That’s what strikes me about Lena Dunham’s story. Admittedly, I don’t know anything about her parents other than her Dad’s profession and the fact that, by Dunham’s admission, the spectrum of her behavior regularly included the sorts of things she now probably wishes she never told us about. Therefore, it’s fair to assume that basic guidelines were never set, both because of her actions as a child and a teenager, and because of her inability to recognize the unseemly nature of those actions today.

Kids need parents.

Kids need parents all the time, in every way, every day, for the entire duration of their childhood. Guiding, disciplining, loving, helping, instructing, teaching, example-setting parents. This is what makes parenting hard. I mean, this is what makes attentive, involved parenting hard. The neglectful lazy variety remains the easiest option, but there are consequences if you take that route.

Horrible consequences. Unspeakable.

They could end up in jail, or on drugs, or even worse, they could be Lena Dunham.

That’s my takeaway from the recent Dunham saga — a saga which I initially resolved not to write about, partly because I find her tedious and wholly unworthy of national attention, and partly because everything that needs to be said has been said and then said a thousand more times. But here we are anyway, because this is the internet and everyone has to have an opinion about everything, which is especially true in my case.

If you’re already lost, let me offer a quick recap: Lena Dunham is a twenty-something feminist celebrity who stars in an ambling, pointless HBO sex comedy called Girls. In order to preserve my journalistic integrity (although I’m not a journalist) I did attempt to verify that characterization by watching one episode. I made it about 15 minutes and found myself fighting the unmistakable urge to stick my head in a food processor.

The show apparently follows several obnoxious, spoiled, mid-upper class, liberal, elitist, self-absorbed brats as they traipse about New York City having sex and saying a bunch of obnoxious, spoiled, mid-upper class, liberal, elitist, self-absorbed things. I’m not sure how well this show does in the ratings but I was left feeling deeply concerned for the mental health of anyone who voluntarily watches the program on a regular basis. Have they all chopped their faces off with kitchen appliances by now, or am I the only one who felt moved in that direction?

In any case, that’s why she’s famous, I think. She’s also outspoken about ‘reproductive rights’ and other euphemistic progressive causes. Dunham even shot an Obama campaign ad a few years ago where she compared voting for Obama to losing your virginity. A rather unfortunate strategy, in hindsight. Actually, it was probably unfortunate in foresight too, and likely the first instance of a sitting president trying to get votes by promising to sexually satisfy his female voters. Bill Clinton did a version of that, I suppose, but I don’t think he ever put it in a commercial.

Despite being young and noticeably lacking in experience and useful insight, she decided to publish her memoirs last month. The book, Not That Kind Of Girl, sat unread in Barnes and Nobles across the country, until a few conservative sleuths finally picked it up and committed the slanderous act of reading it and quoting some passages. The hubbub went into Full Hubbub Mode after the people who hadn’t read the book (approximately everyone) caught wind of several choice excerpts.

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