“So What *About* Me?” By Simon J Broome.
“So what about me?”
I’m British, y’see.
And Born and raised male,
Still living off parents at 32. Fail!
Hiding behind a shield of Fears,
It’s served me well for 20-odd years.
What’s a Funkyman to do?
“This world was not meant for one such as you…”
Do I want a job?
Do I want love?
Do I want to bond to the heavens above?
Terribly sorry, I only know me.
But part of my pain is in Kyriarchy.
Disdain for the world, sown from school.
5 years of hell, because I couldn’t play it cool.
And then there was IT.
the Terrible tale of a singular shit,
Whose life I would gladly end.
Or the nerve of the Scar-maker that though to call me “Friend”.
Grudges and bitterness colour my view,
If you have problems, then I feel for you.
Though my prosaic inelegance doth show,
If e’er you met me, a Gentleman you would know.
So what *about* me?
What quality to see?
I’ll do what I must,
And protest I’m not controlled by lust.
Since I’m called away to lunch,
I’ll eschew the traditional punch,
and End by simply stating,
Much as I can…
“I AM A MAN!!!”
Crossposted from my comment at NSWATM, a fine masculism Blog.
Showing posts with label ranting again. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ranting again. Show all posts
Saturday, 21 April 2012
Sunday, 12 February 2012
Po-faced lefties
I have an elder brother (by 3 years, ask no further), and on saturdays, we go to the local mall's food court and have lunch. Oftentimes I try to explain to him my view of a better world, and occasionally on one point or another, I get through.
More often than not though, the fact that there's a word for a specific behaviour or idea is met with the criticism of it having been created by "Po-faced pseudo-intellectuals". This infuriates me.
What madness is it to brand every new Idea an invention of "Po-faced Pseudo-intellectualism?" This is why I hate the anti-intellectualism of these times. I'm not looking down my nose at anyone in particular (well, maybe a few hate-filled Daily Mail columnists, but that's allowed) just because I have a word for the feeling you get when someone makes a homophobic/femmephobic joke in your presence. (mostly I just call it awkwardness and move on)
I entirely despise the role of Hypermasculinity in the modern world. Yes, HYPERmasculinity. Ordinary masculinity, be strong, don't go to pieces over the slightest thing, shed a few tears for the fallen, generally go around and be approachable, exchange a few words about the local sports team (usually Football for me), that's fine. I suppose it's a kind of central European masculinity.
Now, HYPERmasculinity, be THE STRONGEST, don't go to pieces over ANYTHING, shed NO tears for the fallen, generally go around AND DESTROY ALL WHO DISRESPECT YOU, DEFINE YOUR EXISTENCE about the local sports team, that I can't be doing with. It's a very American form of Masculinity, though I suppose the next few generations will oppose it.
I want to know, what's wrong with being weak? The strong will crush you? In the days when the whole world is watching, any move they make will be seen by millions, maybe billions across the globe. And if it is just one man, who would damn the consequences and plough through, he will meet the resistance of a thousand or more, and then all his rage and power will be for naught, as he is contained and left to stew. And nobody is strong enough to stand against what's right.
But this isn't about that.
This is about how Leftyism isn't "Po-faced". I don't think for a microsecond that this planet is doomed. I want everyone to be happy (well maybe not everyone, see my "Hey You" post), to live in a world without discrimination, even against the majority. I want a world of quiet clean cars (maybe even ones that fly, but that's another post), of quiet clean trains, of quiet clean everything.
I believe we can get there.
So why do you think I'm po-faced? Because maybe you're not as funny as you think you are. It's like, once you start noticing discrimination and bias against things, you can't unsee it. It's everywhere. In every facet of our daily lives. I don't laugh at your joke about the blind lesbian in the fish market, because it's ableist and homophobic. Don't think for a second that I have no sense of humour. I know funny. And it doesn't rely on your outdated stereotypes.
I can laugh, I can smile, I'm not entirely serious. I love fantasy and explosions as much as anyone, more than most in my own case! Just don't take me for a "pseudo-intellectual" because I can shorten a rambling description down into a single word. Conservation of Ninjitsu, folks. I haz it.
More often than not though, the fact that there's a word for a specific behaviour or idea is met with the criticism of it having been created by "Po-faced pseudo-intellectuals". This infuriates me.
