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Thursday, May 3rd, 2007

    Time Event
    5:34a
    Choice for men?
    This is the kind of story where you're grateful than the woman lived. One of the assailants had a four-month old kid himself. For guys like this, 'human' is defined as 'people that matter to me', and everybody else is at risk because he views them as impediments---or prey.

    You notice how when there's a story like this, it never gets linked up with other stories where other men tried to do the same thing, how it's forbidden to notice that other men have tried the same thing? There's a football player in jail who killed the mother of his child to avoid child support; there's the kid who claimed his girlfriend asked him to beat her till she miscarried: there's the choice for men group, who want men to have the ability to change their minds at any stage in the pregnancy, even while they whine about having to use condoms. Closely related are the guys who kill their kids to get back at their wives; prior to the killings, those guys whined about how evil their exes were, how they kept the kids to themselves. But you're not allowed to look at a whole bunch of different men doing it in different regions of the country and think that maybe it's a social trend. Nope, that's an infringement on mens' rights to be regarded as individuals.

    A funny thing happens when you regard a case on an individual basis. It stops being a social issue and becomes, instead, the story of one 'distraught' man. Men are always distraught, for example, at being served with divorce papers, and they 'never saw it coming'. How many times have you heard that? Frankly, the comment that the guy never saw it coming always irritates the fuck out of me, because I've had a couple boyfriends like that, and the reason they never saw the breakup coming was because they ignored me when I told them to stop doing something or saying something----it was always insults concealed as jokes------because what mattered to them was their own happiness. The myth, of course, is that women are manipulative, but if they are it's because they get called ball busters when they're honest. The other myth is that men are never manipulative, but whenver they call an honest woman a ballbuster, that's exactly what they're doing. Similarly, when they whine, "But honeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey, it was just a joke," after you've told them to knock it off, they're saying that they value their satisfaction more than your feelings. And so when they say they never see it coming, it's like saying they just don't see the dust, the dirty socks, the toothpaste hardening on the sink; they just don't care about it, except when they do and they whine where are the clean socks?

    If you love somebody, can you really make them your servant? I used to wonder about that, as I watched my mom do all the work that went into keeping the house clean, as I watched the fathers of friends sneer at their wives, "Well, what do you DO all day?" And when the boys at school were mean I got told that meant they liked me, which made sense in a way: if your future was picking up after a man, that was the best you could hope for. You'd get presents and sappy sentiments on Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, your birthday, and Xmas, and the rest of the year, you'd get labor and wonder why you weren't convinced.

    These guys worked and sneered at their wives if the house was messy, with four or five kids to be cared for, and they expected their dinner on the table and the wife to be presentable and hot to trot after a day of hard work. Meanwhile, book after book counseled women to put aside their cares and be all happy and eager to listen for hubby's sake. Or he'll leave you for that secretary at the office went the threat. When the wife did the unthinkable--this happened on my block-----and left him people were shocked. He never saw it coming, just like he never saw the dust, the hard work, or who she really was. It was almost like the men in the neighborhood didn't know the women they'd married, much less care, either. They preferred the myth to the reality, and the woman they married got tired of supplying the myth and struck out for reality, even if it meant working twice as hard.

    You can see it online, too, even now, where it doesn't matter how many times you say you're a feminist, people---usually men---act shocked when you put your foot down and actually enforce your own rules. "But you're such a ----feminist!" They sputter, all shocked, SHOCKED that you're walking the walk after giving them warning after warning. Every time they try and comment after being banned---you should see the trolls on the post from yesterday, about male knowitalls------it's them trying to make you give up and just go back to that polite myth-making woman, the woman who plays the part of the fantasy girl who goes along rather than leads, just because it's so much easier to be passive against the surge of the patriarchy.

    The patriarchy is like a flood that you have to swim against, and each man that fights for it is trying to rip you from your bearings and force you into the flood----or drag you down while you swim against it. It's hard enough to strike out on your own against that tide without people trying to drag you back, but that's what the constant drum beat of threats, or insults and stereotypes are supposed to do.

    And then they claim they're not doing nothin'-----you're the one that's doing something. You're the one that provoked them by being so unnatural, you have nobody to blame but yourself. All you have to do is go back to being a female impersonator in the patriarchy, because what you are and what the patriarchy wants from you are two different things. If you are what the patriarchy and some men want, the men that supposedly love you might as well profess their love for a Real Doll; it's not you at all. No wonder they don't see it coming. Just for survival's sake you have to be all these things to all sorts of people, and if you're not careful you might find yourself forgetting who you ever were. What you're supposed to be, of course, is perfect. There's no room for humanity in perfection, wihch is why we don't come close to demanding it of men without offering them all the power in the world, and evertying they want---including you. Anything less than the perfect toys is cheating.

