Showing posts with label disgust. Show all posts
Showing posts with label disgust. Show all posts

Sunday, April 29, 2012

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





Monday, August 18, 2008

Funny and Not

I'm wondering about all these Adsense type things that I have set up on this site. Right now they're all advertising products to eliminate excessive armpit odor. Come now--where in the purple fuck do I mention armpit odor on this site? Could it be that they can smell me from here? I've been having to shower at work. My shower isn't working. The one in my son's room is still good, but I don't feel right about going in there to shower. So sometimes, admissibly, it's a few days between. Hell, we can't all have the lap of luxury. I can't afford to get the shower fixed. And the last couple of nights I was too tired to go into work in time to get a shower. So I guess I ain't exactly a field of lilies right now. Too fucking bad.
I was mentioning in the last post about my friend's concern over me losing the magical aspect of myself and feeling helpless because even he in all his ethereal ghostliness can't give it back to me. It's exhaustion, stress, pure and simple, and a feeling of giving up on everything because shit has just never worked my way. I have to go for orientation to the nursing program tomorrow, something I really don't want to do. The only reason I'm getting my nursing license is because everything costs so god damn much and I need to be able to make more money. I have no delusions of being Florence Fucking Nightingale. I work with the elderly and unlike some people I treat them with respect rather than condescension. There's some of them who are sour, unpleasant old so and so's, but for the most part, they're just people. I figure, if you've made it to 80 or 90 years old, the least people can do is treat you with respect. Age in this society is seen as something to have disdain for and I think that's wrong. You shouldn't have disdain for anyone based on age, gender, or race. Anybody who disagrees with me can go suck an exhaust pipe. I don't have any tolerance for racism, sexism, ageism, or homophobia.
I have the greatest of respect for caregivers, but I just don't feel like it's my path. I always wanted to work in the arts: writing, acting, drawing cartoons, something. But it's never come together. I feel like I, the real me, what I wanted to be and should be, is trapped in a dead body that refuses to lie down. I never became. And it causes serious distress.
I feel really angry with myself for this. In the past I would have cut myself to bring the poison to the outside. Its counterproductive. I don't do it any more. But I am highly dissatisfied. Why the fuck does the Universe give skills, talents, gifts, whatever to a person and then say "well, fucker, you're on your own. Here's the creek and you ain't got no paddle."
Sometimes I think the powers that be are just straight up sadistic. And for that I fart in their general direction. Maybe they'll send me some of that stuff for excessive sweat, and some of those charcoal liners for excessive gas. Not that I actually have either--at least not at the moment. Just that it would be about what I'd reckon on from the Powers that Be. A break certainly doesn't seem to be "in the cards."