Category: Absurd

Really now!

1965: Legal Marital Rape

/ Alessia / 4 Comments

Can a husband legally force his wife to have sexual relations when she doesn’t wish to? That 1965 Dell Purse Book by Richard T. Gallen, Wives Legal Rights, says, “Yes.” As long as his demands are “reasonable and her health is not impaired or endangered.”

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No mention of hitting or physically forcing her exists (apparently because on page five they’ve already said no hitting allowed).  But what’s really implied here with this notion that a husband’s legal right to force his wife to have sex so long as it doesn’t impair her physical health, is a side-step of physical abuse on the part of the man, neatly placing responsibility for any altercations at the feet of wives, for a wife can’t/ought not resist or she would be at fault for denying him his sexual rights.

All of this completely denies the existence of any other reason for sexual denial. As if her body & mind are indeed his property, subject to his whims.

We could just ignore this, write it off as “history,” but these idiotic notions are still with us. They linger in court decisions, media coverage, and even family reactions, even 40+ years later.

They only specifically mention sex during pregnancy, which clearly shows the fetus (or ‘baby’) has more value than the mother-to-be.

Then again, I know many women who while pregnant, wanted sex at least every night; those hormones, you know…

And there’s no mention of her right to have sex, pregnant or not. The stereotype that women don’t want sex was is so prevalent, that it doesn’t even warrant discussion of women’s marital rights to sex. *snort*

Marriage: We’ve Come Along Way, Baby?

/ Alessia / 4 Comments

In Wives Legal Rights, by Richard T. Gallen, a Dell Purse Book, © 1965, marriage is defined as both an emotional relationship and a legal arrangement, “a valid contract between a man and a woman, granting certain rights to each, demanding certain responsibilities of each.” It’s taken decades for Webster’s to catch up on the definition of marriage to include same sex couples (which, as you’ll see at that link, is upsetting to co-called conservatives — selfish, intolerant bastards), and the legal definition is even worse. So it shouldn’t be surprising that other concepts are having an equally long a culture lag.

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Paging through this retro Dell booklet, it’s easy to see that the gender split isn’t just regarding who is in a marriage, but what role each gender has within a marriage. Women are legally required to perform domestic chores and to care for husband and children. On the flip-side, men are required to support, protect and maintain wives and children (but nowhere is is listed that husbands are to care for their wives and/or children).

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This may not seem very alarming on the surface (to me it’s a giant WTF?! moment), but the antiquated way of legally assigning roles in a personal relationship sure is government dictating personal lives. Even if marriage laws are no longer written this way, the cultural lag exists and for many, such shifts in change have not been made, making it more difficult even for those who do believe differently.

It’s easy to see where the cultural assumptions of women having the ‘home sphere’ impacts equal pay for equal work, the pink ghetto from pink collar jobs etc. Women are still not true equals in society because we are not seen as having equal footing and participation, which leads to attitudes & assumptions about women’s roles in society and individual marriages.

It’s not just the cave men (and their families) who wish to keep women in their (historical) place, but the insidious perceptions off of which people operate — sometimes unaware they hold such notions (or the unhappiness they instill) until they are tested. But once you are married, it is often too late to renegotiate what has already been seen as accepted.

My advice to you is to clearly discuss your expectations about roles in relationships with prospective mates. Be clear about what you and won’t do or tolerate — and be equally clear what you expect. Better to leave that old fashioned thinking fish in the pond, than to forever be on the hook.

My Pajamas Made Him Kill Me (Or, In Which I Review A Film I Haven’t Seen)

/ Alessia / 6 Comments

Most would say it’s not fair to review a movie you haven’t seen — and normally I’d agree. It’s an ethics thing. But sometimes you hear about a movie (based on the opinions of those who have seen the film), and you just have to say something…

This is especially true when the movie is based on a true story.

In this case, the film is based on a crime — but the real crime here is not (just) that the makers of the film have sensationalized and exploited a murder, but have missed the very points which make the story moving and important.

The film is The Pyjama Girl Case (1977), and it’s based on the real life story of the unidentified charred remains of a woman discovered in Australia in 1934.

Let’s begin with the reviews…

Stanley Runk “Runkdapunk” says:

On the books this film is a giallo, but it is only in the most basic sense. Yeah it’s a murder mystery, it deals with sexual themes and it’s Italian. That’s where all comparissons end though. No rampaging killer with gloves and a hat/hood and no real body count to speak of other than the Pyjama girl herself. Sure there are a few more deaths, but not until the end of the film.

J. B. Hoyos says:

“The Pyjama Girl Case” disappointed me for several reasons. First, and foremost, it is not a true Italian giallo. Absent is the typical black-gloved serial killer. Only two people are murdered. Second, this movie doesn’t contain any major shocks or plot twists. The plot is very linear. Third, there is only one attractive woman and that is actress Dalila Di Lazzaro who later went on to act in Dario Argento’s superb “Phenomena,” which is definitely an Italian giallo.

(Oh, and “Runkdapunk” also says that Dalila Di Lazzaro is “yummy except for the armpit hair” — just in case you wanted to know.)

And those are the people who gave it three stars at Amazon; there are worse reviews with less stars.

Now I don’t know what a “giallo” is, let alone an Italian one, but that’s neither here nor there because I’m not going to judge this film by whatever standards either may have. And I’m not going to even discuss if a movie can have enough killing (I’m totally one girl who doesn’t go in for body-count flicks). But I do have a lot to say.