    So this guy in the original story didn't want to be a father, but evidently not fucking or using birth control never occurred to him, even though those are the biological facts. So used to the perfect life wsa he that he viewed his girlfriend as an object who could be altered to suit his conveniance. In that, he was no different than lots of other guys, who never see it coming, whether it's pregnancy, or a request for divorce from the perfect wife.
    7:19a
    ERK!
    I'm going to have to rethink my theory about the bird massacre because this morning I saw Jezebel playing with something and it turned out to be A MOUSE! Right there in front of me! I thought she was playing with one of her toys and then I took a closer look at OMG ACK! This is not the way I want to start my morning. Now all the cats are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and sniffing the carpet and did I mention OMG ACK? Evidently the smell of defunct mouse in the morning is akin to caffeinated crack, because the cats----all four of them----are bouncing off the walls and eagerly sniffing around looking for more mice.

    Also, we had a horkalypse last night, which brings up a question in my mind: How come cats always toss their cookies at night? OH, yeah, and how come they always throw up on the damned carpet?
    9:46a
    The dangerous book for boys
    Yeah, so the hot new things is a book that teaches boys how to have fun: build paper sail boats, tree houses, pirate's hats, bows and arrows....and how to act around girls, like you know, we're a separate species who don't have any interest in any of those things.

    So why am I so pissed off first thing in the morning?

    What the hell are little girls going to be doing while the boys are out having all this fun? Why, the girls are going to be inside, reading insipid books about insipid heroines, having tea parties and playing dress up and learning how to appeal to and wait on boys and babies. What fun!

    We're teaching little girls right off the bat that they're servants and baby factories and we're teaching boys that they get to have fun. Anybody see a teensy problem with that?

    Their advice for boys to relate to boys is hysterical. Evidently not jeering at a girl 'who needs help' and being clean are terrible chores for guys, because they have to be told that. Here's a tip, kiddies: maybe the girls want to have the same kind of fun you do, instead of sitting around the house and learning how to be a servant. Maybe they're sick of the frickin' easy bake oven and want to go outside and run around and not get told to sit down nad be more ladylike. God, I know I did. Another irksome memory from my younger days: the way the teacher would say, "Raise your hands!" but let the boys get away with shouting out the answer, while suddenly remembering the rule only when a girl did it.

    If they put together a dangerous book for girls, what do you bet it'll contain tips on makeup and fairy dresses and baking cupcakes?
    11:10a
    Cat update
    So if a dog harasses a mailman in the neighborhood in MInneapolis, the whole block doesn't get mail. Jezebel has discovered how to play tug-of-war through the mail slot with the mail man. Does this mean I'm depriving my neighbors of their Netflix DVDs and junk mail?

    *Must set up video camera to catch her doing this. She keeps shoving mail out the slot back at the mail man and grabbing the outgoing mail and trying to pull it back. Then she looks through the slot at the mailman. Kind of like this icon:
    12:00p
    And from the other side of the aisle
    Here's some moron over at Feministe, expounding on the military:

    I hate people who join the military and don’t admit that they’re supporting rape and genocide by doing so. You’re hired fucking killers, people. You wanted to go to college, and you figured murdering a whole lot of brown people was a good way to do it. Just admit it.

    I hate people who say shit like this because it's racist and it's elitest besides. Excuse the fuck out of me, Ms. Military expert who had other ways to travel and go to college. Up until George W. Bush you could join the military and not ever fire a shot in twenty years. And nice accusation of racism, too. Never mind that the military represents the sole reliable way lots of 'brown' people have of getting to college.

    There are SOME people who join the military to change it. I really can't believe somebody could be so ignorant about poor peoples' choices as to be that judgemental and self-righteous. What next? You gonna make fun of unmarried mothers, too?
    1:13p
    What do you love?
    I looked out my back yard and overnight, there's green grass, the pips of lilies of the valley, and birds singing their little heads off. I have to fill my bird feeders. And the sky smells of rain, which always puts me in a good mood, as long as I don't get woken up by thunder, which sounds like I'm being mortared if it comes out of nowhere. I just thought it would be a good idea to ask this question: What do you love? What gives you pleasure?

    Me?

    Too many things to mention, but here's a few:

    The purring of a happy cat.

    The scent of rain before a storm.

    The first green grass of spring.

    The first exquisate lily of the valley blossum.

    The way lilacs perfume the breeze.

    The first rose of spring.

    An armful of peony blossums.

    The sight of morning glories, vigorously taking over whatever they touch.

    Good food, good friends, good conversation.

    To be warm when I'm chilled, and to be cool when it's hot.

    I love the humidity of summer. There's something lush about it.

    Lighting candles on a summer's evening and basking in the atmosphere.

    Martians.

    Zombies.

    Werewolves.

    Good horror movies.

    Bad horror movies----except not, you know, bad horror movies----I mean, the mean-spirited ones. If you can suspect that Principal Snyder of Buffy directed them, they're mean.

    Warm garlic baguettes.

    Cooking dinner over the hibachi.

    Camping.

    Walking.

    My little wicker shopping cart.

    Anything I got for a bargain.

    Pink champagne.

    Now you guys. What do you love, in a totally platonic and illogical way?
    5:14p
    Please hold [info]mirandaflynn in your thoughts. Her gran died and her mum is ill.

    Please remember [info]luvs_phoenix if you can. Her son is waiting for a double lung transplant and the family is stretched thin.

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