How men treat women — and when it matters

The way a man treats the women in his life is an important sign of his character, or lack thereof. It is not, however, a sign of whether he will make a good president.

Case in point: Bill Clinton. Hillary’s husband was an acknowledged hound dog, a person who targeted pretty much anything in a skirt — or blue dress — for extracurricular “fun.” And yet, despite what most conservatives will admit to, the man was a good president. He was, in fact, one of the two most effective presidents of the last 40 years, the other one being President Ronald Reagan. Just my opinion, but that’s generally the point of this column.

I used to get quite angry at the hypocrisy of liberal women who shielded Bill from criticism after he basically installed a stripper pole in the Oval Office because, after all, he was a “progressive” guy. But I have to admit that Bill’s rank immorality did not impact his ability to run the country. Domestically, he did a pretty good job, and with the tragic exception of Rwanda, his foreign policy was well thought out.

That’s why I yawned when the Access Hollywood tape featuring Donald Trump was released, even while the Democrats (and some Republicans) dropped their jaws in a collective act of shock and nausea. I never considered Trump to be an honorable man with impeccable manners when it came to women.

This is not to say that I condone bad behavior. And let’s be clear: we are not talking about rape or sexual assault, here. If a man rapes a woman, he is a felon. Lock him up forever, preferably with a few select members of MS-13 as cellmates.

But I am unwilling to pick my presidents based upon whether they say the right things about the women in their lives, the women they employ, the women they have dated. I am unwilling to make, as a threshold determination for their fitness for office, the tenor of his language, the “wokeness” of his manners, the purity of his intentions and whether he’s asked a female to get him coffee.

And that is why I was absolutely appalled at the way Elizabeth Warren, the Librarian-InChief, lectured Michael Bloomberg about his past history with women at the debate this week. Out of the gate, Warren started in on the former mayor of New York, accusing him of describing lesbians in equine terms and calling out his non-disclosure agreements, something that is more than common in corporate environments. Bloomberg, for his part, reacted like Charlie Brown being yelled at by Lucy, all 4-foot-3 of him cowering before She-Who-HasThree-Drops-Of-Native-American-Blood.

It doesn’t matter to me how a man speaks, or his manner and style. That only counts if I want to date him, marry him or summon him for an Uber ride. When I am choosing a presidential candidate, I care about his policies on issues like immigration, national security, health care, the judiciary, abortion, taxes, the environment, gun control, the First Amendment

and did I mention immigration?

I frankly don’t care about his past relationships with women unless, as I said before, they bordered on the criminal.

But Michael Bloomberg is not being accused of criminal acts. He is being accused by the Morality Maven from Massachusetts of being crass, arrogant, “Mad Men” sexist, overbearing and all of the things that, to be honest, were considered par for the course among the men I saw growing up. I’m not saying that it’s good. I am, though, saying that it is hardly surprising that a 78-year-old man, someone from my father’s generation, would exhibit some less than evolved attitudes when dealing with the “fairer sex.”

You might think that I am an ossified throwback to the Jurassic period when women knew their place, and it was three steps behind the men, coffee pot in hand.

And I don’t really care. Because my view of the world is not tainted by this PC patina, this desire to put a nice “veneer” on our interactions. Would I prefer that my president be an honorable, dignified, respectful man who genuinely considers women to be his equal in humanity? Yes, of course. But do I clutch at my cultured pearls when I see a man who has some chauvinistic skeletons in his closet but is otherwise well qualified to run the country? Hell no.

I don’t know who I am voting for in November, although I have a pretty good idea. But I am certain of one thing: Liz Warren and her #MeToo commandos are not going to intimidate me into voting for the Stepford President, version 2020.