MICHAEL DAVIS WORLD

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Stray Cat Blues, by Martha Thomases – Brilliant Disguise

June 5, 2009 Martha Thomases 15 Comments

photo.jpgTwo recent events – the nomination of Sonia Sotomayor to the Supreme Court and the murder of Dr. George Tiller in Kansas – have crystallized, for me, what The Onion refers to as “Our Stupid Discourse.” These are both extremely important events, worthy to inspire serious conversation on the issues of life, death, race, judgement and responsibility.

But we’re not. Instead, we’re having a competition to see which group is most persecuted.

The popular political stereotype would have you believe that liberals and others on the Left claim victimhood as their own. So-called “Identity Politics,” in which groups define themselves as an oppressed class (such as “gay” or “black” or “female”) allegedly stifle debate by demanding “political correctness” (which, in my opinion, ends to boil down to a resentment from the other side that they can’t use derogatory terms, like “faggot” or “lady” without getting criticized for it). The Left, according to these arguments, expects the world to take care of the downtrodden, instead of teaching the downtrodden to take care of themselves.

That’s not the way these two debates play out. Let’s consider:

* Judge Sotomayoris an experienced juror with an impressive record. She graduated at the top of her class at both Princeton and Yale Law School. She was appointed to the federal bench by President George H.W. Bush, a man still recognized as a Republican.

However, she is also the child of Puerto Rican immigrants (which, since Puerto Rico is part of the United States, seems to me like saying my son is the child of Ohio immigrants), who grew up in a housing project in the Bronx. She overcame great emotional and financial hardship to succeed in school and in her career, and she has the audacity to suggest that her personal decisions might inform her cognitive process.

Specifically, she said that, just as a wise man and a wise woman would both reach the wise decision on the court, a wise Hispanic woman, “with the richness of her experience,” would reach the wise decision more often. This has the Right up in a lather about her “racism” or “reverse racism.”

Note to cede the point, but so what? Samuel Alito said something quite similar at his confirmation hearings, only in his case, he cited his experience as the child of Italian immigrants. And, not for nothing, but it’s not as if the opinions of white men have been shunted aside. There are still six of of them on the court.

* A crazy person murdered Dr. George Willet on Sunday. The murder took place in a church, as the doctor acted as an usher and his wife sang in the choir. The doctor was nationally famous because he was one of the few people who performed late-term abortions. In addition to his clinic, his home had been the object of public demonstrations by anti-abortion groups. Leading conservative figures in the media, including Bill O’Reilly, denounced him on the public airwaves.

All the evidence at this point indicates that the crazy person acted alone. He was an active participant on many anti-abortion Internet sites, but only as a commentator. He did not attend any meetings. He seems to have had few social connections to the so-called Pro-Life movement.

And yet, scarcely had Dr. Willet’s body grown cold before the anti-abortion groups were claiming that the real tragedy was not the death of an unarmed, law-abiding man IN CHURCH, but the possibility that their movement might get tainted by the actions of his killer (http://www.lifenews.com/nat5120.html).

Now, we come to my dilemma. It is my inclination to claim that the Right, in this case, are acting like weak little victims. I would like to find a word that reflects their childish whining.

Unfortunately, the word that leaps to my mind first is “Pussies.”

Why do we think this word is an insult? I know of two meanings for the word. One means a cat. I own a cat, and she is no pushover. She doesn’t whine when she wants something. She demands it. She takes it. She assumes she is the most important creature in the room, and she has the confidence one needs to sleep all day, any place she wants. This, to me, is not acting like a pussy.

The other meaning has to do with lady-parts. Not for nothing, but this is not a weak part of a woman’s anatomy. Mine pushed a fully-formed formed human being into the world. It has other uses as well, but, again, none of these functions seem to me to be related to weakness or whining.

Of course, calling each other names is not a useful style of political disagreement. You and I, dear reader, may disagree on both of these issues I’ve raised. It’s possible that we can disagree in a way that is informative to us both, allowing us each to learn something from another perspective. Through these conversations, I’ve changed my mind in the past, and I’d like to believe I’m open-minded enough to change my mind in the future.

