All Agog On The Information Superhighway
It's very strange how late night Net-surfing through the wonders of Wikipedia and a nice, crystal tumbler of Jameson's on the rocks can lead you to such strange posting material.
Let me explain: I started off on my late-night jaunt, having worked from 12:45 PM until 10:45 PM on a bus line that runs just north of being a royal pain in the ass. I went home, spent a little time with my sleepyhead wife, and kissed her goodnight before going out to confront the horrors of the Internet head-on. That, my devoted peeps, is when I ran head-first into Andrea Dworkin.
You're not familiar? Oh, let me don the infamous Hat Of Snarkiness, then. Andrea Dworkin is a seminal figure in the feminist movement (motto: "Women are real people too, duh!") and one of the most controversial--not to mention psycho--figures in in its ranks. Until I read the Wiki article, I only knew three things about Dworkin, those being:
1) She had the novel idea that all sexual intercourse, no matter how loving or how many candles were lit, amounted to rape.
2) She had published literally scads of material on the subject, and while everyone seemed to know her name, very few people could be found who could actually tell the truth when saying, "Yes, I've read her material and no, I don't think she was at least partially unbalanced."
3) She was an absolute whacko, and saying this is sort of like saying that Ted Bundy was a bad bet in the dating department.
I could also mention that she was the kind of ugly that Jabba the Hutt regularly wrote long, soulful sonnets about, but that would be unnecessarily mean and hey, I'm not that guy. That's not how I do things around here. It should also be noted for the record that I was woefully incorrect in regards to Thing #1; she merely argued that the point that only heterosexual sex had been lionized in film, print, theater and so on, and therefore society at large was a bunch of churlish, heelish brutes who probably thought women should be barefoot and pregnant at all times. Like that's anything close to being realistic in the modern era of the two-income household, right?
Anyhow, with a plethora of time and a tasty tumbler of hard booze before me, I dived into the article. Dworkin got her start when she went to the Netherlands to interview a bunch of anarchists and ended up married to one of them. This guy was apparently a true prince of the land, and when I say this, I mean that he used to beat the shit of out her in the time-honored manner practiced by douchebags all over the globe. It got so bad, in fact, that she was willing to smuggle a case of heroin through customs in exchange for a plane ticket out of the country, her rationale being that either way the trip ended, she'd certainly be fixed for life.
Now, I can certainly understand the desire to get away from a psycho who will kill your soul, as evidenced by my experience with the Enemy Of Fun. I get that, people. I'll state for the record that I don't know anything about Dworkin prior to this period; meh, who knows? Maybe she was a very happy woman, perhaps she was always perpetually waiting for that other shoe to drop... truth be told, I don't know. It's possible that this unnamed Danish anarchist (the worst kind, in my opinion) was simple the straw that broke the camel's back, the last in a string of jackasses, sociopaths and shit-for-brains-alpha-males that systematically broke her down until she saw most men as the enemy, and not just The Enemy, but brothers and sisters, THE ENEMY!
Maybe. Then I read an account of her life partner, the horrifically emasculated John Stoltenberg, whose wonderful essay "Why I Stopped Trying To Be A Real Man" is linked here for your convenience. During their time together, he said he was gay (repeatedly and publically) and she said she was a lesbian (again, repeatedly and publically). Then it comes out, after her death in 2005, that they got married in 1998. However, nothing was ever disclosed about it because it was felt by these two median geniuses that people would be confused and interpret their commitment ceremony as some type of ownership.
It seems to me that this woman could spent much of her time doing something else... like, possibly being happy... if somebody had managed to explain to her that wanting to fuck somebody is not the same as wanting to repress them. Is looking at somebody and reducing them to the "would I bang you" question not giving a person their total due as a human being? No question that the answer to that question is yes. Do we do this on what amount to a more-or-less constant basis every day or at the very least, once in a blue moon? Yes, we certainly do. Oh, and is this an unforgiveable crime? No. Goddamnit, this is biology in action and I'd say that I'm sorry that it doesn't correspond with what people think is actions that should be taken by "nice people," folks... but I'm not. I believe in honesty and integrity, and while it's a nice fantasy, this just isn't a valid representation of real life.
It also seems to me that for somebody who was soooo outspoken during her life, she certainly whiffed big-time when it came to the honesty card being played in terms of her own marriage. You know, that soulful connection to another that you should be proud to trumpet to the heavens? If you don't at least give that some sort of public due, you are a charlatan.
