Category Archives: Uncategorized

Gender Blender

Friday 20 June 2014

In which the Idiot and the Fool discourse upon our sexual confusion of late.

The Fool on the Hill came down to the Village green the other day. Many a merry flagon did we crack in our college days, the Fool and I. But nobody wants to know him, they can see that he’s just a fool. Anyway, there I was on my usual bench, reading an old issue of Time magazine I got from the trash. The cover photo was of a statuesque black woman, one Laverne Cox by name. The caption alerted readers to a “transgender tipping point,” which it called “America’s Next Civil Rights Frontier.” I had not heard of Ms Cox before. She seems to be a personality of the televised kind and rather nice.  But her present popularity appears to be due chiefly to the fact that she was born a boy and has assumed the persona of a woman. I was baffled. How peropportune, therefore, that the Fool came by just then. He was an anthropology and sociology major back in the day and still keeps current with such developments.

“Fool,” said I, pointing to the Time cover, “can you explain this to me?”

“Idiot,” quoth he, “don’t you remember Christine Jorgensen, back in the 50s, 60s?”

“Oh yeah,” I replied. “The GI who went to Denmark for surgery to make him seem female in certain genital respects. Then he married a guy, right?”

“Well, it’s the same with this Laverne Cox. As a boy, he always felt like a girl, so he had some accommodations made and here she is, a Time icon. She’s dating a guy now. And you know about that dude in Massachusetts, what’s his name, Kosilek, who strangled his wife when she caught him wearing her dress? Now he’s in prison demanding the state pay for the same kind of surgery, and a judge has decided that was okay. After the operation he’s gonna go to a women’s prison. That’ll be interesting. Same situation with that Army leaker Brad-, er, Chelsea Manning. Curious last name, in the circumstances. Kinda like ‘Cox.’ Just sayin’.”

“Haw haw. So, Fool, are these guys just transvestites, like Sissy back in Wyoming or like the lumberjack in Monty Python? Or is there more to it?”

“You’re confused, my friend. Sissy’s a married guy with grown kids and does guy stuff. He just likes women’s clothes. Those other people are, like, girls born in guy bodies, so they say, and dress accordingly. And by the way, it goes vice versa too.”

“Hmmm. We’ll get back to that. So transvestites aren’t homosexuals, then?”

“Not necessarily, but it’s complicated. You saw Rocky Horror Picture Show, right? Remember Frank N. Furter, the sweet transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania? He didn’t have any operation but he went both ways somehow, sexually speaking. Or how about that androgyne in The Crying Game, Jaye Edgar Hoover, whatever? Dressed and acted like a girl but liked guys?”

Jaye Davidson, Fool. Hoover was the G-Man with the tommy gun. And come to think of it, they say Hoover was a bit of the same — in private. Awkward. Okay, so, if you are a guy but feel and dress like a girl and are attracted to guys, does that make you a transvestite gay? Or are you then heterosexual?”

“This is what comes from reading too much Aristotle back in school, Idiot; you’re hung up on categories and hierarchies. Don’t you recall Prof. Von Drake‘s lecture on the berdaches, like Little Horse in Little Big Man? They call them ‘two-spirit’ now, though I’ve always liked the term ‘liminal.’ Things are more complicated now. You’ve seen Facebook’s new list of fifty — and growing — customized sexual identities, haven’t you?”

“I don’t do Facebook.”

“Yeah, I know, but you are aware that there is this social medium on the Internet called Facebook, and that people use this medium to make virtual friendships with other people, some of whom they only know via Facebook, right?”

“Okay, fine. So what’s with the identities?”

“Well, to advertise yourself and to look for people you might have things in common with, you give certain information about who you are. And since sex and gender are basic to who we are, and since the binary choices ‘man’ and ‘woman’ don’t really express all the nuance of people like Laverne Cox, some people at Facebook put up this list of fine-tuned options so that people could advertise themselves more accurately and not be limited at the male-female node. It breaks down like this: “sex” is your set of physical characteristics; your “gender” is who or what you yourself feel that you are and how you dress and act; and your sexual attraction to other people is just that. I forget my statistics, but you can imagine the possible combinations. Just keep in mind, though, that somebody might find any one of these terms ‘offensive’, that being now a high crime against humanity. For example, you could describe yourself as a “BDSM male lesbian polyamorist.”

