I had a post idea I was working on to respond to the big interblogular litcrit argument and food fight that occurred Memorial Day weekend, but even I got bored with it.
The gist:
1) Some people must find their own company exhausting. Poor bastards.
2) Only weasel-faced, poopy-pantsed boogers call people names.
3) Television: the opiate that treats the terrible after-effects of observing real live braying asses.
Now you know.
Then I was going to remind everybody that Michael Bérubé has returned from his blog-hiatus. (Yay!) He is threatening to blog about golf, though. (Boo!) But you already know all about that, I'm sure. And I didn't include that reference just because I have now figured out how to get the accent aigu onto blogger, how dare you?! (Don't you just love interrobangs?)
I'll bet you didn't know that, after reading Bérubé's latest post about thought,I now aspire to be referred to as an "epigone" of some yet-to-be-determined person. I find that word almost as much fun as antipode. Maybe I should aspire to be the antipodean epigone of some Indian-Ocean sailor/literary critic? What do you suppose the chances are that such a person would be a medievalist? Is it wrong to aspire to epigone status? More importantly, is it wrong to hope that my Indian-Ocean sailing medievalist literary critic is also either epicene or callipygian, or maybe even both/and? After all dichotomies are generally bootless undertakings. One shouldn't become involved in bootless undertakings at sea, where booty is all.
Oooh, maybe I should be a pirate medievalist! "Aaaarh! You'll reinstitute the dual pronoun or you'll walk the plank, matie!" or, even "Aaarh! We'll never be without thorns, edhs, or ascs again!" Yes, I do think Scarlett O'Hara went into medievalist piracy after Rhett left. So there.
How screwed up is it that certain young men currently refer to women's backsides and/or coitus using the same word that pirates once used to indicate goods stolen by violence or threat of violence?
Memo to certain young men: That's not OK. And, while I have your attention, there are some more things we should discuss, for your own good. 1) Referring to yourself as a procurer and/or swindler of women is not impressive to women, and those careers usually involve lengthy prison stays. 2) I do remember some women, in the mid-seventies, who were perfectly delighted to be spoken of as chicks. Thirty years have passed; they must be hens by now. Female humans under the age of 18 are girls, over the age of 18 they are women. It's good to know the terminology, ya know?
Which brings me to Hugo. I'm not going to pile on Hugo, even though I disagree with his final word with his student. He did his best to turn the student around, and the student wouldn't be turned. I don't know that I'd have made it seem like he had my stamp of approval, but that was Hugo's decision to make. I disagree with lots of Hugo's decisions, even though I respect his efforts, so this isn't exactly new. For instance, I disagree with the decision he made to keep a corpulent rodent as a pet. I am staunchly --and occasionally very loudly -- anti-houserodent in my own life, but I respect the rights of others to make their own policies on the matter. (Beast, just so you know, is no longer with me, and didn't mind occasional houserodents as long as they stayed away from his food when he was here.)[Update: Now I feel slightly guilty about writing this, because Hugo's pet passed away.]
Anyway, Hugo's student was struggling with pro-feminism, because of the old "even feminist chicks don't dig nice guys" canard. (Yaaaaawnstreeeetch!) OK, here's the thing about that -- for the 437 millionth time since.. what? Thursday? If one bases one's behavior regarding basic justice and decency on the likelihood that random, multiple women will fall down spread-eagle at the chance to copulate with one for exhibiting said basic decency, one is NOT a nice guy. One is attempting to manipulate women into consenting to sex. In some sections of the world one might, in fact, be considered a prat for thinking such things. When one alters one's behavior in hopes of inspiring women to fall prone at one's feet through exhibitions of poor conduct, one is a shit. Again, one is merely attempting to manipulate women into consenting to sex. Neither behavior is about respecting women as fellow humans, since both behaviors are attempts to use women as tools for one's own sexual gratification without concern for the individual women involved. (Hey! Women are individuals rather than a monolithic group that can and should be easily comprehended and manipulated by members of that other monolithic group. Who knew?)
Look, men and women find each other attractive all the time. We indulge ourselves in lascivious fantasies all the time. That's swell. Nowhere on my Feminist Credentials Card does it say "refrain from impure thoughts and deeds." Whoever is in charge of the Male Feminist Credentials Card should refrain from using such proscriptions as well. It would ruin all the mixers. Yet, "I'll be pro-feminist after I get laid" is a completely asinine thought, dependent upon false assumptions and very bad logic. And, damn it, I am not pro-choice on bad logic!
Geez, I hate it when I start out all random and then ruin it all by having a thought.
So, back to randomness. Speaking of Godless feminism, I celebrated my inherent unauthorized therefore evil female self-respect on the sixth by having a hot fudge sundae FOR DINNER! No vegetables, no clean plate to prove myself worthy of dessert. I just broke all the rules, willy-nilly. Take that, neighbors who went to church all evening though you haven't been since I've lived here because Jesus was coming and it was time to look busy!
What are your random thoughts?
3 comments:
I *heart* you, Heo Cwaeth. And I've missed you lately.
By the way, your pirate/booty rant sounds like something the Pastry Pirate would also write (as well the bit about cool words like epigone). I'm starting to think you and she were separated at birth.
Great stuff! A language lesson, a mild rant, and a sundae for dinner!
(I'd go with a chocolate malt, but hey, that's me, and I'm open to your having a different choice.)
Dr. V., I followed that link you put up to her blog. She's quite funny. Thanks for the compliment! However, it should be known that I absolutely suck as a cook. Truly. I once carefully folded unwhipped heavy cream into a strawberry concoction, and got all pissy because it didn't mousse-ify in the fridge, as promised.
Bardiac, thanks. I tried to put up something for everyone. Even those on the wrong .. er.. other side of the sundae/malt divide.
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