please stop tickling me

In which we laugh and laugh and laugh. And love. And drink.

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Location: Portland, Oregon

Otium cum Dignitatae

Friday, December 08, 2006

I Am Wonderful

Hah! Oh, I would just love to hear someone along the lines of Jesse Jackson (since pretty much anytime I use the term 'someone', I really mean 'Jesse Jackson') lead a crowd in chanting the above title:
"Ah ahm..."
"A-gain. Ah..."
Ahh...Feeling the love over here. I once had this great dream in which a celebrity cheerleader (Roger Hodgson of Supertramp, for some reason) was leading a stadium full of people in the following 'chant':
Which of course resolved itself into something like:

Which brings me to my 'point'. Jaq, over at 'Confessions of A Female Misogynist', contributed this to the ongoing discussion of gender relations that is our lot here in this, the freest and best-endowed of all Vales of Tears.
If you're too lazy or luddite to use a damn hyperlink, the point was basically made over there that men routinely let women get away with awful bullshit simply out of some vague hope that one day, yes one day maybe, they'll be rewarded sexually by someone-perhaps not that exact someone-for so often doing so. I've seen it, god knows, and I pretty much agree. The comment thread is worth reading too, if for no other reason than to observe the habits of males doing a version of the same thing: I am calling you Smart now, in the hope that you will find me attractive. The comments of the women are of note too: I sort of agree, but I hate you.

"So why am I not outraged? I can see where you're coming from. I think we see the same things and feel the same way but with opposite results. We're both just contemplating the complexities of being women. You're not just complaining, you're analyzing and identifying with the bullshit you're decrying. But while feel fellowship and understanding from misogynistic men, I feel it from women.

I do, however, hate most of the guys who like your blog. Men don't do what you're doing, they just complain and don't try to understand. They're dumb bitches, too, we just call it something else: stupid assholes."

'While feel fellowship', I'm imagining, is the poster accusing the author of identifying with male misogynists, which I feel is inaccurate and fucking catty, actually. But I hate the guys who claim to like this blog too, for the abovementioned reasons, and the point I really want to address is the 'men don't do what you're doing' passage.

Or actually Jaq's challenge at the end of the posting:
"So here's my challenge to all the males reading this blog. The next time some dumb bitch tries to pull a I'm-so-hot-so-I-can-get-away-with-being-a-total-bitch move, call her out on it."

Accepted! And here's why I'm so wonderful, by the by. I always do. Perhaps to my never-ending chagrin and misfortune, but I sort of made it a mission of mine, long ago, to be the one dude in the crowd who doesn't give the pretty one who's used to getting everything handed to her the thing that she wants. I've probably been wrong a few times in my application of this principle, but I doubt it.
Maybe it's just because I like that look of deep confusion on their face when they see that the one thing they know how to do isn't working. If I've learned nothing at all from the ouvre of the late Gene Rodenberry and the heraldic poetry of Science Fiction in general, it's give a robot information it can't process, and it explodes.

For the time being though (before Story Time [TM]!), let me also add further sober gender critique to the whole damn thing by remembering out loud, and in a public place: de wimmens is like dis cuz dey lives in a wurruld contro' by us Mens. Dey do dis cuz dis all dey can dooz. Word. Now to Story Time:

When I was stuck 'doing the door' at the Crystal Bathroom, I heard a number of interesting interpretations on the subject of Why You Should Let Me, And My Fake ID, Into Your Establishment:
"I'm a good friend of the Sherriff!"
"And I'm sure he'd be proud that you're using a fake ID," I said.

"I got twenty bucks for you!"
"That's fantastic. Now do you also have the other four hundred-eighty bucks I'd personally be owing if I get busted, plus the thousand the bar itself would have to pay?"

"I'm a good friend of Chuck McMenamin!"
(While this particular chain of brewpubs is owned by two brothers by that last name, neither one is named 'Chuck'.)

