Heads up! Art Week starts on Monday

Published by Jill on June 19, 2010. 79 Comments

Now that Science Week is over [and what did we learn? That you can't get smart without oppressin' somebody somewhere, that's what. Which is hardly surprising, since (as I've been gently, kindly, and with the patience of Job trying to explain the Internet for the last 5 years) patriarchy isn't just some vague academic concept invented by fat chicks who can't get laid, it's the world's most popular world order, and it's actually predicated on oppression, and its sphere of influence is infinite, therefore science can't exist outside it, therefore revolution is the only solution, blah, yadda, etc] it’s time to focus the jaundiced lens of blaming scrutiny on Art.

Although if I might just make one last observation: the idea of the “natural” world as separate from human culture? Nope.

Let me ask you this. At what point does human culture depart from the Natural? With the invention of computers? TV? Cars? The cotton gin? Electricity? Taco stands? Gunpowder? The printing press? Written language? Shoes? Crop cultivation? Yurts? The wheel? Did humans become unnatural when the good old days of picturesque, endless agrarian toil, feudal oppression, unchecked disease, ignorance, and death from dysentery at 35 turned into the bad new days of urban post-industrial capitalism where a pound of fair-trade organic coffee costs $12.99 and your email inbox is full of spam?

Pah. Everything humans do, or have ever done, is “natural.” We can’t do anything else. The idea that modern culture is un-natural is nostalgic and inaccurate. Living off the grid in a yurt is “good” in some absolute sense, whereas driving an SUV from a suburban bungalow to the stripmall is “bad”? Come on. This a romantic, but misguided view. The cosmic reaction to a 20′ Ford Expedition is the same as to a sanctimonious Prius: bupkis. The universe doesn’t give a fuck about you or your lifestyle choices. It doesn’t give a fuck about the economy, oil spills, or civil unrest in Blargistan. It doesn’t give a fuck about katydids. Eventually our whole planet will be erased from space, and the galaxy won’t bat an eye. The inevitable extinction of our species (imminent, according to research here at Spinster Laboratories) via the exhaustion of available resources is as natural as a fresh-picked peach. As Andre 3000 and other dude philosophers have observed, nothing is forever.

Yes, yes, when people use the word ‘natural’ what they really mean is ‘free of chemical additives’ and maybe some of the assorted hippie concepts that go with that narrative. Barter economies, home furnishings made from bamboo, vegan cookbooks, living in the country. While I would argue that it is just as natural for people to put chemical additives in things as it is to not put chemical additives in things, I admit that it is appealing to fantasize that the source of human misery is an unnatural isolation from Nature, and that doing yoga on an organic rubber mat and drinking organic spinach smoothies will put me back in sync with the cosmos.

But alas, I’m already in sync with the cosmos, and so are you. In other words, this is it. This is what we’ve become, and this is what we get. Which is not to say that a person can’t fantasize about a verdant paradise full of songbirds and polar bears and Bengal tigers, untouched by human influence. Only, that world isn’t a world we could actually live in. The minute you add “contented children, lazy from a carefree day at the swimming hole, eating ripe plums on the porch at sunset” to that scenario, natural history changes, and it’s right back to our scorched-earth dystopia. Our giant brains use up resources, it’s as simple as that.

As long as we’re still here, though, we might as well try to make the best of it. Which is why I say bring on the cyborg fetus incubators, and Art Week.

In my enthusiasm for the project at hand, I Googled “women art.” Amazon came back with this result:

Women, Art, and Society by Whitney Chadwick , which discusses women artists through the ages and how they came to be given the heave-ho by the keepers of the Great Art Canon. What’s this doing here?

Gifted to Lead: The Art of Leading as a Woman in the Church by Nancy Beach. “Nancy desires that women will fully engage in the dangerous and thrilling adventure of using their leadership gifts to advance the kingdom of God. The path won’t be easy . . . but God will never leave you alone. ” Now this is more like it.

