well, Tom...I sure do feel pretty fucking "supported." for which, thank you. but I gotta say again that I don't think she was ever a Marxist of any sort. she was--and has always been--a Wolfist. I remember her first book, which struck me as idiotic. a foxy jewish girl (much like the ones I went to HS with) writes about how beauty is a social construct. and the joint goes wild. then she writes a bunch of other books (only two or three were ones I knew about, but I checked her Wikipedia page today), each one stupider and crazier (and, from a research point of view, insanely bad) than the one preceding. and each one is filled with more and more conspiracy theory bullshit. one of the books, about the treatment of gay people in 19th century England, misinterprets a phrase to mean its opposite, on which she bases the entire book. several of them get pulped by their publisher. in one of them, she talks about thinking with her vagina (which I doubt, as I respect vaginas a lot more than I could possibly respect HER). in another one, she compares her C-section to Jesus on the cross, sounding like a Jesus freak. for some reason, ever since I read the post you're quoting here, I've been absolutely unable to let go of this extraordinary rage, which those comments you also quote (very selectively, as there are THOUSANDS) have only served to stoke. I'd say that there was something sad about the decline of Ms. Wolf's thinking, but I was never impressed with it much to begin with. then why am I so furious? I should be able to let this go. but thanks soooo much for repeating and answering some of the "charges" she makes in that post, which (as you point out) consist of accusing most of us for saying things we never said. and I've been struggling with some of these same issues around Marxism as an elegant theory for framing a critique of the worst aspects of capitalism (especially the monopoly capitalism HERE) and the governments which it always seems to bring about. shitty fruits from a flawed tree. and yesterday ALREADY began as an unhappy one, March 18th being the day Rochelle passed, eight years ago. and it hasn't gotten significantly "better." on the positive side, my songwriting partner just sent me his latest draft of a song we wrote over thirty years ago (about, of all things, an AIDS hospice I once worked at) and it's PERFECT, with a new gorgeous melody. if I think about how good it is, my rage at Naomi Wolf goes away, more or less. so something in the universe seems to be going right.