Again, this movie is based on a true story. The real-life “Pyjama Girl” was a brutally murdered unknown woman, whose battered and partially burnt body was found dumped roadside in Albury, New South Wales on September 1, 1934. Normally I find the phrase “brutally murdered” to be redundant or excessive — nearly an expletive to induce horror — but the details, according to Australian Screen, make it pretty clear that one can easily use the extra word:

The victim’s head was wrapped in a bloody towel and her body was pushed headfirst into a hessian bag. The body had then been set alight. A post-mortem revealed that she had been shot below the right eye, but the cause of death was probably eight blows to her face.

“Brutal murder” no longer seems to be just for shock-value, does it?

Anyway, as her identity was not known, the woman was dubbed the “Pyjama Girl” because she was found wearing pieces of pyjama fabric.

After coroner’s inquest failed to establish the identity of the woman, artists’ sketches and a forensic facial reconstruction were created to represent what the victim may have looked like, with the images shown around the world, in hopes that someone would identify her.

And her body was preserved in order to be put on display and shown to hundreds of people. Yes, hundreds of people paraded past her post-mortem. For ten years.

Her death was naturally shocking, but her death became a mystery which fascinated the nation and, for some, became an obsession. To the extent that in 1939 an entertainment “newsreel” was made to be shown in cinemas before feature films (and, in some cases, was, like other newsreels, shown continuously).

Again, a quote from the Australian Screen (where you can catch clips):

The Pyjama Girl Murder Case newsreel, produced in 1939 after the coronial inquest, is considered to be Australia’s first true crime film. Filmmakers Rupert Kathner and Alma Brooks defied a ban by the New South Wales Police Commissioner, William MacKay, on newsreel coverage of the case and even tried to break into Sydney University to film the body. The use of adverbs such as ‘stealthily’ and emotive phrases such as ‘fiend in human form’, as well as the re-creations of various episodes of the case, indicate the ways in which the filmmakers sought to sensationalise the case.

In 1944, ten years after her body was found, a man was convicted not of her murder, but of manslaughter. Rat-bastard Antonio Agostini confessed to the police commissioner that he had “accidentally shot” his wife, Linda Agostini, “during an argument.”

Just how unlikely it is that Linda was Pyjama Girl (Linda Agostini had brown eyes; Pyjama Girl’s eyes were blue), is as astonishing as a husband who confesses to murdering his wife but only gets 6 years — and serves less then 3. And this is stuff that Richard Evans tells in his book, The Pyjama Girl Mystery (also available via Amazon).

But what we end up with now, are two dead women — both of which were likely killed by men they knew. (The odds say it’s true; and who else has access to a woman in her pajamas?)

Author Evans’ investigation into this case is far more fascinating than the story told in that 1977 movie — but that’s not even my main (or only) point.

Apparently in 2004, Australia’s ABC’s Rewind program ran a story on the Pyjama Girl mystery and, along with an extremely interesting interview with Evans, they presented this fascinating bit of cultural commentary:

MICHAEL CATHCART: In the 1930s, pyjamas were exotic, the sort of thing worn by young flappers. These so-called ‘new women’ dressed in skimpy clothes, they smoked, they drank, they partied and they laughed at convention. The straitlaced moral guardians of the day held up the Pyjama Girl as an example, a warning of what happens to young women who go astray.

CALEB WILLIAMS, CURATOR, JUSTICE AND POLICE MUSEUM: It was a wonderful trope for the newsmen of the day to play with. The idea of, you know, this wonderful, gorgeous, sexy woman abandoned bashed in a ditch in a pair of exotic silk pyjamas – it was sort of media heaven, basically.

In case you missed it, let me highlight the most offensive part here: The straitlaced moral guardians of the day held the Pyjama Girl up as a warning of what happens to young women who go astray. Why did they think the young woman had “gone astray”? Because she wore pajamas.

Pajamas.

Pajamas were, at the time, the “exotic” sort of thing worn by young flappers. And flappers were amoral women. Women who, apparently, deserve to be beaten, shot, burned and left dead in a ditch.

That’s a whole lot of conclusion jumping and victim blaming.

Just like the crap said about Linda Agostini.

Wikipedia (a site I trust about as much as I do the investigation into the Pyjama Girl case), says that Linda was a “penniless glamour girl” who “worked at a picture theatre in the city and lived in a boarding house on Darlinghurst Road in Kings Cross where all accounts tell she ‘entertained’ more than her fair share of young, attractive men. Platt was a heavy drinker and a flighty Jazz Age party-goer who had difficulty adjusting to stability.” Lovely. Who writes and edits at Wiki? Tony Agostini’s family?

Wiki does not reference those particular sentiments (for they sure aren’t facts), but none of the sites referenced says such things. One of the sites referenced, Australian Dictionary of Biography, says the following:

Tony and Linda were a popular couple. He was 5 ft 7 ins (170 cm) tall, trim and dark haired; she was only five feet (153 cm) tall, attractive and well liked. Yet, according to Tony, their relationship was not an easy one.

Linda sometimes left him for long periods and drank too much which shamed him within the Italian community. In 1933 the couple moved to Carlton, Melbourne, where he worked on the newspaper, Il Giornale Italiano, and she took a job at Ferrari’s hairdressing salon in the Manchester Unity Building. Agostini later claimed that there were frequent altercations. During one quarrel in bed, Linda was fatally shot with a pistol which Tony alleged she had held.

“They were well liked,” but… Tony says “their relationship was not an easy one,” Tony says there were “frequent altercations,” Tony says they argued in bed and she had a pistol. *snort*

Tony says it was an accident — but the bitch had it coming.

Who is here to speak for Linda? (And couldn’t I argue that with an ass-hat like Tony for a husband, I’d take off and drink too. Only I wouldn’t return to where he lives — by my choice, not his hand.) But let’s all blame the victims.