The Best Things in Life are Topless (Woman and Beer) Art Poster Print by Poster Revolution. From the Home & Garden section! Art for the people! Now we’re getting to the crux of the matter. Customers who viewed this item also viewed posters with images of beers squished between women’s breasts and thighs, along with about 30,672 other pornographic posters featuring beer as a subtle metaphor for rape.

Cheap Monday The Tight Jean in Art, Denim for Women. Price, $64. Art in this case is a color. Customers who bought art-colored tight jeans from Amazon also bought “Sexy Metallic Stretch Booty Shorts” and “Sexy Black Rubber Look Mini Skirt.” Awesome.

Also, Salvador Dali mousepad, featuring “Woman Sleeping in A Landscape.” More awesome. Why not get one for Dad? He’ll enjoy rolling his mouse over this charming painting of a naked woman with her skull bashed in, brains hanging out, wrist chained to a dead tree, because it is beautiful and important, having been painted by a 20th Century Master.

Well, what’re you waiting for? Get crackin!

Posted in Art is my LIFE and The Argument Against Human Reproduction. Bite me, Chad.

At Last! The End of Science Week

Published by Jill on June 18, 2010. 77 Comments

Quoth blamer Nails,

“I am sick of science vs intuition and the deep questions that it brings forth.

Alas, deep questions that make people sick are the bread and butter of a patriarchy-blaming blog. I have to admit, though, that this particular science vs intuition flap gave me a brain-wedgie. While I fully expect advanced blamers to join in the Fuck the Establishment Chorus, it sort of blew my lobe to contemplate that so many blamers would take it to the extent that they openly live hunch-based lives.

Ah well, chacun à son goût, as American bloggers who took high school French say.

Meanwhile, it appears that my position on Science needs clarifying, so that people will know whether or not to revile me as a turncoat brown-nosing patriarchy sympathizer. Here goes.

This spinster aunt continues to advocate feminist revolt, which revolt would necessarily include a total annihilation of the dude-based science industrial complex. I postulate that science, when performed outside of a paradigm of dominance and submission, could do nothing but enbiggen human enlightenment.

Once liberated from the obligation of proving the legitimacy of oppression (homosexuality is a disease, lobotomy cures mental illness, males are hardwired to require porn) and of improving methods of enforcing oppression (spyware, offshore drilling, mind-control brain-eating nanobots) science will exist only to advance the cause of human contentment and taco enjoyment.

But I vigorously agree that putting any faith whatsoever in current dude-dominated science cabals is not the path to feminist triumph.

I mean, cheeses, speaking of science justifiying oppression, just today, at Pharyngula, I read about some predatory butcher MD who roams the countryside surgically sculpting toddler clitorises according to their parents’ whim, and then, in the follow-up, he pervs out on’em with vibrators! Holy motherfucking shit! As one commenter remarked,

This went through the fucking peer review process, and in all of that no one who encountered it thought it was wrong. No one who reviewed it, edited it, printed it, or read it for the last three years stopped and thought about the fact that what those “sensitivity studies” [the vibrator sessions] amounted to was sexual assault on elementary school-aged girls year after year after year.

Despite the reasonableness of their response to female genital mutilation, if the gang over at PZ’s may be said to represent a self-selected sample of progressive science-thought, things do not necessarily bode well for the revolution. The other day over there I broached one of my pet subjects, the good old cyborg fetus incubator, and the response was bafflement. “Why would I want to do away with the one thing women are good for?” was more or less the theme. “Reproduction is women’s essence.” It apparently hadn’t occurred to anyone that freedom from the tyranny of reproduction is essential to women’s liberation.

In closing, I reiterate:

Fuck the establishment.

Posted in Number 1 Science Information, Oppression Culture and The Argument Against Human Reproduction. Bite me, Chad.

Spinster aunt beats dead horse

Published by Jill on June 17, 2010. 52 Comments

Stinkhorn
This lone stinkhorn mushroom is the only entity anywhere in Cottonmouth County that doesn’t have a katydid stuck to it.

