In defense of the sanctimonious women's studies set || First feminist blog on the internet

The fall and rise of community

Flute here, not Lauren. Humans are social animals. Yet today, through decades of targeted marketing, people place more value on consumer products than they do on each other. Gone are the days where social capital was the major currency of life, it has been replaced by the cold hard greenback. Now a persons capacity to function in an unspoken reciprocal relationship with their communities is less of a factor of perceived value than their bank balance, what car they drive, and how many plasma TVs they own. It is only natural, after all we have been bombarded with “Buy this, feel good” messages for years. People have become insular, focusing on their own immediate needs and the needs of their family in a materialistic sense, rather than looking at the gains that can be made from socialising with others.

But deep down, people need more than this. Reality TV was the first stop gap, why talk over the fence to your neighbour when you can watch them on TV. You can even relate to them by voting them off if you don’t like them. And boy, if there was a 24 hour channel of neighbours fighting and police beating up black people then sign me up straight away.

But people need more than this. Somehow this Coca-Cola Sony Big Brother lifestyle is not enough, particular in areas where a sense of community used to exist. People need to be reaffirmed and made to feel good about themselves, so what better way to exploit this than for a government to espouse divisive policies. You with your two kids and a dog, you are right, that single parent is less right, the unemployed woman without a DVD player is a bit iffy, and that dark skinned poofta fella is just plain wrong. Don’t condone their actions as they are a threat to your way of life. But these policies only satisfy self-esteem, not social instinct.

Enter evangelistic organisations such as the Assemblies of God! Now people can satisfy that missing urge to be part of a community. What is more, this community reaffirms that your way of life is not only right, but others will burn in hell for eternity. The congregation can gather and get their quick fix of old time community, sing some songs, praise the lord, and if they’re lucky maybe that prayer to pay off the mortgage and buy a new dishwasher will be answered. So now everyone is happy, big business is happy because their consumerism has the gold seal stamp of approval from God Almighty, people are happy that they belong and they are right, politicians are happy because they now have an easy to read block of society to peddle their wares to.

Unlike traditional communities, membership is highly conditional. First, you have to believe that Jesus is the saviour and that the bible is the word of God – suitably twisted to suit your lifestyle which makes the pill easier to swallow. Second, membership comes at a very high financial price, both at the collection plate (by the way if you’re sitting down, let the person next to you sit down if they want to sign a cheque – actual quote from good old Sydney Channel 31 RIP) and through various merchandising that allows you to get closer to Jesus. Once you are in, you are in, and the fear factor of being ostracised from this new home and lose part of your identity makes you buy more.

So who are the real beneficiaries of this non-reciprocal arrangement? The people that run the organisation, the pastors, the boards, big business and of course those who inhabit the dark recesses of the market forces political right. And now the “preachers”, not satisfied with having a sympathetic ear in the conservative politics, have taken it further by exploiting their one way social-capital to gain political power. The wave of consumer lead religion and political myopia that was born in the United States of America and is spreading worldwide, is truly the most frightening phenomena that is occurring in the Western world today. It is a potent force that will not be spent until victory or defeat, there is no room for compromise or collaboration.

Cuter than Pablo?

Seeing as its Friday afternoon in Australia and while I am here you will kneel in worship to my timezone, its catblogging time. You give us effluence like “Everybody Loves Raymond”, I give you early cats. Another example of how free trade agreements screw the small folk. I used to hate cats. My wife wanted one and I said OK, but it will be a millstone around my neck. Hence, I am proud to present Millstone, our first cat.

Millstone

Millstone is a bit of everything from the local pound. She is now about 7 years old.
Of course Millstone wanted a friend and since I was cured of my irrational hatred we wanted another one. It was a funny scary looking thing from the same pound. Enter Spooky stage left:
Spooky

Spooky is now around 6 years old. So what sort of cat am I?


Sphinx
You are a Sphinx! You are mocked for your unusual
appearance, but you are very loving and
devoted. People just need to give you a
chance!

What breed of cat are you?
brought to you by Quizilla


Stupid cat quizzes.

Cat Blogging

I didn’t cheat on this quiz, really. It has everything to do with me being a talker and never able to shut up or notice myself interrupting a speaker. I also have the habit of completely switching topics and derailing a completely viable consersation into something else entirely.

Maine Coon
You are a Maine Coon! You are larger than life, a
gentle giant. You are independent, but very
affectionate with your friends and family.