It’s also possible to disagree with someone without alienation. For example, Mike Gold and I disagree about the right of cigarette makers to advertise their products on the public airwaves. Mike thinks its a First Amendment issue, and I think the public owns the airwaves. We disagree, but he has yet to call me a Fascist, and I haven’t accused him of being pro-cancer. Instead, in the finest Talmudic tradition, we bring our opinions to the table, take a knife, and split hairs.

Perhaps this is what the Right means when it condemns political correctness. My willingness to look at the actual meaning of the word does, indeed, limit my ability to use it as an insult. And when you have no confidence in your argument, perhaps insults are all you have.


Media Goddess Martha Thomases was thrilled to learn that Judge Sotomayor lives on her block. Her husband was less delighted.

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Comments

  1. Vinnie Bartilucci
    June 6, 2009 - 4:57 am

    As a rule, comparing someone to genitals is derogatory. Thought interestingly, comparing one to female parts usually denotes weakness or indecision, but comparison to male parts universally means “idiot”. In an odd way, that can be taken as a compliment to women.

    I wouldn’t compare either of these acts as weak or indecisive. The right has decided that everything Obama does says and believes be questioned and argued against, unless they can find some way to show that it’s only an extention of of something they were doing, in which case it’s hypocritical.While this does not ensure that nothing gets donw (though that would be just fine by them), it keeps their reputation solid as being against Democrats.

    The pro-life movement’s reaction is all to common as well. Often a person who agrees with an organization’s beliefs will go and do something spectacularly stupid (or in this case criminal and evil) and the group is left with the problem of distancing themselves from the guy.How it’s done often greatly helps or hurts their image. And there’s been way too many people getting quoted whose phrases could too easily be read as “well, it’s a shame he’s dead but hey, bitter with the sweet, huh?”

    So technically, both acts are more stupid than they are indecisive. So they’re not pussies, they’re dicks.

  2. pennie
    June 6, 2009 - 5:09 am

    Martha, once again, another honest, heart-felt, finely-detailed and provocative column. You have to know there are few points with which I disagree with you here. Sotomayor–a big, big plus for America–all of it. Dr. TIller–a brave and courageous man who stood up for women as a life’s work and suffered the worst sort of penalty for it.

    These two events–Sotomayor’s nomination/Tiller’s assassination and the reactions to them–were not unconnected for me as well. Together, they represent the gross polarization in our country.

    The hue and cry of all those minority groups you cite for a competitive blue ribbon in the “most downtrodden/most discriminated against” best on-air drama category is nothing more than a fight for recognition and equality. Some justified, some not so much.

    That the RIght/Republicans jostle for inclusion in this contest is laughable. Save for Michael Steele who belongs up there with another infamous Michael for their own cultural/racial alienation, the Right has as much right to whine and whimper about discrimination as I do to join the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
    You know me to be a wordsmith and as for pussy–personally, I love everything about the word and anatomical feature. What’s to dislike?
    Literally. I’ll even eat my words…}’;>)
    There is nothing better you can call me. As you pointed out so well, there is no weakness there–only the obvious implied denigration of women–not ordinarily hurled by other women.

    As we know, for men to call another man “a pussy” is a throw-down–a direct insulting challenge to another man’s virility, manhood, and lack of masculine characteristics. If one is like a woman, that is a bad thing.
    HUH!
    What exactly are men so vainly proud and protective of that anger other men so to be signified as having the characteristics of a woman?
    Why is our genitalia so desirable yet so detestable?
    In my life, every time I’ve been “insulted” with that word. I’ve been joyful in my expression of gratitude.

    Once again sweetie, one terrific column. You are best!

  3. Martha Thomases
    June 6, 2009 - 5:09 am

    Calling someone a “dick” is indeed an insult, but it tends to denote strength. A dick is a guy who sticks to his wrong-headed/awkward/stupid position despite being ineffective. If one wants to use the male member as a metaphor for weakness, one tends to use Yiddish: schmuck or putz. Ah, the power of Jewish mothers!