Unsurprisingly, my award-nominated (I personally nominate all my work for awards, to compensate for the fact that, incomprehensibly, I am so often overlooked by committees) vid lampooning the anti-science lifestyle choice, has generated some jaundice.

It occurs to some of us here at Spinster HQ that the only way to avoid hurting anybody’s feelings ever is to shut down the entire obstreperal lobe and become a pillow.

Not that empillowment is without its own controversies, because what do you stuff the pillow with? Not feathers, surely, or wool, or silk, but aren’t synthetics their own special sort of politically incorrect scourge? Which leaves grass clippings, but what with all the katydid poop and raccoon dander lying around, questions of hygiene are raised.

Anyway, you’re all good sports, especially those of you who joked that I drive away my loyal “followers” with elitism. Unless — hey, wait, what? Were you serious? Because that hurts my feelings.

Mang, this science vs intuition “debate” has gotten completely ridic. Awesome! I will speak of nothing else for the foreseeable future!

I think we can all agree that when you define science as a method for acquiring knowledge, and intuition as the spark of intelligence that ignites inquiry (although maybe a better word would be genius), we’re all pretty much on the same page.

Is there a magical form of feminine insta-knowledge what spontaneously erupts on unicorn rays in the unseen 5th dimension of the human metaspirit? Why not? Just show me the data and we’ll be cool.

See? We’re getting along great now.

But oy, elitism. It’s always the way when knowledge becomes specialized. Subcultures bubble out of the general magma, standards and practices become codified, skills get required, expertise becomes venerated, a canon is established, as well as a hierarchy, practitioners become eccentric egomaniacs, gatekeepers show up to protect them from the rabble, and the subculture becomes more and more detached from the teeming throng from which it spranged even as its influence spreads like I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter on a frozen toaster waffle. And then someone from the throng says, “Hey, bite me you elitist asswipes, we don’t need you, we’re going back to the way we were before your delusions turned you into a megalomaniac, because those were the good old days.” And then some spinster aunt says, “Hey, yerself! As the world’s leading expert on expertise, I think you’re throwing the baby out with the other babies!”

What am I saying? Just this:

You don’t have to be Martina Navratilova to play a game of tennis.

And I should know, because I’m not Martina Navratilova.

There are other things you don’t have to be in order to do things. You don’t have to be a professional 70’s pop star-cum-tragic figure to crank up “Close To You” and go “wah-ah-ah-ah-ah, close to yew!” after the tacet interlude. You don’t have to have ironed Jean-Paul Sartre’s shirts to nod in vigorous agreement when you read in The Second Sex that all oppression creates a state of war. You don’t have to be the Weatherman to blow up the Pentagon. And you don’t have to be a tenured science knob to appreciate the process of scientific inquiry.

As VinaigretteGirl points out, you can (and should) do experiments in your closet for fun. I’m doing one right now where I’m testing the structural integrity of a typical household wicker laundry basket, primarily by never unloading it into the washing machine. What a gas! More complicated endeavors, like collecting soil samples from Pluto’s surface to analyze for Crystalline Entity droppings, can be admired from afar as a spectator sport.

The purpose of scientifical pursuit, in the pure form most admired by middle-aged spinster aunts, has less to do with being published in Nature, or using jargon on dude science blogs to shut up the people who didn’t go to college, or advancing the megatheocorporatocratic agenda, than it does with simply enbiggening human enlightenment. The enbiggenment of human enlightenment is always conducted on the individual level. Whenever a glob of comprehension supplants a glob of incomprehension in a human brain, the Dark Side (or the Tyranny of Ignorance, if you like, or the Black Thing) gets bent. Whenever that happens, the whole species is collectively that much better off. Consult any 6-year-old for further information; globs of knowledge supplant globs of ignorance in their brains on an hourly basis, and they really seem to dig it.

