

  I also want to thank all the awesome folks at Fox News for giving me the platform and the opportunity to express myself in eighty-second bursts on The Five. I realize that I am an odd egg, someone who doesn’t seem to look or act like anyone else roaming the halls.

  Thanks to my editor, Natasha Simons, an original Red Eye fan, which helps greatly. If you’re not a fan of Red Eye, then you don’t know me!

  Also thanks to Jay Mandel, a great agent with tremendous insight.

  I must thank my delightful staff on The Five. All good people who must tirelessly put up with a “diva” like me. Yes, they think I’m a diva. But that’s okay. I’ll take it. As for The Greg Gutfeld Show, same thing—thanks to Tyrus, Gabby, Gene, Luigi, Joannie, Nora, Kat, Todd, Holly, and Tom. Thanks for putting together that un
ique hour of TV, on TV.

  Also, I would be a total dick if I didn’t thank the cast of The Five—Kimberly Guilfoyle, Juan Williams, Jesse Watters, and Dana Perino.

  Thanks to buddy Paul Mauro for his comments on the scripts. Finally, thanks to my manager and pal, Aric Webb, for listening to my rants about artificial intelligence, robots, and lucid dreaming. Thanks for putting up with me at my most obnoxious moments.

  And last but not least—my wife, Elena! As usual, she puts up with my obnoxious habits, but as a troubled genius, I only expect as much.

  About the Author

  GREG GUTFELD is a New York Times bestselling author, satirist, humorist, magazine editor, and blogger. He is the host of The Greg Gutfeld Show and cohost of The Five on Fox News. Prior to joining Fox, Gutfeld was editor of Men’s Health magazine. He later became editor of Stuff, helmed Maxim magazine in the United Kingdom, and was a contributor to HuffPost. Gutfeld lives in New York City with his wife.

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