Advice for the Ages

With regards to the previous post...

A Question for the Ages

What do we think, ladies: do bartenders -- consciously or otherwise -- give stronger drinks to attractive women to liven up a place? I'm not suggesting it's a widespread conspiracy, but it seems strangely reasonable to endrunken part of the clientele to attract customers, and create the impression that the place is really fun, thereby encouraging more drink-buying.

Mr. Lady PerriWhig stated that this is a well-known strategy, although he did not go so far as to attribute it as the cause of my recent...experience. I will say, however, those were some strong G&T's.

It goes without saying, I think, that if this is true, it borders on evil. I suppose it serves women/me right, though: nice girls don't go to bars and get shit-faced.

Honk If You Love Abortion!

Seen, while walking down a busy, pedestrian-heavy city street: A shoddy red pick up truck with the sidewalls of the truck bed replaced by cheap wood panels which read "Had an Abortion? Jesus will forgive you!"

Great! Abortions for everyone! Get in line, ladies! As we all know, feminists have an abortion quota which must be reached before the onset of menopause, otherwise you get kicked outta da club.

Oh, hold up--does this mean Jesus will only forgive abortions done in the back of that truck? Will the (male) driver cover the cost since many insurance companies won't? Will he get a life and stop wasting his time harassing people who'd like to have a say over what happens to their body?

My kingdom for a world free from invasive religious propaganda with designs on controlling the female body...

I Now Pronounce you Wife and Babies

I'm not Catholic, but many of my family members and friends are, so I've been to quite a few Catholic ceremonies. Most recently, I attended the wedding of a friend, an amazing, generous woman who is kind, but with just a dab of wickedness to make her real, and really hilarious. If you had attended her wedding, however, you would've discovered nothing about her (or her partner), because the Priest was far too obsessed with pushing the baby agenda to acknowledge her beyond her ability to be a vessel for Jesus, much like the much beloved 'Virgin' Mary. Another of my friends who was married in the Catholic church informed me that there isn't a set of vows you can choose from which omit the necessity of producing children to raise in the Catholic faith. As I listened to the Priest inform my friend that the next time she'd be in the church, it'd be to baptize her children, all 12 of them (problem: my friend is 31, and unless there is some IVF intervention, which the church condemns, she's probably not going to make it up to 12 babies) I just felt that continuing disappointment in the Catholic Church's willful disregard for the rights, health and sovereignty of women, and really humans in general.

I am not someone who is interested in being part of organized religion, but why is it that couples who choose to remain childless can't be considered "good" Catholics? Having children is something to be taken very seriously, and why bring babies into this world if you know you won't have the emotional, physical or monetary capabilities to provide for them? It should be as okay to not want kids as it is to want kids. Related, if a couple is unable to have children, how hypocritical is it of the church to condemn people who would go to scientific means to procure this 'blessing'? It's interesting (and shitty) how the church picks and chooses which medical interventions are acceptable (blood transfusions, yes, birth control, no. Gametes are super sacred cells, Erythrocytes, not so sacred).

At the wedding reception, the people at my table joked about how the Priest was seriously pushing the 'have kids' agenda, and probably one of the highlights was when my sister yelled 'MAKE BABIES FOR JESUS' to another couple friend of ours as we departed. However, despite the inherent joy at mocking ridiculously antiquated notions, it is disheartening that such notions are still being touted as the only way to 'salvation', whatever that means. If the only way a church can gain membership is through an forced breeding program, then perhaps it's time for said church to reevaluate its tenants and goals.

Womance All-Call!! Step right up for a bit of UltraViolence

So, while I sit here and slowly write my response to Lady Pistil's most excellent questions about my last post and try and sort through my emotional response to visiting LA this past weekend, I thought that I would ask a question that has been bugging me for quite a while.


Specifically, when is violence the answer?


I mean, we've all been told a thousand times to turn the other cheek, take a deep breath and be the bigger person, but I want to know about the moment that all that falls away and all that is left is the requirement for action... messy, violent, icky action... with chainsaws...*

So yeah, where do you draw the line? And I'm not just talking the big stuff here, I want to know it all. We all have those moments, those little spaces in time, in which the world whites out and we come-to with bruises on our knuckles... Whether it's in front of your computer incandescent with fury as a pre-teen shouts "TITS or GTFO!" or trying to get the goddamned coffee pot to work in the morning, I want to know what it takes to get you take that final step...