    Another example of right-wing whining: During the campaign over Prop 8 in California, those opposing gay marriage complained that they were being labeled homophobes. Gee, they are a group of people who want to deny gay people the opportunity to participate in the rights and responsibilities of marriage just because of the way gay people were born. Why would anyone think that’s a bigoted position?

  4. John Tebbel
    June 6, 2009 - 5:36 am

    I’m afraid I have a confession to make. Yes, my birth certificate says “Ohio” on it but I have to tell you all now that my Father came from Michigan and my Mom came from Pennsylvania. I don’t know what languages those names are, but they sure aren’t English.

    And: There ain’t no “pro life movement.” It’s an “anti abortion movement.” A pro-life movement would be fighting war and capital punishment and dangerous transportation systems and hunger and AIDS.

  5. pennie
    June 6, 2009 - 7:45 am

    “Gee, they are a group of people who want to deny gay people the opportunity to participate in the rights and responsibilities of marriage just because of the way gay people were born. Why would anyone think that’s a bigoted position? ”

    Indeed!
    Right makes white, errrr, straight, er, right…

  6. Mike Gold
    June 6, 2009 - 8:24 am

    I haven’t called you a Fascist since you started knitting. I ain’t that dumb.

    As for pussies, our cat is afraid of his own shadow. If Linda sneezes, he runs away. I carried him outside in a warm sunny day so he could see the little birdies he admires (read: wants to eat) from his window perch. He peed all over my arm. If somebody comes over, he runs to the basement and composes suicide notes in haiku. I am told that these behaviors are not uncommon for felines. So, as a euphemism for weakness, “pussy” works… unless you’re referring to the fabled Pussy Galore.

    As a euphemism for genitalia (that sounds plural; in fact, very few people have two), pussy is about as stupid as all the others. That’s partially because “penis” and “vagina” sound too clinical. Also because both, individually, collectively, and/or in combination, are a lot of fun. I prefer not taking sex too seriously — or much of anything else, for that matter. Let’s not treat our sexual organs, and therefore ourselves, as though they were holy objects. They’re part of your body; enjoy ’em.

    Ergo, the word “pussy” is fine by me, unless you’re referring to the fabled Pussy Galore.

    The late, great Dick Shawn has a wonderful routine (it’s on You Tube) about the word “twat.” He’s right; the word is underrated.

  7. pennie
    June 6, 2009 - 10:45 am

    Mike, (“The late, great Dick Shawn has a wonderful routine (it’s on You Tube) about the word “twat.” He’s right; the word is underrated.”), for me pussy, when spoken sounds soft and and sweet while twat spoken sounds like one is spitting or expectorating.
    But that’s just me.
    In the end…both are fun, useful, and make a great meal no matter how one undresses it up.

  8. Mike Gold
    June 6, 2009 - 12:48 pm

    Penny, I appreciate your point, although Mr. Shawn had a very sweet, gentle pronunciation for “twat.”

    It’s all in the mouth action.

  9. pennie
    June 6, 2009 - 1:08 pm

    Mike,(“It’s all in the mouth action.”),
    Obviously you are a learned individual…}’;>)
    Me, at the decided risk of appearing to compartmentalize my prejudices, I belong to the camp that is dedicated to the proposition that two parties can easily enjoy the subject at hand as an appetizer, main course or dessert.

  10. Martha Thomases
    June 6, 2009 - 1:49 pm

    And why is cocksucker an insult? I think the punishment for anyone who uses the term is that he doesn’t get to know any.

  11. pennie
    June 6, 2009 - 1:58 pm

    Martha (“And why is cocksucker an insult?”),
    Wooooooo-hoooooooooo!!!!

  12. Mike Gold
    June 7, 2009 - 2:41 pm

    Lenny Bruce observed cocksucker is certainly not an insult; it’s a good thing. And Lenny never even met Martha Stewart. I think.