Linda’s treatment is like Pyjama Girl’s: Unfair and unwarranted crap which absolves their murderers from any responsibility. Which makes me really, really upset. The kind of upset that renders me unable to even swear properly.

How can anyone ven suggest that a woman was somehow responsible for her own murder because of the PJs she wore or drinking?

That Pyjama Girl’s death & “murder case” was reduced to media hype, social agendas, sloppy & corrupt police work — and just plain political no matter how you cut it — is a story which deserves to be told. If only because it may be the only way this woman (and Linda Agostini and other victims) can be honored. And because it just might be of value in teaching people what matters.

And that isn’t a woman’s pajamas. Or her short skirt. Or the number of drinks she’s had, who she knows, where she goes. She’s human and her life was taken — and likely by someone she trusted.

So, just how ridiculous does that not-giallo-enough film made in 1977 seem now? Like some chick’s armpit hair, it just doesn’t matter. Other than it was an insignificant waste of time.

And yeah, I could be all wet because, as I readily admit, I didn’t see this 1977 film. But then “Runkdapunk” says, “The disc has a half hour documentary about the actual Pyjama girl murder case which is actually more interesting than the film.” So I rest my case.

Now if only poor “Pyjama Girl” could only rest in peace.

Of Sex Surveys Run By Maxim

/ Alessia / 6 Comments

OK, I like Maxim — unlike Cosmo, it’s a magazine that’s pretty clear who and what they are all about. But I have a little bone to pick regarding the 2009 Sex Survey in their March issue (yeah, the one with dreamy Dushku on the cover — I’ve got a girl crush on her, and I don’t care who knows it).

“More than 2,000 female readers of Maxim.com, TheFrisky.com, Lemondrop.com, and PopSugar.com, aged 18 to 48 and from all over the country, took our in-depth survey…” Now I’m no statistician, but 2,000 speaking for an entire gender on the globe — or even the nation — seems pretty small. What’s worse, is that I would have expected a greater number than that just from Maxim‘s site; yes, even just female readers of Maxim should be more than 2,000. Then again, a recent survey says that only seven percent of a magazine’s subscribers seek/read the magazine’s website. But that survey only had 316 participants?!

Then you add in the other websites — all of which I’m sure boast more than 2,000 unique visitors a day to their advertisers — and you have what I’d call a diminutive survey participation rate. (Word to my bloggin’ pals: don’t feel badly about poor blog participation/comment ratios; the Big Sites don’t do any better.)

And that’s before we even get to the readership bias issues of pre-selected groups of women…

It’s pretty clear from the canned “In an effort to help the male readers of Maxim magazine understand us women a little better, they’ve asked…” line used in all the posts of the female-centric sites which partnered with Maxim for this survey that the publication sent out a form letter to the sites they selected — and that they selected/defined women based in large part upon the stereotypical female interests of celebrity gossip, shopping and relationship sites. Not all women are defined by such activities and websites. And the latter, women interested in reading about relationships, pretty much precludes women who are happy in their relationships — which would pretty much seem to be the best ones to offer men (and women) insights into what works. But whatever.

While this all sounds like I’m gonna spank some behinds rosy red (and you know I love to wear my leather domminatix gear when dishing media madness and relationship mythology), I don’t entirely disagree with the Maxim survey results.

So stick around for more; I’m breaking it up into more easily digestible points/posts.

Cosmo On Being Well-Hung

/ Alessia / 2 Comments

I kid-you-freakin’-not, in their section titled “The Single Girl’s Bible” Cosmo offers three-step instructions on how to hang a picture. With illustrations. Because it’s just that difficult.

Jeebus.

What the hell, Cosmo, are you actually under the impression that women don’t know how to hang pictures — that we’re on the dating scene because we need to marry a hammer-wielding man or our framed posters of hang-in-there kitties will never be hung on the wall?

While the column is by Molly Triffin and the “how to hang a picture” credits go to Thom Filicia, Cosmo has editors, right? Someone who makes the decisions on what to publish & how to publish it.

And I’ll accept any loose definitions of “editor”…

Like there’s a retarded horny monkey who randomly flings his or her own poo at the things that “need” to be published on the slick pages — a monkey who does this in exchange for food (to make the poo to fling), something for sexual release (a blow-up monkey doll, or a helping hand of some sort), and shelter (some place to eat, screw and fling poo — the office will do).

But then I’m not sure a retarded horny monkey would even suggest that single women wouldn’t know how to hang a picture — at the same time implying that married women have no need for this masculine knowledge.

Women hanging pictures? Using tools?! That’s not just wacky, that’s dangerous!

Thank Gawn I’m married so I’ll never have to learn how to do this. Not.

Cosmo Is For Those With Relationship Autism (And Living 60 Years Ago)

/ Alessia / 1 Comment

I know that you’re thinking I’m an insensitive bitch for saying “Relationship Autism” — but I have members of my family & friends on the Autism Spectrum (as well as others with similar challenges) and so I know what the hell (and what hell) I am talking about.

I know, I know, I know, that me mocking relationship advice &/or those who need it seems pretty freakin’ hypocrytical — but dude, there’s a difference between honestly trying to help people and doing what Cosmo does. And just what is it that Cosmo does? Oh, thanks for asking — because I’m dying to tell you.

Cosmo tells us things we all should know — like if he strokes your thigh, “sexy one-on-one time” is on his mind. (February 2009 issue.)

A-doy.