To start things off, I've put a random list of five (Lord knows there are more, and their importance tends to vary according to their proximity) for your edification. Please feel free to respond at will, as I'm looking forward to what you have to add.


DrV

THE LIST (for now):

1. Spiders. (no explanation necessary).

2. I have a problem with people who hit their girlfriends... and people who don't take 'no' for an answer... like, a serious problem... like... chainsaws... yeah... with fire.

3. Malfunctioning electronics. Like the DVD player, my alarm clock... or the heater in my classroom.

4. You know that guy? The one at the club? You know, the one whose "cell phone" has been digging in your back for the past half hour? The one who won't leave you alone, or take no for an answer? Yeah. Him.

5. Otters. Yeah, yeah, I know, I know... "But Doctor, otters are so cuuuuttte!!" Yeah, well, so were those little lizards in Jurassic Park, and we all know how that ended, now don't we??


*WARNIG: RANT-Y FOOTNOTE AHOY!! Now, to be sure, this probably has more than a little to do with the fact that I'm currently riding the downdraft of a truly righteous rage spiral, but it also has to do with my general impatience with the way that women and queers are told to wait patiently, kill 'em with kindness, and work through the rage until you find your way to a higher state of being. The way that violence is imbricated within modern masculinity, in a way that is traumatic for boys and men as well as the people around them, and the way that passivity and patience are said to be benchmarks of femininity. I just get so frustrated waiting for a future in which everything will be better... must we always be martyrs to a time that may not contain us? Why must we always sacrifice for children who we do not know and will not love? I know that violence isn't the answer, but I'm not sure that it isn't the answer...

Look at all the literary ladies!

The National Book Foundation has named their "5 Under 35" fiction writers for this year. And guess what? 4 of them are ladies!

Savor the lady pride.

Because when they make another literary list, it will be 1,000 white dudes and that perennial two-fer token, Toni Morrison.

Calling All Bitchez!

So.

Today, at the cafe (oh, dear, it's always a cafe these days, with the dissertating) I saw that the prized bay window niche was free for my taking and I took it. Because who doesn't want a 180-degree view of the world at large while taking one's forced march down the specialized and over-specific?

But, what I didn't realize is how much this particular cafe was a destination for the business meeting (earphones in, ambient noise out, normally) and that this particular window niche is a total commitment, should two or three people take the neighboring table and block all the few narrow points of egress otherwise available.

The result was that in my six hours writing about interiority and botany in the Romantic era, I was treated to not one but three consecutive long business meetings for exit-blocking neighbors. One of which began with a debate over the relative merits of kale vs. dandelion greens as a salad component, and turned out to be a catering contract where there were a lot of high-flown opinions and misplaced passions about vegetables (vegetables are fine and wonderful in their supporting role, but nobody goes home talking about the broccoli rabe, dammit). Another of which turned out to be a gossip session about the wedding plans of a coworker. I don't know whether my sympathies are more repulsed by materialist bridezillas or their backstabbing besties. But either way, I always make a note to fill my gratitude journal with effusive thanks for the fact that my friends all either came to me married or are not the marrying kind.

Conclusion: Oh shut up and leave so I can squeeze out for a cigarette without making a big production of your or my "agreeableness" in accommodating my fat ass.

But the business meeting between the two extremely "genteel" men really perked up my ears. For one, they were talking finance, which one does not see so often in my particular hipster neighborhood. I'm used to only seeing such economically-advantaged in their Harvard B-School ass-hat stomping grounds, where they feel ordering Jack neat is the very most leading edge of taste and it's OK to holler at obviously poor strangers (me) that they couldn't leverage their entitlement into untold and unearned millions (or billions). So two middle-aged gay boys talking about finance in the most civilized of terms was... novel.

But it was the raison d'etre for the meeting that really got me.