“I don’t even wanna know. Reminds me of What’s My Perversion? But why stop at 50-some? I mean, in theory, every individual could have his/her/its own self-defined custom gender/sexuality/attraction, correct? Talk about categories. And what’s the point, anyway? It doesn’t help us make sense of anything, just seems needlessly and endlessly confusing.”

“That is the point, Idiot, definitional destruction, leading to the obliteration of gender as a viable concept or meaningful term. It’s similar to what’s happening with altered definitions of marriage, the object being to define marriage out of use, except maybe as metaphor.”

“Fool, I still don’t get it. Say a male person feels that he’s a woman, gets the operations, injections, whatever. Now say there’s a female person who feels that she’s a man, and does the same on her side. Okay, so these two people meet and are attracted to each other and commingle. Are they a heterosexual couple? How can any of this turn out well?”

“We are living, my boon companion, in the Age of the Outcast Hero, when honor, esteem, and value flow not to the normal — which is now a Very Bad Word, by the way –, not to the successful or the prosperous, but to the marginal, the oppressed, the frail and the damaged. These special terms admit such a person to the status of disadvantage and entitle them to vindication. In their view all definitions of society and of social relationships must oppress someone at all times. Maybe another manifestation of Lenin‘s ‘kto kogo’, I don’t know. All this sexual expressionism seems to be weaponry in a social revolution. Laverne Cox et al. are now leading the charge on this ‘civil rights frontier’ you’ve been reading about.”

“Sort of like Stan the insurrectionist in The Life of Brian, the guy who wants to become a woman named Loretta and have babies? Francis said that this was symbolic of their group’s struggle against oppression and the leader Reg said it was ‘symbolic of his struggle against reality’. That was good.”

“Well, now you’re being judgmental, Idiot, and that is no longer permissible. See, when you make judgments, you are appealing to a set of norms and assuming that everyone else adheres to those norms. But as I just said, all norms are part of a system of oppression since they were established by oppressors to maintain their power and status. Norms can’t help but marginalize someone. Therefore to judge is to oppress. So watch yourself, buddy.”

“Wow. I always thought that a system of norms and, yes, judgment was a de facto definition of society, since we can’t get along without them. So these people really want to destroy society itself? Are they anarchists, really?”

“Maybe. I think they believe that anarchy is preferable to society. Like the Cyclopes, they want to live entirely individually, without society, laws or customs.”

“If that’s what they really want, I’m worried. Out of every anarchic state arises a tyrant. You know that as well as I do.”

“I do indeed, my friend. But now I see the sun going down. Time to get back up the Hill. To be continued.”

“To be continued, my good friend, and thank you for your insight.”

As the Fool left the Village green, I lay down on my bench and pondered these dark mysteries.




Reader discretion is advised.

Friday 13 June 2014

Puzzled reader I. P. Freely has asked the Viliage Idiot to explain these so-called “trigger warnings” that seem to be showing up everywhere of late. Did something happen with Roy Rogers’ steed? he asks. Or is it some new concealed carry restriction? To the best of his limited abilities, the Idiot herein responds.

Well, Mr Freely, you have no doubt also observed a parallel phenomenon: the allergy alarums now ubiquitous everywhere that food is bought, sold, or served. The formula is “Please alert your waiter/a member of our staff if you or anyone in your party has a food allergy.” How so many among us have suddenly become mortally allergic to just about everything comestible is a mystery that must await its own solution. But I think you can easily guess that the purpose of such advertisements is to be legally prophylactic in the case of a lawsuit: “We warned you!”

And it seems we are becoming even more allergic to words (spoken or written) and to images (still or moving) that have unpleasant effects on our emotions. There is a quasi-medical basis to this, it appears. In psychology a “trigger” is any action or sensation that can awaken a painful memory of some trauma such as war, rape, or abuse. It seems part of the Post Traumatic Stress condition. Like the allergy notices, a trigger warning’s purpose is to prevent an undesirable reaction to something heard, read, or viewed. But since these triggers could be infinite in number and variety, due to the infinite variety of human experience, it is manifestly unfeasible to warn everyone of every possible instance. It is also absurd, since a warning itself could just as well trigger an unhappy memory as any material content.

Such practical considerations have not troubled the righteous gang of the hypersensitive, who follow a victimist path of reasoning to claim the status of “disability.” Of course, since Bush ’41 signed the Americans With Disabilities Act (1990), that term has suffered definitional metastasis. Once the manifold unhappinesses of life are officially classified as disadvantages, there will be no end of rent-seeking demands for rights and privileges and beneficent state involvement in the lives of citizens. And, as with allergies, this will be a growth area for attorneys.

