As upsetting as the "War on Women 2012" has been, I managed to keep my cool, I think, until last week or so. But at some point between the Masters Tournament at creepy Augusta National and the character assassination of Hilary Rosen (whose perfectly valid point was twisted wildly by everyone from the Romneys to the NYT's clueless Frank Bruni), things hit critical mass, and I truly began to question the wisdom of being born female.
IBM is one of the top sponsors of the Masters Tournament. Its CEO has historically been granted membership at Augusta National, which is denoted by a highly-coveted, silly green jacket that evokes shades of Rodney Dangerfield-meets-Richie Rich. Well, what to do when the CEO is a lady? Because that's what the current top dog at Big Blue, Virginia Rometty, happens to be. Apparently, if you're Augusta, you still deny her membership, so that she's forced to wear the crumpled pink jacket she brought balled-up in her roller luggage. (Just kidding; I'm sure her corporate jet has a very nice place to hang jackets!) Another day, another chick hits the Grass Ceiling.
I'm sure I'll get some emails saying, "They're a private club and they can do what they want!" While this may technically be true, it still doesn't mean they're not a bunch of retrograde douchesprockets.