Your Word of the Day: Objectification

I need to start channeling Lemmy. Even though he's still alive. I'd probably better ask his permission first, though.

OBJECTIFICATION

to present as an object, especially of sight, touch, or other physical sense; make objective; externalize.

Leave it to Lemmy to say perfectly what I've been trying to find the words for during the past five years. I think I'll just have him do my writing from now on. It would turn out so much cooler.

In this interview, which you should, of course, read, Lemmy laid it on the line. And I jumped up and down and screamed "Yes! Can I get an A-fucking-men in here?"

And then I proceeded to feel like a bit of an ass. Because this is what I've been trying to impart all along and didn't know how. Of course Lemmy is talking about the objectification of women in rock and I'm talking about the objectification of one person (man) in particular, but we'll get to that in just a moment. First, here's Lemmy.

Punk News:

You're known as a great lover of women, but you're also known as a great lover of women in rock music. You've been very vocal of your support of Joan Jett, Skin of Skunk Anansie, and many others. In punk rock, it seems there is a disconnect between appreciating a woman's talents and appreciating her attractiveness. Can one appreciate a female musician's attractiveness without objectifying her?

Lemmy:

  Well, why the fuck can't you do it? Is that impossible? There are certainly people who have an axe to grind. Someone might be bitching about it, but I don't care. I never objectified women. I've always been honest. I treat people as I expect to be treated. Women, they're the same as me with tits. If they want to be crazy, well that's all right because I'm a little crazy myself, sometimes. If they want to play rock music, that's great, because I like to play rock music, too. You should treat people the way you like to be treated. If it's good art, then it's good art. Shit, I like women.

So, what does this have to do with a certain attitude by a certain subset of people regarding a certain person? (Who is not Lemmy, for those late-comers to the party.)

The fact that they're dehumanizing the guy--reducing him to an object of lust, rather than seeing him as a multifaceted individual: talented, troubled, intelligent, tragic, inquisitive, clever--all of those things that he was are brushed by the wayside because certain women saw the fellow as fuck-worthy.

And it drives me fucking ape shit that these women are that damn shallow--particularly regarding a person whose life was extremely troubled and ended in a tragic and violent fashion.

It's not that I'm saying one can't recognize that the guy was physically attractive. But have a little fucking respect!

The following narrative does not bother me. It is a paraphrase of what one person, with whom I'm still in occasional contact, said.

"When I was reading the book (The Unholy Tome That Shall Not Be Mentioned) I realized that his fate was inevitable. It was tragic and I wanted somehow to stop it from happening. He was so bright and so talented, and hell, he was a good-looking bloke, but whatever, that really makes no difference in the matter. It was a horrible, sad end to an unhappy life. It all seems such a waste."

Absolutely. Spot on, too right, well said, you'll get no argument from me.

But conversely, there were those who brought the pervy dungeon fantasies, the pervy graveyard fantasies, the pervy mortuary fantasies, the pervy mausoleum fantasies, the pervy church fantasies, the pervy black mass fantasies, and I developed this nasty tic in my eye reading so much poorly written porn. But until now, I had no words for why said poorly written porn bothered me so much. Yes, it was in poor taste, and I sure as hell would never email a complete stranger telling them the fantasies I was having about some dude, especially one who was no longer in the world. But I had no explanation for my revulsion that made good sense, until now.

It bothers the fuck out of me that these women were objectifying someone who had such a troubled life.

He was more than his looks, for fuck's sake.

He was also more than his talent as a writer and performer.

He was a human being.

He deserves better than to be treated as if his emotions and experiences are meaningless.

So now I finally have the words.

Thanks, Lemmy.

Thus, I leave you all with this. Lemmy also talks about this song in the Punk News interview. Enjoy!

One more time, with lyrics!

Lyrics | Motorhead lyrics - Orgasmatron lyrics

Hindsight is Stupid

This post may be a little more humorous, though I am still misanthropic and curmudgeony. So if for some reason you came here looking for fluffy bunnies and unicorns farting rainbows, well, sorry.

It occurs to me that I have reason to be disgusted with myself for being so desperate that I fell for flattery and thus put myself among disgenuous people who cared not a whit about how their behavior might hurt me, so long as they got what they wanted.

The detractors are in a category unto themselves, and it's pretty straightforward. "U suck and aren't "trve" evil, black, metal, death-obsessed, what the fuck ever. And I hate U. And U suck. So there!"

Well, I suck. That's pretty unflattering. But it's also pretty much right to the point. These people don't like me. I'd rather be straight up disliked than to have people pretending to like me to get something out of me. Oh sure, some of these people may have actually convinced themselves that they did like me. But they "liked" me because I held the key to His Nibs. Truth was, they couldn't have given a fart in a category 5 hurricane about me.

Still, when you've got people gushing over your first-ever published story and you're the kind of person who tends to be desperate for approval because you've been misunderstood for your entire life, you tend to put on blinders. It's awful that I was so starved for love that I fell for this shit.

"Lily, you're wonderful, this is the best story ever!"

Yeah...if your name is Lily and you've written a story, tell me that wouldn't make your heart (and ego) swell up 666 sizes too big!

But it's a sham. You look at the Devil card, and there it is. Lies and flattery. And I became a captive of that flattery. I would have done anything to get more of it.

Except there was a little part of me that was screaming "no, this is fucking WRONG!"

It was glamour, a siren song, a spell.

None of this wonderfulness had either Jack or Shit to do with me, or with what I'd written.

I could have plagiarized a manual on the care and maintenance of septic tanks and tacked onto the end "His Nibs says 'Don't forget to wipe your ass, Folks,'" and these types would have been as twitterpated as fans of both Twilight and Justin Bieber upon learning that Biebs was going to do the soundtrack for the next Twilight movie.

Nah...my writing skills, such as they may be, hadn't a damn thing to do with it. These individuals are, as one of the few real friends I made out of this whole mess said, "a flock of Find a Grave graspers."

I love this. Find a Grave graspers. Genius! And absolutely right.

These are dissatisfied women of various ages searching for the Demon Lover. Like Jim Morrison, His Nibs fills the bill. He's handsome, mysterious, brooding, Byronian, gives an air of danger and divine madness, and died young so he will always be all of those things.

I'm still torn about how I feel regarding having written the book. On one hand, I did make a handful of true friends that I still keep in touch with more or less. On the other hand I'm still recovering from the wounds I received upon realizing several ugly truths.

Most people are not open-minded, most are not kind, and most do not have the best interests of anyone but themselves in mind. There are a few shitty people (trolls) who really and truly enjoy hurting others. There are a handful of genuine good souls who are worth all the treasure the Earth has to give and then some.

Most, however, are not deliberately malicioius. They are simply self-absorbed. They don't give much thought to the consequences of their actions. They don't care who their actions hurt, so long as they get what they want.

I have come to the conclusion that the majority of people are neither good nor evil, just selfish.

In some ways, I'm glad I wrote the book.

But in other ways, I don't think I'll ever get over the trauma of dealing with the detractors and graspers.