The trigger warnings you’ve been reading about of late, I. P., are monitory prefaces to syllabuses for college courses. Reading and discussing the Iliad, for example, could awaken painful memories of battle among students who are combat veterans. The Merchant of Venice contains anti-Semitic language, and so on. Students of a more delicate nature are driving this innovation forward. They imagine themselves champions of the disabled, marginalized, oppressed and victimized. Indeed, there is a whole Tumblr “community” of such persons at the charmingly-named site “Fuck Yeah, Trigger Warnings.” Some professors, especially those of the feminist/queer camp, find this wholly appropriate, while others are anxious about possible limitations on course expectations and free speech.

A healthy (in the Idiot’s view) satire has also begun. My good friends at the National Association of Scholars, for example, have set up a contest for the most humorous trigger warnings to classic literature and film. But will this ridicule be enough to halt the movement’s progress? One certainly hopes so. But two forces are poised to take maximum advantage of the trend: the spokespersons of political correctness, and Islamofascists, both of whom have common tyrannical inclinations.

For it is a very short step from alerting students to upcoming scenes of the violence and cruelty of which humankind is so capable to proactively banning any topic that might offend the sensibilities of a tender few. We are talking here not of the truly offensive but of Things One Does Not Like. Indeed, in our culture of comfort, the belief is now widespread among high school and college students that one has a legal right not to be offended by others, even if the offending party has been dead for centuries. This puts quite a veto power in the hands of the emotionally anointed.

Islamofascists will be delighted by this opportunity to forbid any uncomplimentary references to the Religion of Peace and its Prophet, of course. Their modus operandi is well-known by now. Professors who make such a mistake as to assign The Satanic Verses, say, or teach the history of Islam or of Israeli-Palestinian conflict according to actual known facts, will soon find themselves accused of “hate speech” and named as tortfeasors and made the objects of vexatious litigation.

That’s as much as the Idiot has to say for the moment, Mr Freely, but who knows where this might go?  Thank you for writing, and, as always, I certainly hope I have caused no offense.


Moderate and Radical

Monday 2 June 2014

Yesterday’s New York Times ran a N. Y./Region piece by Sharon Otterman on the National September 11 Memorial Museum.  The article concerns various discontents with how Al Qaeda and terrorism are represented in a short film documentary there. The chief complaint of visitors, reports the Times, is that there is insufficient distinction made in the film and Museum between Islam and jihadist violence. “Most worrisome, some said they thought a Muslim might feel uncomfortable visiting.” A couple visiting from Australia “worried” that “Muslims would not feel welcome.” Of course, emotional comfort is now our highest criterion in so many areas of public life.

On a different angle, an inter-faith panel, brought together by the good Mr Peter B. Gudaitis, holds that using such epithets as “Islamist” and “jihadists” actually plays to the advantage of our bandana-wrapped AK-47-toting suicidal maniac friends. It “could lead people to believe that the group’s violent, radical beliefs were indicative of the wider religion.” Mr Gudaitis prefers the phrase “Muslim extremists.” Says Mr Adrian Cabreros of San Francisco, “[The Museum’s presentation] kind of gives Islam a bad vibe.” Indeed. As do other facts.

Mr Ron Speedbey, a retired NYC cop from Queens, and his friend Mr Ben Schwecke, a New York disabled veteran, felt that “[t]he exhibits they did see ‘did not really make clear that this is a fringe organization that really has corrupted much of the Quran.” Mr Schwecke made the helpful suggestion “that the museum should find a local imam and let him do a brief film for the museum ‘about this is who Muslims really are.'”

On the other hand, Ms Debra Burlingame, whose brother was a pilot murdered in those attacks, and who is on the Museum board and “helped design museum programming even though she holds controversial views about Islam,” has a somewhat different perspective. She feels quite strongly that Islam is a transnational threat and that our government is putting us all at risk by playing nicey-nice with Islam. When Megyn Kelly of Fox News proposed to Ms Burlingame that her opinions might cause her to be considered an “Islamophobe,” Ms Burlingame accepted the epithet: “‘I am hard pressed to deny it,’ she responded. ‘There’s no such thing as an irrational fear of Islam or Muslims when we know that virtually 80 percent of terror attacks in the world are committed by radical Muslims.’” (I concur, though her usage is unclear. The -phobe suffix usually does indicate a psychologically morbid fear, if not an irrational one.)