Anyway, am I saying “Yay Big Pharma! Keep inventing cancer drugs and charging $40,000 a year for’em!”? No. Am I saying, “Yay, the Women’s Oppression League has just endowed a foundation for the advancement of evolutionary psychology!”? No. Am I saying “When a thing does a thing and you don’t know why, would it kill you to find out?” Yes. And it doesn’t even matter if somebody has already answered the question you’re asking. Check out this inspirational personal anecdote:

The other day I realized that I’m 50 years old already and I still don’t know how katydids make that deafening racket like unto 876,932 small pulsating dentist drills that keeps me awake all night. So I hoisted my ass up out of the lime green recliner and nabbed a specimen for the lab.

Minuscule katydid

It wasn’t hard. All I had to do was stick my hand out the window, since there is no square inch of El Rancho Deluxe that is not populated by a katydid. Every tree, shrub, cactus, rock, tractor, and blade of grass is literally crawling with katydids. The bunkhouse itself appears to have been dipped in a vat of katydids. A lady from another planet, upon observing the tableau, would conclude that a large, fleshy pink entity is being held captive in a limestone nest by a race of screaming green rattly leaves.

But I digress.

Back in the lab, I inspected my katydid with a magnifying glass and poked it with the eraser of my Ticonderoga #2 pencil, whereupon I was able to determine that my specimen had no intention of making any noise of any kind whatsoever. Several katydids later, I finally figured out how they make the racket. It was pretty satisfying. Now I’m telling everyone I know about the katydids. Nobody cares, unfortunately.

_______________________
Katydid nymph photo [above] taken May 2009. Adult katydids (the ones around here, at least) look like leaves:

Katydid

Posted in Heartwarming Nature Crap, Number 1 Science Information, The megatheocorporatocracy and Varmint Center. Bite me, Chad.

The video the real feminists don’t want you to see

Published by Jill on June 16, 2010. 85 Comments

Posted in Number 1 Science Information, Pre-recorded Twisty and Private Business of the Secret Feminist Society. Bite me, Chad.

Phrases that need to be expunged

Published by Jill on June 15, 2010. 32 Comments

Powerful tool

When powerful tool describes a piece of software, as in

The Browser is a powerful tool for organizing all your program elements in a multi-level structure by allowing you to separate your material into unlimited bins for multiple sessions using the column header’s shortcut menu for a smoother workflow.

it only means that it is fucking complicated, and you’re going to have to read a manual and complete a bunch of time-wasting tutorials before you can figure out how to do the one dumb thing you need it to do. It is not, therefore, a powerful tool at all, but the dude who wrote the code sure as hell is.

Posted in Announcements. Bite me, Chad.

Blamer Brain Trust Alert: Blamer seeks non-soul-crushing employment

Published by Jill on June 13, 2010. 142 Comments

Today’s cry for help is from one of our more prolific and incisive blamers, but I forgot to ask if I could use her real name, so until she outs herself she’s Blamer X.

Dear Twisty,

I just got out of a soul crushing HR meeting where I raised concern about the bosses of our department being 2/3 men despite men making up like 45% of the department, and that the women who have been promoted have worked there for ages in order to get that far (in between complaints about individual dudes and the crap they say/do). They explained to me the equally applied and straightforward nature of hiring and promotion (yeah, sure), and assured me that I cannot know who was really the best candidate because I wasn’t there during the meetings. I also should not be afraid for my job (ha!). Their job is to lie to me about the consequences of reporting a bunch of people who have authority over me, and I doubt much of anything will happen. I am looking for a new job.

Anyway, I know that the circumstances I reported are common at many work places. I want to know if there are blamer suggestions for finding a job that isn’t filled with this kind of BS. Are there any notoriously female industries or jobs that aren’t totally shitty and underpaid?

thanks
Blamer X

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dear Blamer X,

Although spinster auntly expertise is global, my own work history (see my absurd CV on the About Twisty page) compels me to reveal that I am no authority on notoriously female industries or jobs that aren’t totally shitty and underpaid. In fact, as far as I have been able to determine, there are no notoriously female industries, only dude industries that are notorious for exploiting a female workforce.