And one time, this tall, willowy girl with long, brown hair (ripe fer pullin'!) walks up with a Washington State ID that looks like it's been done in crayon.
"Oh, this is just awful," I said. "Don't you know anyone with a color scanner?"
She smiled, nodded and acknowledged that she at least could've tried harder. "But you'll let me go, right?"
"No. I think you should go back to wherever you got this, and ask for your damn money back."
"Yeah, " she said, and gave me a little pat on my lower back. "But we're cool, right?"
The little pat put me over the top. "Oh stop it." I said. "It's not like you're going to fuck me."
She pulled back, still smiling, but understanding now that the game, however bush-league, was up. A few more pathetic back-pats later, she was leaving.

And this is hardly the only example, but perhaps the only one where I probably saved my job by doing so. It just felt like a sting at the behest of the Oregon Liquor Control Commission. And on this occasion, had it been released yet, I would have heard the eternal chords of that Christina Aguilera song "Beautiful" (such a big hit with the ladies in the crowd at the Sylvia Browne thing, a couple weeks ago I needn't add), but augmented for my personal, male needs:

And to return to the original point of the posting, the syllogism that set this pattern of bullshit behavior up in the first place is one in which both genders lose. De Mens don't get none, and eventually De Wimmens run up against either someone like me, or someone far, far worse, who call them on their shit in a far more brutal way.
Or hell, it's not just that the men fail to get laid by rewarding crap behavior: it's that the whole thing serves to promote the idea that all women are manipulative cunts who are only out for their own benefit.
And back to the whole 'men don't do this' thing, throat me, kind sister. I've spent far too much of my life asking my fine young self whether or not I'm behaving as a Good Man. If anything, I spent so much of my early life examining the shortcomings of my own gender that eventually I'd have to turn the microscope on those I'd chosen to spend my romantic life with. I didn't choose to become that bellicose asshole that I can't spend any time around either; I just woke up to the fairly elemental truth one day yet again that people, largely speaking, are assholes, and are to be dealt with on a case-by-case basis. Generalizations about race, orientation, religion and especially gender are inherently flawed, for this reason.
Man, I'm smart.



Blogger Who, Me? said...

"people, largely speaking, are assholes, and are to be dealt with on a case-by-case basis..."


Incidently, I'm growing rather tired of dealing with these irritating fools myself, and would more than likely prefer to hybernate for weeks and or months at a time not having any contact with them at all, unless I for some ungodly reason decided to make the choice to do so. I would, of course, have a few choice souls with which I would like to have some sort of verbal contact with. Haven't figured out the methods yet. It's a toss up between wanting to have some form of technology or rejecting it wholeheartedly.

But dammit, that addiction to youtube is a killer!

4:35 PM  
Blogger CatsDigMe said...

Hey rich - didnt realize you were back on the air until Jacq clued me in. Yeah I s'pose I coulda hit the link over at my own blog, but I've been busy getting that damn thing up and running. So, assholes huh? Nah, never met any of those. Everybody is sweet as huckleberry pie to the Hollander. Good to see you, Rich. Are you hitting the coast for X-mas at all?

6:44 PM  
Blogger rich bachelor said...

Hm. A Chuck and a Jaq figure prominently in this story. I don't know why I bring it up.

Um, since I work on the 26th, I'm not certain I'm even leaving town for the X to the Mas. However, I'm celebrating my birthday tomorrow (I turn 36 at Midnight)at the Rose and Raindrop (formerly known as Digger O'Dell's), if you feel like making a lightning run up here.

8:08 PM  
Blogger Who, Me? said...

Oh Rob. You're turning 36? Are you SURE?

8:30 AM  
Blogger CatsDigMe said...

Hey man, sorry I won't be able to hang with you for your birthday. I'll be in Seattle tonight checking out a game. Have a good one.

12:19 PM  
Blogger rich bachelor said...

Curiously Jacq: my own damn mother had to ask how old I was the other evening. Sigh. Dammit; I was born in 1970. Do the math.

2:57 PM  
Blogger Who, Me? said...

Our esteemed friend whom I call Chas and we all know as Catsdigme says that he does not believe that you are only 36 and he's very sorry he missed out on consuming large quantities of Vile brand whiskey with you.

9:35 PM  
Blogger rich bachelor said...

Oh Christ. He doesn't know the half of it.

1:17 PM  

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