Something we all know — unless, of course, you seriously are on the Autism Spectrum or otherwise have a note from your doctor regarding an emotional &/or cognitive deficit. (But if you or someone you know does have such issues, they should not — repeat, NOT — be reading Cosmopolitan magazine. In fact, I don’t know just who should be reading Cosmo…  There’s danger in that-there publication.)

But just in case we aren’t grasping this subtlety of human behavior or have some memory problems, Cosmo wants us to know that he likes it if we grab his thigh too. (March 2009 issue)

This sort of turn-about is about as close to liberated as issues of Cosmo get.

(And no, I am not done with pointing out Cosmo‘s flaws — until they clean-up their act, I’ll keep up my activities alerting you to their irrelevance.)

Of Labeling, Limiting & Running Your Fingers Down Some New Spines

/ Alessia / 2 Comments

Andi (of Outer Limits — a most fun blog), has an excellent post: lesbian fiction, or does this book make me look gay? (Who doesn’t get sucked into reading with a title like that?!)

Her discussion (similar to this round-table: Labeling Lesbian Fiction Debate) centers on the issue of whether or not it is a service, a disservice, or a meaningless point, to label works of fiction as “lesbian.”

I’m straight (but not narrow), so maybe my opinion doesn’t really count — but I’m not afraid of books or movies or TV shows or whatever with lesbians or gay or trans folk. If people want to play Guess The Reader’s Orientation By Her Book Purchases (Or Reading Habits), that’s their little game & I don’t care. Besides, they’d be puzzled anyway.

I think separating books by “character orientation” is as silly as categorizing them by marital status. So if we have “Gay Mysteries”, “Bisexual Westerns, “Trans Literature” and “Lesbian Sci-Fi” then why not have “Celibate Sci-Fi” (maybe that’s redundant? lol), “Old Maid Romance” (err, that fits some people who confuse fantasy fiction with real life expectations for relationships) and “Heterosexual Monogamous Adventures” (if strictly read in the missionary position, it’s surely an oxymoron)… Though “Married & Not Getting Any Mysteries” might actually be found in self-help. Heh.

I joke, but I’m serious about segregating books based on character orientation. What’s next, stories with African American characters can only sit on shelves at the back of the store? Because that’s what these categories feel like to me; just another way to label and limit.

A good detective story, adventure, or love story, is a good read no matter what labels the publisher or Barnes & Nobel clerk assigns the book in the shelving process. Fictional characters & their stories are no more limited to their orientation — or gender, race, marital status, religious beliefs, political party or any other label — then real people are. When you categorize, label, and therefore limit the fictional people, you are inches away from limiting the real people.

Which brings us to dating.

While it’s good to know yourself and know the characteristics you’re looking for & even require in a mate, it’s ridiculous to categorize, label and limit potential dates — you’re only limiting yourself.

OK, so maybe being totally, inflexibly straight &/or Republican means you may have limit yourself in a category or two.  But it doesn’t mean you need to ignore a million other people by the labels they have or the labels you think they have.  Meeting other people means you’ll be exposed to more characters, more stories.

So go ahead, run your fingers along a few spines outside your typical categories; see what new characters you find and what new stories you’ll have to tell.

Neither A Poser Nor A Cosmo Reader Be

/ Alessia / Leave a comment

If you trust Cosmo — and by now you shouldn’t — let me tell you to utterly ignore their “fun & fearless” advice to meet a new guy at a Super Bowl party.

Not only will you be hated for being a football-wanna-be (the reason most real football fans watch the game at home) but you’re dooming yourself to either A) a relationship life in which you must continue to watch football and other sports you don’t like or B) be found out for the poser you are; neither of which is a good thing.

If you really do give a hoot about the Super Bowl, you’d be going already and wouldn’t need Cosmo to tell you it’s a good idea to put on a team-logoed shirt and stand near a similarly dressed male.

Dear Cosmo, I Hate You; And I’m Pretty Sure You Hate Me Too

/ Alessia / 3 Comments

Cosmo, you claim to be a magazine for women, but with your featured headlines screaming “What Sex Feels Like For Guys: Once You Know the Key Arousal Triggers, You Can Double His Satisfaction” I know who it is you really serve. And it isn’t me.

Honestly, do you really think women need pressure to perform for men — or any partner? Make no mistake: That’s what you are saying when you want us to focus on the satisfaction of others. It’s not like women have a long rich history of selfishness; on the contrary, ours is a history of selflessness. So when your cover also screams “Get More Pleasure: The Secret to Savoring Every Moment” I know it isn’t going to include my sexual pleasure. (It doesn’t. And, as I wrote before, Cosmo doesn’t exactly want us to find pleasure in our naughty dreams either.) It’s clear that you, Cosmo, believe my sexual satisfaction is unimportant, a distant third to pleasing him and capturing him (which is really about pleasing him anyway).

No, I’m so not over this Cosmo issue; and you can’t make me stop ranting about it. Cosmo, with its pandering to men under the guise of female liberation, is actually so misogynistic that it is dangerous. And people need to know.

13 Reasons To Hate Cosmo – In Just One Issue

/ Alessia / 10 Comments

Gawd I hate Cosmo. It’s like they simply cannot fathom that we see they’ve been running the same articles over & over again since Helen Gurley Brown became editor-in-chief in 1965, and began using the mag as an extension of 1962’s Sex and the Single Girl.

Don’t get me wrong, Sex & the Single Girl was wildly wonderful for the time (and holds up much better than you might think); but it was one book in 1962 and if we’re supposed to have come a long way, baby, then why the hell are we operating off a 1962 manual?

Plus, you can only recycle so much.

