Content, People!

There was an opinon piece in the Oregon Daily Emerald a couple of days ago that really burned my biscuits. At first, I thought this girl was just naieve, but then I realized that I've heard her view more than I care to think about. I shant keep you in suspense any longer...

She wrote about womens-rights group on campus protesting the depictions of women in such fine publications as Playboy. Basically, she argued that if the women know what they're doing, it should be viewed as an artistic expression of their hot bodies. Moreover, she claimed that the magazines themselves don't objectify the women, it's the men (and women) who read them that make the women objects (if you haven't already ripped this apart logically, I'll do so in just a moment. Promise). Then, she proceeded to qestion such works of art as the Sistine Chapel, which have depictions of naken women, and why the heck-fire aren't people throwing a fit over those naked ladies? Her summation was that if the women want to pose, its their decision and (somehow) bolstering the image of women.

HOW CAN PEOPLE POSSIBLY THINK THIS?!?! Here I go...

I'll start with her logically unsound argument that the women aren't objects that people make them objects, blah blah. If this were actually true, the women posing in Playboy could be seen as artistic representations of the female form, RIGHT? Well, I have a really, REALLY hard time swallowing that when I open the mag and see a girl with a see-through baby doll dress and her legs splayed this way and that. If the "art" was supposed to not make an object of women, why are they always portrayed with that "commere baby" look in their eye and posing in sexually suggestive positions? By saying these pictures don't make them an object is to deny what entails a sexual object. No duh bitch, it doesn't turn them into a friggin' tomato. The women are already objectified BEFORE the overweight 47-year-old gets his grubby hands on the mag. They are, BEFORE this point, wankin' material, waiting to be wanked to. Moreover, it degrades a woman to be represented "artistically" in a magazine that also has "how to" sex columns, dick enhancement creams ("rub it on and your penis grows!") and advertisements for escort services. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure there are plenty of pop art pieces which could really play with this notion. But creating art for the purpose of intellectual conversation and creating "art" to wank-off too are completely different. And don't try to refute that, because if you do you're Satan.

Second point... SISTINE CHAPEL?!?! What the FUCK?!?! Here's where intent comes into play. Like I said before, Playboy is created for the purpose of wanking off. Okay, fine. Maybe some of you read the articles, but you're still supporting the sex machine. Why not read articles in the Smithsonian? There's naked women in there. Or perhaps National Geographic? That's what I thought. Sorry, back to my point. Michelangelo created the Sistine chapel for the purpose of divine worship. He created a work that tells a story and the naked people have a part in the story. "But Patrick!", you say, "There's stories with naked people in Playboy! Why, it's stories about plumbers and police women! Stories with pictures and people being naked!", you exclaim. "Ah, true", I say, "but those pictures always cumulate (heh heh, cumulate) in the women on all fours, with the man, uh, well you know." That being said, the pictures of naked women in the Sistine Chapel are to please God. Even if you're not a religious person, it is rediculous to try and argue that Michelangelo painted this masterpeice for the purpose of objectifying women. You know what? Nevermind. I TOTALLY forgot about the part of the Sistine Chapel, right near the front if I'm not mistaken, that shows Mary Magdalene bent over a sofa with her voluptous breasts hanging in full view, licking a cherry and smiling a sly sexy smile. Oh yeah, that part.

Playboy objectifies women. If you believe otherwise, you totally suck.

ADDENDUM: After reading Ben's piece on this subject, I have a completely different view on this subject. You should read it too, lest you wish to become a sucky agent of the devil.

I Sting Dead People

I doubt many people have gone camping, found a dead person, came back, and saw Sting at MacArthur Court last Sunday; but I have.

On Friday, a large group of us went camping at Deer Creek. I went out Friday night with Sami and Rachel. I had never met most of the participants, but they were a cheery bunch and we all were having a grand 'ol time. Late Friday night, we decided to go on a walk and visit "dead guy" (he had been named that earlier by some of the campers because he was in the same spot, lying down, all day). When we approached the person, we found out that he was not only dead, he had been there for a very, very long time. Mud was thickly coated half-way up his body (from rain splashing on the muddy ground beneath him) and he wasn't breathing. Rachel, Tej and I were clutching each other, in no mood to see his face or other features. We stood behind the corpse while others, including Sami, (GO SAMI! YOU'RE SO FUCKIN' HARDCORE!!!!!) studied his mangled visage. He was holding a .22 caliber under his side, beneath his head. Not that any of us are forensic scientists, but it was clear he had committed suicide. His corpse was swollen and white, more evidence that he had been there for quite some time. Does it get creepier? You bet...

While visiting dead guy, Abba (another camper) was noticing d.g.'s car, a red Mitsubishi. He saw a suicide note in the passenger seat, and although he didn't feel like reading it (awwww, come on! It's a superfun suicide note!) he remembered a story in the paper last month with these factors - red Mitsubishi, missing, emotionally troubled man, blah blah. Not only did he remember the story, he had the paper with this story AT OUR CAMP. When the Rangers came early Saturday morning, they were questioning Tej, Andrew and Abba about the incident. I heard one of the Rangers was confused as to how we could know so much about d.g., until Abba pulled out the paper and said "here".

Needless to say, finding a dead person opens a frightening realm of thought to any person. How did they die? Were they murdered? What about their family? Is the killer still out there? These and many more were rushing through my head as we went back to camp. One of the campers brought his son for the night. Of course, none of us uttered a word about d.g. near the 6-year-old.

I feel terrible that I can't remember his name, but for the sake of clarity I'll call him Matt. There we sat, completely stupified and unable to make even awkward conversation. At that moment, Matt burst forth with one hell of a story only an imaginative 6-year-old could tell. The story went on for a solid 2 hours, all of us were involved, and he had special parts for each of us. Tej and I were "Number One's", so if he ever left we would be in charge of "taking care of people". The story included blond werewolves, marines, among other imaginary and slightly imaginary and non-imaginary creatures. We all had to participate in an initiation ceremony, which involved lighting a stick on fire, blowing it out, and having everyone in the party clap for you. The stick would be passed to the next person and the rite would continue. Though I couldn't erase d.g. from my memory, or sufficiently push him into the backround of my mind, I was thoroughly engaged in Matt's story. I was experiencing the explosion of life through Matt to such an extent that d.g. wasn't an all-consuming presence. Matt was encouraging all of us to watch out for one another and take care of one another. We had assigned priorities and duties should he leave. When he went to bed, we were all blisfully sad.

Then on Sunday I went and saw Sting at MacArthur court. He rocked. He's 500 years old and COMPLETELY AMAZING. If yoga makes you have a body like Sting, I'm all for it. DAMN. He rocked so hard diamonds were spewing out his back end. Well, not literally because nothing was spewing out his back end... thankfully. He prefaced the concert by saying he'd be playing a lot of his old stuff. That totally rocked because I know all the Police stuff, but I haven't followed his recent albums at all. We heard "Roxanne", "Every Breath You Take", he even did a couple of Beatle covers.

Cheers to crazy weekends.