One financier had summoned the other for advice on how to deal with a problem character who was not "taking the hint" from his performance reviews. By not taking the hint I mean, he was told directly what the problem was, and not only was he defensive in taking criticism from his boss, he had no problem disregarding the recommendations entirely. And saying so, in front of his coworkers.

The problem: he was "ageist" and "too focused on beauty" of his clientele and coworkers and was apparently alienating everybody--the paying everybodies included--despite being "otherwise very talented." And they both talked about how offering mild correction would be a benefit to all, including his own personal growth. There was much talk about his personal growth.

Let me now confess that I will be doing some serious reading between the lines. I am imagining some jack-off tool who thinks that all value in women begins and ends tits and ass and is extremely vocal about it. I say this because there seems to be some serious overlap between dudely bros who think "ugly" women in any context are an insurmountable affront to their nuts and berries and dudely bros who think they are entitled to be the financial masters of the universe. If you don't believe me, recall the existence of Wall Street, and its present pathetic sequel (the latter of which appears to be some creepy Oedipal yet homosocial wrangling over the right to money and daughterly pussy, at least based on the trailer). Also, just trust me. They are all over this town. And it's not like this is Manhattan, you know? Beyond the ladies, I would further guess that anybody who strayed farther from his dudely world would present an existential crisis, should he or she or ze make his or her or hir existence unignorable.

So two things:

(1) What talent in finance--that profession in which driving the entire country into the effin' ground is rewarded with enough government cheese to bloat the bonus checks to historical record size the very next year for the very same people--is so effin' rare that someone can roam the cubicles undercutting the boss's authori-tay and said boss to have to justify an almost/not-quite smack down on the grounds of Oprah-tastic personal growth? You're a couple of gay dudes--you know what balls are. Find them--use them--silverback that poo-flingin' monkey into his place. Or replace him. They are a dime a dozen here and everywhere: and in the words of the immortal Beyonce, he shouldn't ever for a second get to thinking he's irreplaceable (for all his personal convictions of omnipotence).

(2) Because: I am quite certain that dude is spreading his bile among all his old, gay, lady, fat, uggos clientele and coworkers--to their daily, exquisite torture. And I am quite certain that flat out, pure principles first, nobody deserves this. And I am equally quite certain that no amount of talent can counteract the horror of finding, that when wanting to hand over some large sum of money to some probably not-quite well-known company, you are not taken seriously because you are old, gay, female, fat, or otherwise aesthetically tool-penis deflating. And then you don't want to hand over your money anymore. Pure principle aside, bad business.

So far, so obvious.

But, it needs to be stated.

For one, if you are in a position of power of any kind, don't put up with the kind of behavior that always dragged you down. Don't apologize. Be angry. It's OK to be angry, and it's OK to fire somebody, who, frankly, is a legal liability. You're the boss in a bad economy and untapped talent abounds--use it for the forces of good and hire someone who at least can swallow their vile hatred well enough to treat people with basic decency. What makes you miserable surely makes others miserable as well.

But, I know the motivation. I teach at a fancy-pants school. Everybody here thinks their shit don't stink, and relies on every cheap trick in the book to make me feel like it's my fault I smell an atrocious smell and not their gassy asses. For instance, women are not supposed to be bitchy--and criticism and rigorous standards are so bitchy. I'm sure same and/or similar standards apply to people who don't fit the white/straight/dudebro/able-bodied/young prescription. But at the end of the day, I'm in charge (sort of) and never have socialize with these sorts in actual fact--I can be the bitch, and it doesn't matter to me. But it does matter for those students who actually try and actually succeed, and to those who want to be in a class sans-asshattery. Draw conclusions about your underlings. If you wouldn't invite him to meet your partner over drinks, you need not worry about sacrificing your ethics to appearing agreeable.

At a certain point, there comes a day when, having boot-strapped, ass-kissed, and cock-sucked your way into a position of authority, you, the non-white/straight/dudebro/able-bodied/young person can actually use it.

Oh, please use it, for the little people who have no power and have to take the lashings of dudebro asshattery with patience and resigned wisdom! Don't lapse into uncertain apologia and euphemism! Don't be so effin' agreeable!

Don't excuse! Don't ameliorate! Obliterate!

[There are pom-poms in my imagination at this point.]