Unintended humour from a male reviewer of Clementine Ford’s Fight Like a Girl:
An amazing book by an amazing woman who lives her life to shut down the misandric little toads who keep slapping themselves against her shore in the mistaken thought that their opinions matter.
The “misandric toads” are Ford’s twitter subscribers and those praising her all-women-are-victims crap.
Update: This Fight Like a Girl excerpt confirms that Ford is driven by what she regards as less than a win in the genetic lottery of looks:
Since the onset of puberty, I had felt keenly awkward in my skin, undeserving of the label ‘girl’ and insurmountably far from the identity of ‘woman’. I defined everything I was by everything I was not. I was tall, but I was not willowy. Pale, but not unblemished. I was strong, but I was not thin.
Biologically human, but not female.
Thus we have Ford, acting to self-validate as an attractive-to-males and empowered female, bragging about her two abortions. Really, it’s kind of sad.