Even if you think, “There’s new chicks aging into woman’s mags every year,” you have to accept the fact that they know — or should frickin’ know — that old news is not only old news but hurtful and dangerously inaccurate.

Thirteen Examples Why I Hate Cosmo
(All from the February, 2009, issue.)

1 On page 50, In The Best Times To Impress Him, under “When his buddy gets dumped,” the advice reads as follows:

If your female friend suffers a breakup, you bring over Sex and the City DVDs and talk about how she “feels.” If your guy’s male friend gets the ax, however, he has only one job: to help the dude get laid. So give your man the green light to spend more time than usual acting as a wingman when out with the boys.

Ugh. So A), couples only have same-sex friends, they are B) stereotypes. (My friends and I — male and female — have a strict code that should any of us own &/or view Sex & the City, we are to drive them to the closest impatient care facility & destroy the DVDs.) And C) pimping is good for your relationship, so to hell with the scars on either “your guy’s male friend” or his sexual conquests.

2 Page 54, “How I got him to…” is an ode to man-ipulation. It starts with the “men are easily distracted like babies” — so change his cell phone ring to his favorite tune to keep him from answering it (hey, he’ll like listening to the small clip repeated so much that he’ll totally ignore a call from work, his mom… maybe even you). And then ends with stuff you already should know how to do, like if he says it’s natural to flirt with other women so you’re free to do the same, feel free to do it. (We know it may not make him get jealous and stop like “Chloe” wanted; but hell, neither of you are dead; so why the hell not flirt? Flirting is not picking-up or cheating.)

3 page 67: Beauty News. It’s not “ads” but the usual editorial serving as ads; and even worse, it’s stupid.

When you pull off your tights, a cloud of dust pops up. Cold temps plus indoor heat zap moisture. Switch to a hydrating body wash, like Caress Glowing Touch, $3.50.

4 Page 74: Beauty Q & A:

Q: When I wear heavy fabrics, I sweat a lot. What can I do to prevent it?

A: “Layer a cotton tee under a sweater — the natural fibers absorb moisture,” says NYC derm Doris Day. Also try a stronger sweat blocker, like Secret Clinical Strength Anti-Perspirant, $7.99.

‘Cuz A) believing the “derm” wouldn’t sell Secret ad space and B) asking why she wears sweaters in the first place is out of the question… Because “Q” is a made-up question from struggling editors.

5 Fun Fearless Males 2009, page 83. Heavens, if they are so fun & fearless — and celebrities — why don’t I already know about them? And why would I care? It’s not like I’m so deluded to think that my discovery of them (should I even agree with their sales pitch selections) makes me frickin’ eligible to date them.

6 Page 98: What Sex Feels Like for Him. Yeah, we can count on Cosmo to tell us how our man feels about us & with us; so there’s no need, should we A) actually be curious or B) not already have him telling us what he wants and why, to actually ask our real, not pseudo-Cosmo-guy, ourselves.

7 Page 103 starts 50 Guy Phrases Translated, in which Cosmo rapes other written works, distilling them to hysterical uselessness. Cracking the male “cryptic code” includes translating, “Can we talk about this later,” to, “I never want to talk about this again.”

Gee, really?

I suppose next you’ll tell me that when he says “We should go out sometime,” that he’s just afraid to really ask me out… And “You look hot” means he wants to have sex. Oh wait, that’s #2 & # 29.

8 We are not to be “alarmed” by our “freaky sex dreams, we are soothed (starting on page106).” Sex with the ex, girl-on-girl action, and dreams of sex without condom use aren’t what we fear think they are — nope, they aren’t even hot dreams we should just enjoy.

Cosmo, you’re worse than a wet blanket; at least then I’d have a wet spot & be damn happy for it.

9 In Love & Lust (apparently a regular feature) the Cosmo skinny is that playing hard to get (but not too hard to get) is phat. Yes, it’s 2009 and we believe women don’t know that the thrill of the chase is thrilling to both chaser and chasee. I mean, come on; this is the stuff we all miss when we ‘settle down’ and, if we take each other for granted, end up in divorce court for.

But thanks, Cosmo, for telling the women of today who paid $4.50 for your rag that “texting him your location at all times” is “not hard enough”, that waiting to reply to his text a day later with “Who r u?” is “too hard” but that “sending short texts and resisting the urge to engage in volleys” is “just hard enough.”

10 On page 112, more of Love & Lust, has the classic, “he lost his class ring in my pussy” story. If you don’t know it, ask your dad to tell you a sex joke.

And then work on your freakin’ Kegles for gawd’s sake.

11 Page 192, in Cosmo Weekend Living, we are advised not to make our rooms too girlie &/or paint our rooms pink because “guys don’t feel comfortable in estrogen-heavy rooms.”

Yeah, unless our estrogen-heavy bods are naked; then, like they notice — let alone care.

12 Page 52: Cosmo for your guy — “show this to your man!” Two problems here: A) the whole mag is an ode pandering to negative male stereotypes, so if you’re going to encourage him, why stop at one page? and B) if your guy needs help to know that whispering “Remember that time on the kitchen floor?” is sexier than whispering “I’m so drunk!” to you, I doubt reading it in print in Cosmo will be of any help — to either of you.

(And then he might just flip through it and start thinking about your pink duvet and why you programmed the ringtone on his phone.)

13 Oh, are we at thirteen already? But there’s so much more… OK, I’ll give you just one more & then I’ll stop. For now. The perfumed ads reek. As if I didn’t have a headache already.

PS I didn’t buy this copy of Cosmo; I liberated it my sister-in-law from it. And yes, she heard all of this as an oral presentation as I took it.

