E. Jean Carroll's unlikely fantasies

E. Jean Carroll, apparently trying to boost sales of her book, keeps repeating her story of Donald Trump raping her in the fitting room of a Bergdorf Goodman department store 30 years ago.  She even claims to have a male DNA–stained dress from the encounter.  Given what is known about the morals in E. Jean's circles, one suspects that the male DNA on her dress was of the kind Bill Clinton left on Monica's blue dress, where it was not alone.

E. Jean's story goes something like this: DJT had been secretly longing to "do" her for years because she was so irresistible.  When he spied her at Bergdorf's, his most primitive urges took over.  He couldn't contain himself and cut loose before she could make good her escape.  Something flew thru the air and landed on her skirt as she wriggled free like a butterfly escaping a cocoon. 

Some men collect women's panties.  If Carroll's story is true, it's the second modern instance of women collecting men's DNA — presidential DNA at that.  A disgusting thought, yes, but then, E. Jean Carroll's a disgusting woman with, shall we charitably say, unlikely fantasies.  Why would a man bother with her when he could (and would) catch a Melania Knauss?  The redoubtable Monica Showalter  rightly blanches at the thought of an uncleaned dress hanging in the closet with such evidence on it for 30 years.

Some have wondered where people like E. Jean come from.  It's a survival-of-the-fittest thing.  In centuries past, her kind died young from their invincible stupidity.  Those who did survive had to work long and hard just to stay alive.  Sadly, they thrive in today's easy world.  Unable to achieve anything of note in their own right, they gad about, looking for ways to seem important at someone else's expense.

Ayn Rand described the gambit 70-some years ago in The Fountainhead.  The idea is to throw so much crud at the target that some of it sticks.  Even if proven untrue, the charges stink up the air and stain a name.  A reputation is tarnished, a good name muddied.  But Miss Carroll gets her much craved attention — from the insulated world of the ultra-rich she inhabits.  I would wager that 98% of America had never heard of this woman until this book, and that a similar number still hasn't heard of her.

Many have observed that we didn't elect Trump to be our spiritual adviser.  He's won over millions of us against our will, and that's probably the hardest thing to do there is.  In any event, nobody serious believes E. Jean Carroll's story; it's just not credible from any angle.

Image: TIME via YouTube.

E. Jean Carroll, apparently trying to boost sales of her book, keeps repeating her story of Donald Trump raping her in the fitting room of a Bergdorf Goodman department store 30 years ago.  She even claims to have a male DNA–stained dress from the encounter.  Given what is known about the morals in E. Jean's circles, one suspects that the male DNA on her dress was of the kind Bill Clinton left on Monica's blue dress, where it was not alone.

E. Jean's story goes something like this: DJT had been secretly longing to "do" her for years because she was so irresistible.  When he spied her at Bergdorf's, his most primitive urges took over.  He couldn't contain himself and cut loose before she could make good her escape.  Something flew thru the air and landed on her skirt as she wriggled free like a butterfly escaping a cocoon. 

Some men collect women's panties.  If Carroll's story is true, it's the second modern instance of women collecting men's DNA — presidential DNA at that.  A disgusting thought, yes, but then, E. Jean Carroll's a disgusting woman with, shall we charitably say, unlikely fantasies.  Why would a man bother with her when he could (and would) catch a Melania Knauss?  The redoubtable Monica Showalter  rightly blanches at the thought of an uncleaned dress hanging in the closet with such evidence on it for 30 years.

Some have wondered where people like E. Jean come from.  It's a survival-of-the-fittest thing.  In centuries past, her kind died young from their invincible stupidity.  Those who did survive had to work long and hard just to stay alive.  Sadly, they thrive in today's easy world.  Unable to achieve anything of note in their own right, they gad about, looking for ways to seem important at someone else's expense.

Ayn Rand described the gambit 70-some years ago in The Fountainhead.  The idea is to throw so much crud at the target that some of it sticks.  Even if proven untrue, the charges stink up the air and stain a name.  A reputation is tarnished, a good name muddied.  But Miss Carroll gets her much craved attention — from the insulated world of the ultra-rich she inhabits.  I would wager that 98% of America had never heard of this woman until this book, and that a similar number still hasn't heard of her.

Many have observed that we didn't elect Trump to be our spiritual adviser.  He's won over millions of us against our will, and that's probably the hardest thing to do there is.  In any event, nobody serious believes E. Jean Carroll's story; it's just not credible from any angle.

Image: TIME via YouTube.