Every few months, whether I need it or not, I go up the hill, past all the #WeBelieve yard-signs and the #HateHasNoHomeHere yard-signs, to Rudy’s Barbershop to get my hair cut by the pierced and tattooed working-class white women up there.

And I wonder, for a few minutes, about the difference between the lives of the single mothers at Rudy’s versus the lives of the liberal women in the million-dollar houses on the hill.

So when I review the 15 minutes of fame accorded to Christine Blasey Ford, I am thinking about privilege.

I am not thinking about male privilege or white privilege or patriarchy, or any other lefty lies.

I am thinking that the only true privilege down the ages is the privilege of ruling-class women. In fact, the first thing that every Daddy should teach every mother’s son is that you don’t mess with ruling-class women. Not nohow.

Lefty John Berger makes this point in his Ways of Seeing with a sneer. Says he:

A woman’s presence [in a painting]… defines what can and cannot be done to her.

Let us extend this important piece of knowledge. It is ruling-class women that get to define what can and cannot be done to them; the rest have to lump it.

Now the law of unintended consequences applies to the sexual revolution as much as anything else. The unintended sexual humiliation of ruling-class women -- the kind that have “beach friends” -- is not to be endured. That is why we have Bubbie Dianne making it perfectly clear that while it is okay for ruling-class men to mess around, they’d better not do it with ruling-class women. And as for non ruling-class men…

I think that after the week of Christine Blasey Ford the ruling-class has made this perfectly clear. Thankee Lady Dianne, your worshipfulness.

But what about the hapless women outside the charmed circle? Whatabout them? In Jane Austen the nameless servant girls only appear when it is time to open the front door to Mr. Darcy. In Dickens the lower-class women are fantastical gargoyles. And when Mrs. Miniver, the book, not the movie, comes home in the afternoon, the fire is burning, the tea things are laid, the cultured Mrs. Miniver, wife of a successful architect, “with a little sigh of contentment, [rings] for tea.” The servants don’t even get a walk-on in her world!

Luigi Barzini, young Italian immigrant on the make in O America: When You and I Were Young, tells us what sex was like in the 1920s before the sexual revolution. Italian girls, guarded since time immemorial by fathers and uncles and brothers, were defenseless once you had got past the guards: “she resigned herself limply with a sigh to her fate.” But 1920s American girls knew the game, and knew exactly how much slack to allow an eager young Italian immigrant. When Luigi finally did get it on in 1929 with his incomparable Ann, daughter of a retired naval officer, Ann’s response to his furtive unbuttoning was a firm “Luigi, that’s not for us.” Then she took off her clothes and made love to him.

What has happened since the days when girls were girls, and men were men?

I don’t know, but I will tell you what is happening right now. The Good Little Girls of the ruling class, aka feminists, have woken up and realized that, no matter the sexual revolution, no matter abortion on demand, no matter what the plebs get up to, a ruling-class woman “defines what can and cannot be done to her,” darling. Period.

And if a ruling-class woman ever forgets that, in a foolish youthful moment, it is a humiliation that torments her for the rest of her days. I dare say that if you look into Jung’s archetypes you will find one that fits the bill here. Deep in the subconscious of the well-born woman is the knowledge that no man, no man, may define what can be done to her.

I say to hell with these ruling-class women. Whatabout the rest? What about the single mothers at Rudy’s Barbershop?

Remember Charles Murray and Coming Apart? Murray said that the top 25 percent of whites were doing fine with careers and marriages. The middle 40 percent were doing so-so, but the bottom 35 percent did not work much and did not marry much.

So I say again. What about the ordinary folks without their “beach friends,” the ordinary women struggling to live in the aftermath of the left’s cultural hurricane on sex, marriage, and work? When is our politics going to pay attention to them?

I’d say that one of these days some politician is going to connect with all the “below the salt” women. And when he or she does, Trump will seem like a walk in the park.

Christopher Chantrill @chrischantrill runs the go-to site on US government finances, usgovernmentspending.com. Also get his American Manifesto and his Road to the Middle Class.