I might suggest bartending in a dyke bar. These little hellholes are always owned by women. Bartending money is petty good, and the sexual harassment would originate with women, making it somewhat more palatable on accounta the built-in sex-based power differential, often imitated but never duplicated, has no precise analog amongst the ladies.

However, I realize that dispensing booze to partying lesbians until 2 or 3 in the morning — especially if karaoke is involved — may not be your idea of a swell time. Lesbians are not automatically feminists, nor are they famous, as a class, for their good taste in music. Also, there is no health insurance.

Therefore I’m putting it up to the Blametariat.

Hugs,
Twisty

So what’s the word, girls? Does Blamer X’s dream job exist?

Posted in Hugs, Twisty and Oppression Culture. Bite me, Chad.

Spinster aunt registers lack of surprise

Published by Jill on June 12, 2010. 29 Comments

I knew it!

We acknowledge that systematic meat sharing by male chimpanzees in expectation of, or in return for, immediate copulations might be discovered in future studies. However, current data indicate that such exchanges are so rare, and so different in nature from exchanges among humans, that with respect to chimpanzees, sexual bartering in humans should be regarded as a derived trait with no known antecedents in the behavior of wild chimpanzees. [cite]

Thanks a buttload, SelinaK!

Posted in Junk Studies, Number 1 Science Information and Sexploitation. Bite me, Chad.

“Women withhold sex because men let them get away with it”

Published by Jill on June 12, 2010. 93 Comments

Feel like puking? Check out this crusty scab of human hatred from the Fox News website, a men’s advice column entitled “Reasons Women Withhold Sex.”

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “why would I feel like puking?” Or possibly, “why would anyone bother writing a men’s advice column entitled ‘Reasons Women Withhold Sex’ when the answer, so obvious to anyone with half a grip, is ‘because sex with you sucks’?”

But apparently men need to hear something other than the truth. Enter men’s advice-ist Sarah Stefanson. Rarely has so puke-a-riffic an example of the acculturation of sexist male entitlement been seen in this, or any other, galaxy.

I would call Sarah Stefanson a lousy turncoat collaborating suck-up shitbag, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions. There’s always the possibility that she was forced against her will to scrawl this feces-stain on the knickers of human achievement. Forced, perhaps, by some asshole who literally held a gun to her head, threatening to kneecap her 80-year-old grandma and foreclose on her 9-acre dirt farm, send a shipment of tainted vaccines to blind orphans in Bangladesh, and drown a sackful of kittens in a pond of toxic run-off. That has to be the scenario, because otherwise I’d be forced to contemplate that there actually exists a woman so degraded, so corrupt, so sociopathic, or so desperate that she would willingly turn out this kind of unremitting, lobe-scorching dudebro misogyny for the pitiful sum of 10 cents a word.

But I digress.

Sarah Stefanson’s hate speech addresses a dudely audience, and begins, I am sorry to say, like this:

One of the benefits of being in a long-term relationship is that you have someone that you can readily depend on for regular sex.

But uh-oh. Dude’s dependable meatsock may not be feelin’ it. She may even be “withholding” it. This suggests that the benefits of which Sarah Stefanson speaks so glowingly might be experienced by the party of the second part as unpleasantness. Hence her tips on how to manipulate your sex-woman and “get the carnal door open again” (Jaysus, 10 cents a word for that? Kill me now).

Observes Stefanson, “if there’s one area of a relationship women think they have control over, it’s sex.” But don’t buy it, men!