Thoughts are appreciated.
Let me explain: I started off on my late-night jaunt, having worked from 12:45 PM until 10:45 PM on a bus line that runs just north of being a royal pain in the ass. I went home, spent a little time with my sleepyhead wife, and kissed her goodnight before going out to confront the horrors of the Internet head-on. That, my devoted peeps, is when I ran head-first into Andrea Dworkin.
You're not familiar? Oh, let me don the infamous Hat Of Snarkiness, then. Andrea Dworkin is a seminal figure in the feminist movement (motto: "Women are real people too, duh!") and one of the most controversial--not to mention psycho--figures in in its ranks. Until I read the Wiki article, I only knew three things about Dworkin, those being:
1) She had the novel idea that all sexual intercourse, no matter how loving or how many candles were lit, amounted to rape.
2) She had published literally scads of material on the subject, and while everyone seemed to know her name, very few people could be found who could actually tell the truth when saying, "Yes, I've read her material and no, I don't think she was at least partially unbalanced."
3) She was an absolute whacko, and saying this is sort of like saying that Ted Bundy was a bad bet in the dating department.
I could also mention that she was the kind of ugly that Jabba the Hutt regularly wrote long, soulful sonnets about, but that would be unnecessarily mean and hey, I'm not that guy. That's not how I do things around here. It should also be noted for the record that I was woefully incorrect in regards to Thing #1; she merely argued that the point that only heterosexual sex had been lionized in film, print, theater and so on, and therefore society at large was a bunch of churlish, heelish brutes who probably thought women should be barefoot and pregnant at all times. Like that's anything close to being realistic in the modern era of the two-income household, right?
Anyhow, with a plethora of time and a tasty tumbler of hard booze before me, I dived into the article. Dworkin got her start when she went to the Netherlands to interview a bunch of anarchists and ended up married to one of them. This guy was apparently a true prince of the land, and when I say this, I mean that he used to beat the shit of out her in the time-honored manner practiced by douchebags all over the globe. It got so bad, in fact, that she was willing to smuggle a case of heroin through customs in exchange for a plane ticket out of the country, her rationale being that either way the trip ended, she'd certainly be fixed for life.
Now, I can certainly understand the desire to get away from a psycho who will kill your soul, as evidenced by my experience with the Enemy Of Fun. I get that, people. I'll state for the record that I don't know anything about Dworkin prior to this period; meh, who knows? Maybe she was a very happy woman, perhaps she was always perpetually waiting for that other shoe to drop... truth be told, I don't know. It's possible that this unnamed Danish anarchist (the worst kind, in my opinion) was simple the straw that broke the camel's back, the last in a string of jackasses, sociopaths and shit-for-brains-alpha-males that systematically broke her down until she saw most men as the enemy, and not just The Enemy, but brothers and sisters, THE ENEMY!
Maybe. Then I read an account of her life partner, the horrifically emasculated John Stoltenberg, whose wonderful essay "Why I Stopped Trying To Be A Real Man" is linked here for your convenience. During their time together, he said he was gay (repeatedly and publically) and she said she was a lesbian (again, repeatedly and publically). Then it comes out, after her death in 2005, that they got married in 1998. However, nothing was ever disclosed about it because it was felt by these two median geniuses that people would be confused and interpret their commitment ceremony as some type of ownership.
It seems to me that this woman could spent much of her time doing something else... like, possibly being happy... if somebody had managed to explain to her that wanting to fuck somebody is not the same as wanting to repress them. Is looking at somebody and reducing them to the "would I bang you" question not giving a person their total due as a human being? No question that the answer to that question is yes. Do we do this on what amount to a more-or-less constant basis every day or at the very least, once in a blue moon? Yes, we certainly do. Oh, and is this an unforgiveable crime? No. Goddamnit, this is biology in action and I'd say that I'm sorry that it doesn't correspond with what people think is actions that should be taken by "nice people," folks... but I'm not. I believe in honesty and integrity, and while it's a nice fantasy, this just isn't a valid representation of real life.
It also seems to me that for somebody who was soooo outspoken during her life, she certainly whiffed big-time when it came to the honesty card being played in terms of her own marriage. You know, that soulful connection to another that you should be proud to trumpet to the heavens? If you don't at least give that some sort of public due, you are a charlatan.
Thoughts are appreciated.