For thoughts and words such as these, Ms Burlingame does not merit the approval of one Richard Idriss, an Arab-American debate coach from Berkeley. He seems fond of cats, which I do approve. Anyway, Mr Idriss seems to be an adherent of the Council on American-Islamic Relations, those fine folks who recently got Ayaan Hirsi Ali disinvited from a commencement speech at Brandeis. And he uses their favorite “debate” strategies: claim that the crime of disagreement is “hate speech” and get it banned via petitions and lawsuits. He has a petition going to remove Ms Burlingame from her position on the Museum board. This, therefore, is “moderate” Islam for you: Shut Up, Infidel!

Just one question: in the absence of a “moderate” Islam, would radical, violent Islamism exist in the first place, or continue to exist, spread, and thrive in the second? As good debate coaches know, that’s a rhetorical question. We will all be better off to share Ms Burlingame’s justified and cautious skepticism rational fear, and the 9/11 Memorial should remind us all of the continuing need to do so.

Got privilege, honky boy?

Wednesday 14 May

When I lived in Denver one of the two papers there had a very funny food critic named John Kessler. He writes for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution now. One day John put in his column a photo taken at the meat and sausage counter of a local supermarket. It was of a sign advertising Cooked White Brats.  John’s caption to the picture: “They finally found a use for them.”

Mr Stephen Parkhurst has found an even better use for them. He makes hipster videos for publication on YouTube. Last September he issued one with actors as snarky Millennials commenting on their white privilege, complimenting (Irony Alert!) us Boomers for all the stupid stuff we did, and whinging about the present state of things in America, for which they, tender darlings, are now taking all the blame. It’s hard to tell if it’s serious or parody, which, one is given to understand, is all part of the fun. Mr Parkhurst replied to a commenter that the vid, while tongue-in-cheek, was seriously meant.

Well, just last week a sequel appeared, “White Guys: We Suck and We’re Sorry.” Maybe it was in response to Tal Fortgang’s recent outburst at Princeton. It features a half-dozen milquetoast pantywaists who, as they brag about their white male privileges, retardedly recognize the terrible and tragic truth. They verbally self-flagellate and confess their sins. These guys are whipped already; they might as well win a few points by abject proskynesis. They want a darn good spanking, please. “Don’t cut us any slack,” says one. Another closes with “We’re terrible people.”

Haw haw haw, made ya think, right?

If you, dear reader, want to “check your privilege,” you can go to a White Privilege Convention for discipline. Charlotte Allen wrote about last year’s conference here.  If you can’t attend, you can always buy a helpful instructional dvd for a hundred bucks, “a marvelous introduction to the topic.” If you’re a white guy, you deleterious slab of undeserved Western advantages, the WPC might even have some intensive training especially for you.

If you’re unsure how privileged you are, and thus how much treatment you need, you can take a quick MyPrivilege test on-line right here! I proudly report that I score 74/100, “Quite Privileged.” And if you’re still not clear on the concept, go right to the source, Peggy McIntosh. Nice lady, Peggy.  She’s got a list of 46 examples of White (mostly male) Privilege, very helpful.

But if you’re still in possession of a normal supply of androgens, men, buck up. In book 12 of the Iliad, Sarpedon and Glaucus, two Lycian chieftains who have recently come as allies of the Trojans, hesitate to join a battle at the Greek palisade. Sarpedon delivers a quick motivational speech to his friend: “Hey, how come we have all the best food and possessions? Why do our people honor and look up to us? It’s because, when there’s fighting to be done, we don’t hang back; no, we’re right on the front line, risking our lives in the thick of battle. We might die, but at least we’ll have earned the advantages and prestige we enjoy.” Sarpedon is a son of Zeus. Talk about privilege. Oh, he gets killed by Achilles’ buddy Patroclus not long after this.

Now, you don’t have to buy a whole package of Homeric ethics to get the message here: risk, sacrifice, and hard work justify preeminence and privilege. It’s an ancient core Western value, especially for men. It is bred in our bones to strive to achieve precisely to enjoy the benefits that result from our exertions and risk — not to apologize for them.

Why should not old men be mad?

Sunday 11 May 2014

Gilford, New Hampshire, 5 May 2014. At a school board meeting open to the public, one William Baer, attorney and recent immigrant from New Jersey, arose to object to a novel that his daughter’s 9th grade English class was required to read. This literary gem, Nineteen Minutes, was published in 2007 by Jodi Picoult, Long Island native, Granite State transplant, and a popular writer of coming-of-age and trendy, edgy family issues stories. The novel seems to center around a school shooting incident. There’s also bullying, gay-bashing, mean teen cliques, parent-child drama, violent video game addiction, murder, suicide – all the good stuff. I haven’t read it.