    So, Martha (not-Stewart), why is your husband “less delighted” that Judge Sotomayor lives on your block? Admittedly, parking’s already a bitch. And if she lives in Greenwich Village, how will she rule on legalizing marijuana?

  13. John Tebbel
    June 8, 2009 - 6:05 am

    Mike: I have no answer, yet, but this is my question, copyright jrt.

    Greenwich Village, mon amour

    I never wanted to live anyplace but the Village. Once I saw it at eight years old, through the prism of my host, my uncle an NYU professor, ensconced in a two-bedroom coop on the Park with a maid’s room, where I could stay when I came to visit. I managed to move there when I was 25, and I’ve stuck it out since.

    Uncle Jack decamped on or about the Summer of Love, convinced the hippies would be the ruination of the neighborhood. He “retired” twice; first to Connecticut, and then to North Carolina. His apartment would be worth a small fortune, today. Family gossip said he doubled his money, turned his 20 grand into 40. The price of Village co-ops went on up and up.

    And now through the inexorable processes of dame Geography, the Village is said to be Manhattan’s most desirable neighborhood. Not home for bohemians and misfits, integrationists and Serpico, a place to live if you couldn’t find someplace nearer to Central Park, a place to live if you couldn’t handle the squares on your way to pick up your coffee and paper. With the irony we love so much, our popularity is greatest because of what we have not: people. The low-rise density of the village zoning has produced a quality of life free of many of the mob scenes residents of other neighborhoods must endure on a daily and weekly basis just to compete for the necessities of life.

    And now I must report that Anna Wintour does not like the new version of French fries made by a local “diner.” That a celebrity friendly Italian place is now the centerpiece of an empire of restaurant seats, seats that were all taken many weekend evenings last summer, the last season, maybe, of heedless tourism to New York. A venerable local joint has been rendered completely opaque to the street and is guarded by a lady with a clipboard who looks like she’d be happier indoors at maybe Conde Nast.

    Speaking of Vogue, a harbinger of the great change in the Village was that some years ago the modeling agencies evidently began letting their charges live downtown. Our, ah, more authentic, native beauties were supplemented by the brand name goddesses of the beauty industry. I didn’t realize that after the flowers would come the gourmet vegetables.

    Now I know that a Federal Judge bound for the Supreme Court is one of my neighbors. Her main restaurant is on the corner. If I start paying attention and she doesn’t go underground I’ll probably see her around. My mother might be impressed by this but on reflection I’m wondering where I went wrong that my neighborhood is where the Supreme Court Justices come from. Next it will be five star generals and the president of Halliburton. The village that was once a haven for the outcast and generator of cultural trends from the bottom up, is now the catbird seat.

    I welcome the jeers of my comrades, that this was happening long ago, before I was born, maybe, but certainly before I planted my outlander behind on sacred Village soil. All the decent artists, musicians all split last year or the middle of last century to the east village, soho, Williamsburg, and points east. The village I remember is not the village they remember, or fit to be mentioned in the same sentence.

    The village is where outcasts could reach critical mass, form a band, attract a following. Back home, even if it was only a matter of subway fare, the same material would just bring blank stares, nervous laughter, or even threats, sometimes followed by a beating. Here the social fabric could stretch, you could get lost in our neighborhood’s perverse anti-grid layout. Would anyone try to keep you out of a club, once you found your way beyond the grid, below Fourteenth Street? Hardly. The Stork Club was an uptown racket, strictly for the marks.

    Downtown was about the music, the in your face Off-Broadway, restaurants like Sea Fare, and the Coach House, a local paper that had a price and was worth it, and a vendor, Maurice, who would show up at the bars and restaurants on Tuesday nights, and Tuesday nights only with the fresh Voice, the one with the ads for apartments that would be snapped up by the official on sale date of that Wednesday.

    -30-

  14. Martha Thomases
    June 8, 2009 - 9:19 am

    Yes, life was better when we were young. Colors were brighter, tastes were sharper, and the music sweeter.

  15. pennie
    June 8, 2009 - 6:44 pm

    You said it sister!
    Then again maybe part were the psychotropics….

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