On the Corner of Snark St. and Science Boulevard

Madness ensues:

The G.O.P.'s Feminine Mystique 
Article here!

            Samantha Bee is a correspondent for The Daily Show, a liberal-leaning show on Comedy Central that dissects and mocks the mainstream media. However, in her article The G.O.P.’s Feminine Mystique, she shows no particular ire for the G.O.P. itself. Instead, she uses a clever blend of nonsensical asides, a disdainful tone, and a blend of snark with honest and clear criticisms to highlight the faults of a study performed by U.C.L.A grad students.

            The study, as she says, “determined that the women of the Grand Old Party have more feminine faces than those of their female Democratic colleagues” by way of random images first rated for their femininity, and then presented to college students who determined the political party of each face. Faces that were more typically feminine were rated to be more conservative.

            Bee’s reaction to this study is as hilarious as it is opinionated. She begins her entire article with two leading questions- “Did you know that science can teach you all sorts of amazing things about how the world works…” and “Did you know that it can also teach you things you never wanted to know and now not-so-secretly wish you didn’t?” Right off the bat, her opinion is made clear; that science can do incredible things, but that incredible can have two separate meanings. Following her explanation of the study, she mentions the name for the effect (“the ‘Michele Bachmann Effect’”) and proceeds to go on a long-winded tirade, ending in her living in “monkish isolation on a mountaintop,” about how she feels when hearing ridiculous things. This exaggeration, given in such close proximity to a conclusion from the study itself, heavily implies that the study itself is one of those selfsame ridiculous things. Her far more interesting aside, however, directly insults the scientific integrity of the study. She describes her own haphazard shoe counting at the Democratic National Convention as “the type of research done after three days of being yelled at…with only a steady diet of Coke Zero and SunChips to keep you upright.” By all rights, the U.C.L.A. study which “contains measurable scientific data collected by actual professional scientists” that she describes should have markedly different results than her own foray- but it doesn’t.

            With that critique of U.C.L.A.’s scientific integrity squarely tucked away, Bee takes on the tone of a much smarter, more worldly mentor despairing at the banality of the world at large, and the study in particular. In her second paragraph, as she explains the purpose and method, she not only expresses a disdain for the G.O.P. by spelling out “Grand Old Party,” but she chooses to add that the undergraduates who were selecting the faces were doing so “in exchange for course credit.” This casts a very greedy, banal mindset over the whole study, and implies that it wasn’t carried out half-heartedly for personal gain, rather than objectively. She also uses several well-known platitudes, saying first that “if the sensible shoe fits…” and mentioning that the scientists behind it have “basically given us the green light to go ahead and judge a book by its cover.” This is the essence of her complaint, but it also hints that the conclusions that could be reached by the data are childish and basic- much like the statement itself. Her superior tone only continues at the end of the paragraph, asking “…why would that stop anyone from conflating gender typicality with sex appeal?” and answering her own question with “The answer is ha ha, of course it wouldn’t, but I adore your innocence.” She is talking down, of course, but she does it in a way that doesn’t feel condescending to the reader in particular.

            Her most effective technique is the juxtaposition she offers between her comedic statements and her legitimate criticisms. One always follows another, and the contrast is often more effective than either would have been on their own. The whole piece takes on a structure of joke-criticism-joke-criticism. For example, she goes into a serious discussion of how the study suggests that a key factor in the “presence of a female politician on a national stage can be dependent on something as random as the placement of her eyebrows?” is immediately followed by the idea that the whole study is so “unforgivably retro” that “…once I finished reading the study I’m pretty sure 1970s Burt Reynolds reached across the passenger seat of his Trans Am to give me a wink and a boob honk.” She puts her worries about political objectification of a woman’s attractiveness in direct and honest comparison to an impossible comedic scenario- and in doing so, insinuates that the two aren’t as different as they initially appear. This structuring of her piece also manages to hide her working thesis for five paragraphs, but it does not diminish its effectiveness. The reader is forced to think through the entire opening scenarios she presents, and extrapolate her final argument. It keeps the editorial engaging, because the path she leads the reader on is clear enough to follow, but twisted enough so that her conclusions are at least a new thought in the series.

            In her article, Samatha Bee does what she is paid to do on The Daily Show- point out the flaws in something in a comedic way. It is her ability to sneak up on a reader with her point that makes her article unique.