But that’s not what lit Mr Baer’s fuse. No, it was a passage in which two teens have sex in the date-rape style: “She could feel his erection, hot against her stomach. …  ‘Yeah,’ he groaned, and he pushed her thighs apart. And then suddenly Matt was inside her, pumping her so hard that she scooted backward on the carpet, burning the backs of her legs. … Semen, sticky and hot, pooled on the carpet beneath her.”  Classic stuff, that. And there’s more! The girl gets pregnant, considers abortion, has a miscarriage, commits murder, goes to prison, etc. 

Anyway, Mr Baer asked the Superintendent, one Mr Hemingway, to read the passage out loud. Ms Sue Allen, prim School Board chairperson, put the kibosh on that by limiting public comments to two minutes, prohibiting anyone from speaking a second time, and refusing to allow Board members to read aloud any material submitted at the meeting. She must have known something was up. When another parent protested that Mr Baer and others who shared his antiquated views would become censorious and dictatorial if allowed their way, Mr Baer responded to the absurdity of the remark with appropriate ridicule. A Board official asked him to be respectful, to whom he replied, “Like you’re respectful of my daughter, right? And my children?” In making these and other animadversions he exceeded Gilford parliamentary rules.

So a local police lieutenant then clapped the perp in manacles and hauled him off to the calaboose, right in front of his daughter Marina. Ms Baer, an icon of poise and controlled outrage, then returned to the meeting, respectfully asked to speak, and said the following:  “I just watched my father get arrested because he broke the two-minute rule at a board of education meeting. This just shows you resort to force at the first turn of conflict and I’m appalled. I don’t trust you. I haven’t. I honestly don’t feel safe around you people.” Without Terence’s irony, Domi habuit unde disceret (She had at home an example from which to learn).

Gilford HS freshmen have been assigned this trash since its publication, always with an opt-out notice for parents. Except they forgot to send the notice out this year. The Board is now revising its policies. But they and the Principal defend Nineteen Minutes for its “thematic importance.” And they “apologize for the discomfort of those impacted.” Oh, okay, then. As long as everyone’s comfortable. Fox News’ Todd Starnes asked Mr Hemingway about the quality of the work, to which the Principal replied “I’m not going to make a decision on pornographic material.” Ms Picoult claims that this and the rest of her oeuvre help parents and children engage in meaningful conversations. Or something.  She has an M. A. in Education from Harvard and she taught English in school for a year or two, so it’s all good.

Only a few miles north of Gilford is Squam Lake, where much of the 1981 movie On Golden Pond was shot. In that film a cynical brat named Billy Ray (played by Doug McKeon), about the same age as Marina Baer, is forced to live for a summer month with Norman, a crabby old retired professor, and his wife (Henry Fonda and Katherine Hepburn, respectively), while Hanoi Jane, playing Norman’s estranged daughter Chelsea, and Dabney Coleman, as Bill Ray the divorced dentist dad, dump the kid there to run off to Europe and get married. In one memorable scene Norman asks Billy Ray what he normally does to keep himself occupied.  The kid tells him that he likes to “suck face” with girls.  Old Norman bosses him upstairs to read Treasure Island. This of course is a metaphor for the restorative recovery of innocence — through good books —  in a jaded, soulless, sensually-addicted generation. It works for Billy Ray and for Norman also.  But it’s also a joke: even in 1981 this was yearning for a vanished world. No free “empowering” internet porn, no thematically important porno-pop novels then.

We’re much more sophisticated now, thanks to cool writers like J. Picoult. Now we have the honorable members of a School Board in a Rockwellian New England village arresting a man for doing his moral human duty as a father to protect his virtuous daughter from temptation and evil delivered by the State. Tell me, why should not old men be mad?



say that I am a man that love my own opinions

Sunday 4 May 2014

Herein, kind reader, will you find my desultory thoughts, should you wish to know them, mostly on such matters as education, American political economy, the state of the family, Diversity and Progressivism, along with an occasional book review. Once an oilfield truck driver in the Rocky Mountains, later a scholar and teacher of Latin and Greek classics, for over twenty years a true-blue liberal Democrat, I have come to see things differently and, I hope, more truly. I begin this journal to clarify my own thoughts, to hone my writing, and to communicate with my fellow man.  Oh, yeah: and to accommodate my vanity.