In the wild world of men’s advice columny, “purposefully withholding” sex is universally understood as a wholly nefarious, cruel, and mystifying method of female retribution. That’s because sex is a commodity to which men are entitled by the Global Accords Governing Fair Use of Women. Women are the sex class. If the flow of access is interrupted, the natural order is out of whack, and your sex-woman needs to be reset. But hey, chillax, bra! Stefanson’s column addresses the painful question “what can a suffering dude do when his receptacle is ‘purposefully withholding’ sex?”

In answering the question, Sarah Stefanson, with whom I begin to grow increasingly annoyed, leaves no tired old war-between-the-sexes cliché unturned. Women who “close up shop” (yes, really) are manipulative, out to prove who’s boss, cheating, or “playing games.” If they’re too tired to fuck, men are urged to poke them with sticks. If none of the tactics listed sufficiently cajoles them, “you might have to wait it out and service yourself until she comes to her senses.” But ultimately, Sarah Stefanson opines, women withhold sex “because men let them get away with it.” So man up, you spineless fairy, and take what’s yours.

Stefanson’s article is a stupid lowbrow clump of oppression-culture condensation, and doesn’t really merit a full-on paragraph-by-paragraph analysis, but it’s worth pointing out that it was filed on a major news website under “Men’s Health,” where it is accepted, uncritically and without analysis, that women are an underclass with so little agency that sexual manipulation is their only recourse.

Puke.

[Thanks, PhioGistic]

Posted in Dear god what about the men?, Men Hate You, Oppression Culture and Women hate you. Bite me, Chad.

Hanging Chads of Savage Death Island bore the shit out of spinster aunt

Published by Jill on June 10, 2010. 153 Comments

Wow, I nip out to town for a couple of mahi tacos (diet cops, shut your yaps), stumble back to my desk, and discover that some dude named Jack has parachuted down to Savage Death Island, peered at the curious natives through a 2X magnifying glass, and pronounced (some of) us “smart.” Despite the fact that we don’t care for his “vague” antifeminist remarks. He then attempts to reinforce his superior status with an unflattering lampoon of the Blametariat, and to enlighten us with his unique male viewpoint. There’s also some other guy (“Flotsam”? “Fosdick”?) on another thread who’s really taking up some space with his unique male perspective.

Henceforth such dudes will be known as hanging chads.

These hanging chads, they really never get it. Because women generally, and radical Internet Feminists in particular, are to them some mystical, unfathomable alien species, they think we don’t understand them! It is hilarious, the predictability with which they all, without exception, every single time, enduringly and persistently, are compelled to lecture the ignorant Savage Death Islanders on the finer points of the superior dude civilization back on the mainland. Because if we just understood them, we would see how wrong we are to experience Chadly privilege as oppression.

“Don’t you see? When you attack our porn, it makes us insecure, because we love porn, wee wee wee!”

Yeah, yeah, feminism makes you insecure so you have to post insults, death threats, and boring lectures on feminist blogs. What a revelation. Knock me over with a feather. Ça alors, c’est une big surprise.

But here’s the thing.

Now, I don’t speak for all the feminists, or for the readers of this blog, but this spinster aunt doesn’t care about dudes at all. In fact, I have acute dude fatigue. The topic of Dudes In Society excites me about as much as expressing the dog’s anal sacs. Educational anecdotes concerning the Dude Experience monotonize me to the max. The rarefied and incomparable Heterosexual Male Perspective bores the living lobe lubricant out of me.

Why?

Because I’ve heard it all about 174.8 million times before, and hearing it again doesn’t do a fucking thing for me. It doesn’t make the world a better place, it doesn’t cut through waxy yellow build-up, it doesn’t clean toilets, and it for sure doesn’t enlighten me.

What all chads fail to grasp is that, as members of an oppressed class, we have always considered it a matter of survival and our No. 1 priority to grok the fullness of the oppressor. In fact, we’ve been grokking the oppressor’s fullness since the cradle, mostly without even realizing it. It hasn’t been too difficult, since we were all raised in the smelly nutsack of Dude Nation, and continue to be engulfed by and to marinate in dudelionormative swampwater all day, every day. If there is ever some little dudecentric point here or there that eludes us, not to worry; dudelionormative socialization protocols are in place to take us back to school and whip us into shape.