What breed of cat are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Pablo, my dear Maine Coon cat, is developing a greater vocabulary. Ethan and I have figured out the difference between an “I want water” meow and an “ignore me, I’m just talking” meow. He has also developed the kitty version of a disgruntled “Humph” and a half-purr meow.

The most imporant news is that I actually caught Pablo purring the other day after months of nothing. He usually snorts like a pig.

[Quiz via Trish]

Pablo Gets In My Drawers

Since I rearranged the den, Pablo has also taken to the window seat.


He even moved the plant and candles out of the way so he could fit on the table.

Damn

That’s it. I’m not taking any more quizzes.

Hugo Schwyzer with Glenn Sacks

I’m currently listening to Hugo Schwyzer talk to Glenn Sacks. Wow. Just wow. I don’t think Sacks could be any more patronizing to Hugo as a “male feminist.”

Sacks just interrupted Hugo by turning off his microphone. Nice. The advertising is unbelievable – talk about targeting groups. Every ad is for men who have lost their jobs, men going through divorce, or men in custody suits. Even lawyers for men accused of rape. Not kidding. Oftentimes, the ads are read by women.

Ampersand of Alas, A Blog just called in. This is craziness.

If you hurry, you can listen to it now.

Pablo, Kill!

Wednesday, I spent a little time knitting a cat toy and stuffing it with catnip. To say that Pablo enjoyed the toy would be an understatement.


At least someone other than the Republican elite had fun this Thursday.

And I’m not sure how this happened,


but he did it to himself. I came around the corner of the kitchen to find a plastic bag perched atop Pablo’s feline ass.

Not so fierce and feral now, eh kitty?

Berube Does It Better

Michael Berube writes parody in response to the inane statements about the “inherent” differences between the sexes uttered by Harvard president Lawrence H. Summers:

According to Kinbote, the presidency of Harvard University requires a unique array of talents and dispositions which, statistically, only a small handful of women possess. “For one thing,” noted Kinbote, “it has long been one of the president’s tasks to deny tenure to promising female scholars– personally, without stated cause, and after a department, a college, and a battery of external referees has approved her. My study shows that the X chromosome contains material that, in combination with another X chromosome, inhibits a person’s ability to do this.”

Men are also more adept than women at mentally rotating three-dimensional shapes on aptitude tests, Kinbote added. “You’d be surprised how often a university president needs to do this, and at Harvard the pressure is especially intense.” Kinbote estimated that the president of Harvard spends roughly one-quarter of the working day mentally rotating complex, hypothetical three-dimensional shapes, “and that’s not even counting all the time he needs to try to figure out why women aren’t as skilled at abstract mathematical thought.”

Dr. PZ Myers weighs in as well:

The article mentions that several attendees walked out on him, including Nancy Hopkins. I know Nancy Hopkins—she’s a molecular geneticist who has done innovative work with zebrafish—and I’m not surprised that she left in disgust. She herself personifies exactly what is wrong with these stupid comments by Summers. I am surprised and disappointed that everyone didn’t storm out.

I’ll tell you how much of a role discrimination plays in limiting female professors in so-called “elite” universities: 100%. There is no shortage of brilliant women scientists (or brilliant male scientists), but there is a dearth of jobs and we still have bigoted ignoramuses like Summers standing guard over the gateways…

…Guess what, Summers? Boys don’t have an “innate” tendency towards science and math. Leave them alone, and they don’t grow up into natural engineers: they become animals who like to eat and screw and scratch themselves. The most important contributor to that predilection for tinkering and building and learning is education. Any possible inherited differences are miniscule compared to the power of education and cultural biases.

And don’t try to pretend that socialization is minimal, when the president of Harvard can stand up and seriously suggest that many people are incapable of doing great science because they have ovaries. We don’t do research with our gonads, or our skin pigments, for that matter.

Apparently we were due for another high-profile man to fall publicly on the sword of sexism. Dumbass. Feministing has more on the fallout.

via Roxanne

Malo Gato

Pablo showed absolutely no interest in my yarn until a few weeks ago. But all of a sudden is obsessed with dragging my yarn all over the house in his sharp little teeth. I could kill him.

I finally relented and gave him some scrap yarn to play with, but no, he insists on playing with the expensive stuff.

Up until he developed this new pasttime, Pablo and I have gotten along famously. While this isn’t as bad as my old cat Wilson’s habit (humping at stuffed animals and fabric like a dog humps a leg), I could certainly do without this behavior.