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From The “Wha Wha Wha Poor Men” Files

/ Alessia / 4 Comments

This is a relatively-new blog so I have not yet had the time to get into Everything, but if there’s one thing that irks me (and let’s face it, we know there are sooo many things that do bother me), it’s men complaining about how bad they have it.

Poor poor men with their hugely disproportionate power base. Poor poor men who — despite a 100+ year old suffrage and other assorted women’s movements — still retain a huge majority of the economic, legal and brute force (via armies etc.) power in the world. Poor poor men who can’t deal with (amazingly small) micro-changes in gender roles. Wha wha, my heart so does not bleed for you.

Not that we women hate me; many of us who complain the loudest have men for fathers & grandfathers, are married-to and happily live-with men — some of us even lovingly raise male children. Who knew?!

But every time we point out the disparity, the inequality, and yes, the personally & publicly horrifying things that men do, we are man-haters. It can’t possibly be that we are offended & disappointed by the male refusal to accept the responsibility which comes with power; we must simply hate them.

I tell a true story about a dog that mauls a child and, whether I have a dog or not, that doesn’t make me a dog hater; but tell a true story about a man who beats a woman and I’m a man hater. Totally stupid. :snort:

But it happens.

And if you dare to point out just how stupid that thinking is, you are only more of a man-hater. :sigh:

Today, on Twitter, a public conversation about this man-hating phallacy fallacy which highlights a seemingly rather benign conversation about women and their hate of men…

Briancarter, self-described SEO optimizer and “funny keynote speaker/stand up comedian” (it will become crystal clear in a few minutes why the funny-man makes a living being the opposite of funny), asks: Is there an antonym for misogynist? And to be perfectly clear, he is searching for “a hater of men” — and, yes, lesbian jokes will be made ha ha ha — let’s laugh at the lesbian-man-hating stereotype.

Two minutes later he tweets: lol classic! I asked is there an antonym to misogynist, RT @zainyk: @briancarter The View.

He gets a more serious reply from shellerae: @briancarter a misandrist hates persons of the male sex, a misogynist hates persons of the female sex, & a misanthrope is a hater of mankind

He replies: @shellerae nice, but no one ever uses misandrist…?

And then it disintegrates into more mocking of The View and women while Brian ignores more insight from shellerae, who tweets both “I love men {shrug} so would be hard for me to use & would avoid people who described themselves as such!” and “I think there are people who don’t hate the “gender” but more don’t respect it.”

And then we get to the meat of the matter when Brain says, “ya I was thinking: there are women who hate men, so why don’t we hear a word for that as often as we hear misogynist?”

Maybe it’s because man-hating is — if not a complete myth — then far, far less prevalent than the hatred of women. Duh.

As Astrogirl426 says: And anyway, there is a word for man-haters (of either sex): misandrope. Perhaps there just arent as many of us– I mean them ;)

It seems that the conversation ended with Brian’s lame tweet: lol no I think you took it way too personally- a lot of people answered that way… sorry :-)

Sorry? Sorry?! That’s all you have to say?

You start a conversation, one that adds to larger public discourse, which reduces valid female complaints of factual disparity to the simplistic, nonsensical, and dismissive “women hate men” — and then, between making and encouraging lame negative stereotypical jokes and ignoring sane comments, when you learn that you offend people, and all you can do is blame them for taking it “way too personally” — ending with a “sorry” which reads more like you are sorry for what they did or said than taking responsibility for your own actions?!

Jeebuz.

Let’s Date Like My Sister Eileen?

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I made issue #14 of the Feminist Carnival of Sexual Freedom and Autonomy (yea me!), which reminds me that I should give you an update on that media and relationships survey I’m participating in…

The survey is based on your TV and movie viewing habits of the past week, which means you’re reporting on your holiday season habits. Personally, my sitting-on-my-butt and watching television &/or films time has been very limited by holiday stuff — but also because TV programing has sucked the past month. This means I’ve watched mainly The History Channel and NatGeo (which, unless you categorize this watching as “news” puts your viewing in the “other” category on this survey) and it has had, upon reflection, little to do with my relationship values — other than to find great pleasure in the fact that my partner also likes geek TV.

I’ve also snuck in the occasional TCM (and other old film) viewing. This has been secretive alone-at-night-while-working movie watching — but not because it’s some naughty or guilty pleasure to watch a “chick flick”. Writing, being a solitary pursuit most enjoyed by night owls, lends itself to complete remote control domination when one is well, you know, screwing around and not working. However, my point is, that the movies I’ve watched (including The Pleasure Seekers, My Sister Eileen, and Sabrina) were retro films, if not all Classic Films with capital C & F, and as such it’s damn near impossible for a feminist to watch those films and not giggle, smirk, or groan at the sexist roles and actions. They are entertainment (served with an equally entertaining side dish of snark that I am unable to turn off) not some map for relationship bliss.

If they were, then I guess my first tip in getting a date would be to go out drinking with your sister & two fellas, walk drunkenly to a gazebo, and have the four of you burst into song, dance, and imaginary instrument playing a la My Sister Eileen. But then, you’ll also end up with some other guy… Which involves some lying, lots more song and dance, the Brazilian Navy, and lots more…

My point is, if I (and any other intelligent sentient being) can realize that musicals are fantasies, why would anyone expect to find tips on relationships & romance in such films?

Oh, and I also watched Elf; and that didn’t make me think that I might have missed an opportunity to mate a real elf and get myself closer to Santa’s Nice List.

