The name of my next band is ... Hankyfist?
Would You Like an Olive With Your Turducken?
Mic check.
I mean, card check.
Bells said:
On the one hand, the continued implication that women are either too irresponsible, stupid or incapable of making such decisions that men should be the ones making it for her.
We do have a choice, you know. Nobody says we have to take this shit seriously. Then again, I suppose that would be easier if some folks weren't so fervently dedicated to these arguments.
Thus, since some of the rhetoric really is scraping the bottom of the barrel, we might note that there
are parts we can leave to the men. They can do their part to prevent abortion by not having sex with women unless they are undertaking a deliberate and mutually consensual reproductive endeavor together.
Really, the solution for any guy who thinks a woman shouldn't have an abortion is that he shouldn't risk seeding a pregnancy.
Maybe we can get men to wear tags when they go cruising for chicks. Something like, "Breeder" and "Vaz". And if a Vaz knocks up a woman, he goes to prison for fraud and civil rights violations.
And if such explicit tags undermine men's emotional security, phuck, they can always take notes from the gays.
Perusing the ad in the Desert Daily Guide, I discover that tonight the Tool Shed is sponsoring an "RHSD — Red Hankies Sand (sic) Diego — Beverage Benefit". Those unfamiliar with the gay tradition of colored hankies may not be aware that men who sport red hankies dangling from the rear pockets of their jeans are people who receive sexual gratification through a fist shoved up an anus. If the hanky is worn on the left side, the person identifies as the dominant partner; if the hankie is placed on the right side, the person is receptive. I do not gravitate toward this particular sexual practice, and having seen it performed I cannot explain its attraction to anyone. I do find it somewhat curious that a Palm Springs bar is sponsoring a "Beverage Benefit" for men from "Sand" Diego who want to place their fists up men's anuses. Do the proceeds go toward towels and latex gloves? Is there a reserve fund for emergency proctology? In any case, the benefit tonight is from 7 to 10 p.m. I will be elsewhere.
The same full-page ad contains the bar's weekly calendar and it includes a deejay who spins retro records and remixes Friday through Sunday evenings. Sunday mornings from 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. there is "Church with the Church Lady" — a hosted gathering for those who have partied all night and haven't had enough. On Friday evenings, in addition to the deejay spinning the hits of yesteryear, the Tool Shed proudly announces there will be a "Boot Pig on Duty."
Thursday evenings there is a pool tournament; Saturday afternoons at the Tool Shed are reserved for guys who want to drink brewskies while wearing black engineer boots and black leather boxer shorts; and Wednesdays from 9 p.m. are known as "Wet Wednesdays." The advertisement below the Wednesday night headline suggests, "Wear your yellow hanky!" Hanky placement for dominant and submissive positions follows the methodology previously described, but in this case the desired activity of the hanky-wearer involves urination. You can choose to piss or be pissed upon and devotees of this practice are known colloquially as "golden shower queens," hence the Tool Shed's sponsorship of "Wet Wednesdays." God I love a parade.
(Julian, 42-43)
I always figured neckties had some sort of code to them, but, alas, no. Still, maybe a lot of all this confusion about gender relations and sex-based empowerment might be confused if the heterosexuals took some time to figure out who's zoomin' who and what
before the horizontal rally.
And, you know, that might work.
Women wearing red might mean if you knock 'em up, they'll keep the pregnancy. Those in blue would terminate. Men in white would announce their virility. Men in green advertise the safety of their vasectomy. There is, of course, no suitable color for the rapists, but maybe we could talk those guys into wearing pink.
____________________
Notes:
Julian, Robert. Postcards From Palm Springs ... a Memoir. Raleigh: Lulu, 2007.