The result?

There is nothing about men that Savage Death Islanders don’t know. Nothing. We know all about your dicks and your glands and what gets you off and how you were socialized and the terrible strain of male privilege. We get all your dude-jokes. We know all your antifeminist arguments. We know all your porn-is-necessary justifications. We know how you behave when you perceive that someone of a lower caste has challenged your authori-tay. No need to explain to us that we are doing feminism wrong, because we’ve already heard it from the 495,312 dudes who thought of it before you were born. We know that you are not conscious of your own privilege. And we get that, because your invisible privilege derives from the oppression of women, you hate women.

It turns out that after a lifetime of prophylactic acquiescence to Dude Culture gavage, I no longer give a crap. I don’t give a crap if dudes like me, or if dudes like feminists, or if dudes understand basic elements of feminism, or if dudes support the feminist fucking agenda, or if dudes sincerely ask me to educate them about feminism when all they really need is a swift kick in the grill with the boot of basic human decency. I’d rather have a root canal than spend even 3 seconds trying to convince some dude that patriarchy exists and that I’m not just making it up because I’m ugly and can’t get laid. The only thing that interests me less than educating lazy-ass dudes about their male fucking privilege is explaining to fucking lazy-ass privileged dudes why I am not interested in educating them. And Jesus Christ, the ennui! The crushing, stultifying, soporific ennui! The ennui of writing “Chad, you seem like a nice enough guy, but you should really check out the Feminism 101 blog before calling me ‘irrational’ and alluding to the power of femininity.” The ennui of reading “your a bitch thats why feminism will fail.” The ennui of sifting through gibberish like “Our female ruling class & their collaborators are biggest criminals in history.”

God, the ennui! It’s like living in the goddam Twilight Zone episode where the train keeps pulling into the same station over and over and over.

Nothing wastes my time like a dude. And at age 51, I ain’t got all that much time left.

In other words, the less I see of dudes, and of the gruesome products of their corny-ass fetishes, and of their boring-ass pronouncements on my blog, the more pleasant my day will be.

Look, mang, sometimes a spinster aunt just wants to shoot the shit with interested parties about some stuff, without having to endure douchebags splurting out boring douchebag shit that means nothing to anyone except other douchebags who are trying to out-douchebag each other. She wants to shoot the shit about stuff like this:

That a world order predicated on domination’n’submission oppresses entire classes of people. That oppression is experienced by these classes of people as discrimination, violence, and hatred. That discrimination, violence and hatred are unhealthy and injurious. That a social revolution that obviates the domination’n’submission model will have the concomitant effects of liberating the oppressed classes and, it so happens, of neutralizing the arousal quotient of domination, rendering pornography obsolete.

That’s right. After the revolution, pornography will have all the allure of cleaning a lint trap. No dreaded “censorship” or “banning” required. It will resolve itself.

Posted in Announcements, Blogulation, Dear god what about the men?, Oppression Culture and Private Business of the Secret Feminist Society. Bite me, Chad.

Raw data, impartially presented

Published by Jill on June 9, 2010. 81 Comments

Total number of comments I Blame the Patriarchy has received since publishing my critique of Jason G Goldman’s article: 174

Number of death threats I’ve received in same interim: 3

Number of comments in same interim containing nothing but profanity: 17

Number of comments in same interim containing vaguely pro-dudebro garbled gibberish: 2

Number of comments expressing in standard English overtly misogynist or antifeminist sentiments: 11

Number of external blog posts linking to my critique that characterize my views as “anti-science”: 3*

Number of comments alluding to the autoharp: 2

Total percentage of comments expressing hostility toward anti-porn views on this here radical feminist blog: 20%
____________________
* According to Technorati

Posted in Number 1 Science Information. Bite me, Chad.