So, over all, my feelings regarding media and relationships have neither changed nor become more enlightened by this survey process. While there’s still weeks to go (and I am interested in what may come from the experience), I’m still amazed that there are people out there — that I’m sharing this same world with — who honest to gawd, still base their real world relationship expectations upon images in film and television.

May gawd help us all.

Of Cars, Cavemen & Cooking

/ Alessia / 1 Comment

I was driving this weekend and on the car radio (in some town I was driving through so I can’t remember the town or the station) a DJ was announcing the “news” that women are more attracted to men who cook over the presumed status symbol of the car he drove. (I’m assuming he got the idea here.)

The male DJ was freaking out at the idea, asking for female callers to confirm or deny such a thing.  As woman after woman called in confirming the “news”, he was becoming more incredulous.  “This goes against everything we men knew,” he said (though I am paraphrasing a bit from memory), “We guys go and get the job to get the car because that impresses women.”

Uh, what century is he living in?  We women have been able to have careers & buy our own cars for quite some time now — and while we may not be paid dollar for dollar for the same work, we certainly aren’t going to go all batty-eyelashes & giggly-hair-flips over a man with an automobile.

Since we are working, we obviously prefer a man who can & does cook.  We don’t want to be made to feel that we are responsible for a man literally dying from hunger while we work our medical internships, stay late at the office to get the promotion, or meet the girls at the martini bar for happy hour.  And isn’t it nice to have a man make the meal, serve the meal to us, and clean up afterwards!  We all like to be catered to, no matter our gender, orientation, marital status, height, hair color, or make of our automobile.

While the men embracing this new ‘trend’ in self sufficiency are now called gastrosexuals, apparently there are men, like that DJ, who are shocked if not appalled at such outrageous gender role changes. I could call them all cavemen — and in search of gold diggers no less! — and leave it at that, but we do have to face some facts here.

Along with personally maintaining culture lag, these folks are genuinely puzzled.  While their knuckles figuratively drag on the ground, these men stand slack-jawed & wondering — just how are they supposed to be a man and compete for a mate?

The times, they are a-changin’ and they just don’t see where they fit in.

I’d say you shouldn’t worry about them; but quite often these men move from perplexed to frustrated, doggedly refusing to change their beliefs and ways.  I’ve personally see quite a number of them become angry & abusive asshats.  To those of you who face such throwbacks, I say throw him back and keep on fishing.  If he’s not going to change, he’s going to expect you (or try to make you) change to fit his world view, and that’s just no good.

Even if he’s not an abusive asshat, you’re going to end up “taking care of him” because “you’re the woman, that’s why” — and if you at all wish he would become a fully-functioning human being able to care for himself on a daily basis, you’ll end up resenting your role as care-taking-mommy to him.

As an example, I offer up one of the female callers to that radio show who said that she didn’t care about cars. She not only preferred a man who could cook, but one that could do laundry too; she herself had been cooking and doing her boyfriend’s laundry for five years and she “hated it”.  Now I don’t know this woman or her man; but she was resentful enough to call into a radio show and complain — but there she was, doing the cooking and laundry (and who knows what else?) for this guy for five years!

She can’t blame him; she has to blame herself for staying there and doing it.

I hope she’s also got a good job.  That way, one day, she can come home good and exhausted, be faced with making his meal and washing his undies, and just snap — get into her car and drive away.

Of course, the flip side of all of this was the one female caller who said that she just wanted a man who had a car; she was tired of the guy who couldn’t afford the bus pass — and the way she said it, she was talking about those shiftless male gold diggers.  They not only don’t have a car; they refuse to work.  And they expect you to provide all the food — buy the clothes and launder them too.  Get in your car and drive far away from them, because they’ll drive you crazy and drain your accounts.

New Year, New You?

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Ah, the New Year is about to dawn… The time of year when so many people look at themselves and, upon not liking what they see, come up with ridiculous and unreasonable plans they call New Year’s Resolutions.

Loathing the past and fearfully hoping bartering for their futures, New Year’s Resolutions remind me of the Kübler-Ross “Bargaining” stage of grief: “Listen, New Year, if I promise to lose 40 pounds and stop smoking, you agree to give me a promotion (with a salary large enough to afford designer handbags and that clingy little black cocktail dress I’ve been dreaming of) and the man of my dreams.”

Only, the New Year, like the god the grief-stricken barter with, doesn’t reply with an affirmation — at least not the magic wand variety. And that’s what most are really asking for. *Poof* You’re 40 lbs slimmer, 50K richer, and smoke-free in your designer couture with Mr. Right on your arm.

Oh sure, you could get all those things — even simultaneously. But you’ll have to work for each and every one of them. And then work some more to keep them.

No one is going to hand them to you, let alone at the magical hour when the Gregorian calendar adds a digit.

However, if you, like millions of others, want to have your make-over vows coincide with this paper-flipping fresh start, tune in tomorrow because I’ll be outlining my general tips for really making changes.

The Grass Is Always Greener When There’s No Snow

/ Alessia / 1 Comment

A friend of mine, Marta, was complaining that it was more difficult to “meet people” during the holidays — and by “meet people” she specifically stated that she meant, “to have the possibility of a relationship, not drunken groping at an office party or with some friend of your sister’s from college who is also the only single person at her holiday party.”

Marta has a point — but it’s likely not the one she was thinking of.

I agree drunken groping is like the relationship fruitcake of the holiday season; people take it because it’s what they get. (My advice is don’t take it — and certainly don’t re-gift it either!) But Marta, like most single people, wanted her point to be her complaint: that the the holidays are for those who are already in pairs ready to board Noah’s ark.

Not only do I detest whining, I have to say that’s bullshit.

