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Sunday, June 28, 2009


Tension: Feminism and the Biological Imperitive

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The writer quoted below styles herself a feminist, yet seems to have had her fill of nancy-boys and sensitive New-age Guys.

She needs herself a man.

Girlfriends’ Guide To… Mommy Porn: What We’re Really Fantasizing About

(she speaks about current events and then… )

I am shocked by this and a little disturbed by this inconsistency in my feminist politics and here’s why: These books portray the archetypal barely-civilized man lusting, actually hungering, for a frail and naïve woman. She loves him because he’s physically superior—tall, broad-shouldered, the whole Greek god thing, he knows her in a deep way that the rest of the superficial world has overlooked, and best of all, he can beat up anybody who messes with her. I am capable of some introspection and I, like you, can see that for a traditionally non-violent person who believes that a woman stands alone as a force to be reckoned with, there’s an obvious disconnect here. Yeah, but I’m in a mood.

I’m in the mood to see more people punched in the nose by a handsome hero. Perhaps the evolution of 21st century men into laptop toting, UFL-lit frequent fliers to further self-importance leaves many women hungering for a man who can cut down a tree, rebuild an engine and catch and gut a fish. And I want one of those kinds of guys handing out a few shiners to the girly men on my list: Bernie Madoff, Bill Clinton, Rush Limbaugh to name a few. Admit it, it felt good to see someone punch Perez Hilton, didn’t it? Viral bullying like his is no match for a physical call to attention. “Say it to my face, Tough Guy!” Bam!

You would never catch Edward Cullen, the vampire, creating a media event out of an abject failure of character; as in being away from his kids on Father’s Day (a criminal offense), cheating on his wife and evidently not even telling her where he could be reached in an emergency (also a felony), and hooking up in the first place on a “trade visit” to Argentina. Oh no. Edward would be rescuing Mrs. Sanford from all mistreatment, take her in his arms and make her forget the rest of the world and keep his promise to love her and protect her forever. He would be so full of rage at any mistreatment of a vulnerable woman that he would have to restrain himself physically to keep from killing (and drinking) her assailants.  Then they would have sex.

My favorite place to read is on airplanes and now that I’m on to my second generation of Kindle (the electronic book), I have been liberated from caring what casual observers think of my choice of literature. And as a result, mommy porn is taking over a large portion of the memory bank. I’m on my fourth book about a twentieth century woman who travels through time and falls in love with an eighteenth century Scottish Highlander. He’s gorgeous, huge, fights with daggers and broadswords and wears a kilt. He also loves his woman with a fury that occasionally borders on the side of uncivilized. Best of all, when someone offends her, he later presents her with a sack holding the offender’s head. Then they have sex.

Damn.

When I was in college, wearing your ROTC Jump boots almost meant the kiss-o-death on the dating scene.

Now that they’re all grown up and have kids NOW she figures out that a 2-fisted XY chromosome type is good after all.

Sheez.

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