When you are single, lonely and not-lovin’ it, the world seems full of couples. It doesn’t matter what season it is. Here’s a reminder of a lovely spring (or perhaps summer) afternoon at the park:

Couples, couples everywhere.

Not only have you whiny pessimistic folks forgotten that, but you even complain about those bickering &/or unhappy couples — like those on the bench. “At least they have someone to argue with,” you mope. But honestly, now, is that what you want?

So stop looking at (imagining) greener pastures on the other side of the fence; stop looking at the glass as half empty — or even half full. And start planting your own seeds for lush greenery, fill your glass all the way up, if that’s what you want. Create the world you want — it’s much more inviting to others than complaining.

Photo by alev.adil.

The Reality Of Relationship Reality Shows

/ Alessia / Leave a comment

A new relationship show is seeking men and women who are unhappy in their relationships to find a middle ground and win up to $50,000 in cash and prizes!

Are you cheating on your boyfriend/girlfriend and don’t know how to break it to him/her? Do you love your boyfriend/girlfriend but know he/she is not the one? Do you want to date others but he/she wants to take the next step with you? Are you on a completely different page than your partner? We want to help you!

Help you? Are they serious? There isn’t a relationship reality show that’s based on helping people — and yes, I include ‘counselors’ Dr. Drew and Dr. Phil in this. These shows are about making money off humiliating people.

And when they say they are seeking couples who “have amazing personalities” they mean “explosive,” “dumber than a box of rocks,” and anything else they can exploit along with your relationship misery.

I don’t understand the people who go on these shows. They aren’t just putting themselves on display for mockery, airing their own dirty laundry in public, but they dare to do this for their entire family and even friends. Who wants to live as the sister of “that psycho bitch,” the mother of that “asshole with an ego,” or somehow related to that “gullible girl” who is dating the “asshole with an ego” while her best friend, “that psycho bitch,” screws him on the side?

I can’t watch those shows; I just ache for all the sane people they know who must cringe in shame and share in the TV watching public’s blame. So if you go on this casting call, or any other like it, don’t tell me. I don’t want to have to look at you with pity.

Jeebuz, It’s Almost 2009 & We Women Have To Fake Our Virginity

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You don’t want to own this — or even to know about this, but…

If you’re into The Big Lie — no, not faking orgasms, that you’re a Virgin — how about an Artificial Virginity Hymen that leaks fake blood and is supposed to make him feel like the was The First.  ‘Cuz, you know, sex is all about him.

No more worry about losing your virginity. With this product, you can have your first night back anytime. Insert this artificial hymen into your vagina carefully. It will expand a little and make you feel tight. When your lover penetrate, it will ooze out a liquid that look like blood not too much but just the right amount. Add in a few moans and groans, you will pass through undetectable. Its easy to use, clinically proven non-toxic to human and has no side effects, no pain to use and no allergic reaction.

Artificial Virginity Hymen is created from Kyoto, Tapan at 1993. it was first introduced to the locals, then it gets famous and spread to Thailand at 1995 and now avaliable in South East Asia, South Asia and in the Middle East countries.

It is mainly made of natural albumin, medical use inflation element and water-soluble base medicinal preparation which have no side effect.

Insert this artificial hymen into your vagina carefully. It will expand a little and make you feel tight. When your lover penetrate, it will ooze out a liquid that look like blood not too much but just the right amount. Add in a few moans and groan, you will pass through undetectable.

Remember, when you “add in a few moans and groans” that you’re supposed to be faking the loss of your virginity, not pleasure. Don’t screw that up or he might think you like sex. Then he’ll think you’re a slut anyway and all will be for naught. So don’t move your hips or anything else for that matter… Just lie there and think about what the nonsensical gross liquid is doing to the sheets.

The Artificial Virginity Hymen only costs $14.90 — and the price of your soul.

Shut-Up Cosmo: Date Rape Is Not The Victim’s Fault

/ Alessia / 2 Comments

In the latest issue of Bitch magazine (Fall ’08, Issue #41), a scathing article by Jennifer McDaniel, “Don’t Take Advice From Cosmopolitan, Part 877″, blasts Cosmo’s recent (June 2088) article — and related sidebars — on date rape.

The article, featured on the cover with the line “5 Signs a Guy Is Capable of Rape”, is called “How a Date Rapist Works”; the related sidebar pieces are “Reading a Rapist’s Body Language” and “Personality Traits That Make You Vulnerable”.

On the surface you might think this helpful advice — but only if you believe the imperative premise that women are the ones responsible for men’s behavior. As McDaniel writes:

The article, like its gray-rape predecessor, ends up being both insulting to women and victim-blaming to boot. If a rapist could be identified with such easy-to-spot criteria, what woman wouldn’t readily discern a potential assailant and haul ass out of that bar? Rape victims are traumatized enough without being made to feel that their rapists were giving off clear signals that they were too stupid or oblivious to read.

(For the record, the “grey rape” article referred to was published in Cosmo back in September, 2007; you can find that pile of steaming crap here.)

It’s dreck like this that has had me avoiding Cosmopolitan magazine for a long time now. I hope you’ll avoid it too because the only help you’ll find in those slick pages are how to perpetuate the abdication of male accountability.

Does anyone really need that?

While I want women to be safe (and I hope Cosmo does too), it’s absurd, irresponsible, and down-right hurtful to put the blame for male violence on female victims.

As McDaniel said, “It’s not so surprising that Cosmo still seems to think so little of men that it refuses to hold them accountable for their behavior, but couldn’t they try to expect more from women?”

Instead, grab a copy of Bitch — better yet, subscribe. Because Bitch does expect more from both men and women.