What madness is it to brand every new Idea an invention of "Po-faced Pseudo-intellectualism?" This is why I hate the anti-intellectualism of these times. I'm not looking down my nose at anyone in particular (well, maybe a few hate-filled Daily Mail columnists, but that's allowed) just because I have a word for the feeling you get when someone makes a homophobic/femmephobic joke in your presence. (mostly I just call it awkwardness and move on)
I entirely despise the role of Hypermasculinity in the modern world. Yes, HYPERmasculinity. Ordinary masculinity, be strong, don't go to pieces over the slightest thing, shed a few tears for the fallen, generally go around and be approachable, exchange a few words about the local sports team (usually Football for me), that's fine. I suppose it's a kind of central European masculinity.
Now, HYPERmasculinity, be THE STRONGEST, don't go to pieces over ANYTHING, shed NO tears for the fallen, generally go around AND DESTROY ALL WHO DISRESPECT YOU, DEFINE YOUR EXISTENCE about the local sports team, that I can't be doing with. It's a very American form of Masculinity, though I suppose the next few generations will oppose it.
I want to know, what's wrong with being weak? The strong will crush you? In the days when the whole world is watching, any move they make will be seen by millions, maybe billions across the globe. And if it is just one man, who would damn the consequences and plough through, he will meet the resistance of a thousand or more, and then all his rage and power will be for naught, as he is contained and left to stew. And nobody is strong enough to stand against what's right.
But this isn't about that.
This is about how Leftyism isn't "Po-faced". I don't think for a microsecond that this planet is doomed. I want everyone to be happy (well maybe not everyone, see my "Hey You" post), to live in a world without discrimination, even against the majority. I want a world of quiet clean cars (maybe even ones that fly, but that's another post), of quiet clean trains, of quiet clean everything.
I believe we can get there.
So why do you think I'm po-faced? Because maybe you're not as funny as you think you are. It's like, once you start noticing discrimination and bias against things, you can't unsee it. It's everywhere. In every facet of our daily lives. I don't laugh at your joke about the blind lesbian in the fish market, because it's ableist and homophobic. Don't think for a second that I have no sense of humour. I know funny. And it doesn't rely on your outdated stereotypes.
I can laugh, I can smile, I'm not entirely serious. I love fantasy and explosions as much as anyone, more than most in my own case! Just don't take me for a "pseudo-intellectual" because I can shorten a rambling description down into a single word. Conservation of Ninjitsu, folks. I haz it.
Wednesday, 21 December 2011
Hey you!
Hey!
Hey you!
Yes, you. No, not the stranger on the corner. No, not the dude with the bible. No man, not the woman with the blonde hair in the cute hat with ears. I'm talking to YOU.
Do you know who you are? You're the guy that fucked over my mind. You're the guy who mocked me in school. You're the asshole who's responsible for my view of all your kind. And you know what? I'm not okay with that.
You think I want an apology? I wouldn't accept it, even if I thought you were sincere.
You think I want blood? I'd just end up as another crazy serial killer, or the subject of some TV real-life drama.
You think I want to destroy you utterly, because I'm jealous that you made it, and I didn't? How did you make it? How's that millionaire thing comin' along, sport? Oh right, YOU'RE NOT A MILLIONAIRE. You're just as much of a screw-up as I am. Maybe more of one. I'm not jealous because you grew up and I didn't. I'm not jealous because you're waist-deep in the varying grotesqueries of this world, and I'm not. I'm not even jealous that your job brings you money. After all the bills, I'm surprised you have any left!
So what do I want? Why am I writing you, this anonymous gestalt of all my secondary-school tormentors, an open letter on the internet? Because it's been 20 years. 20 years ago, my first term of secondary school was just about up. And I learned the harsh lesson that I know to this day. People suck. And you taught me that. You taught me that the vast majority of this planet isn't fit to lick the dirt from my shoes, though they think precisely the opposite.
You taught me that there is no intrinsic value in trying to gain friendships, because I'll always be betrayed.
You taught me, that knowing words, and having feelings, and being who I am, is a waste of time. You taught me that the gays are reprehensible, and football is king, and that cars are all there is.
You taught me that my voice is stupid, and that my mannerisms are comical
You taught me that all my coping mechanisms were fodder for your amusement.
I'd say Fuck you, but that Isn't strong enough. Hell, I'd TAKE the blood, but it'd never be enough. And when you, my gestalt secondary-school adversary, were gone, what would stop me from going after the trolls of the internet that taught me that I can't escape dickishness? And from there, anyone who'd ever shouted at me in the street? Anyone who looked at me strangely? Anyone who WASN'T ME? No, If I start down that road, I'll never stop.
So take a look. I have a heapin' helpin' of forgiveness on this table right here. But this is as close as you're ever going to get to it. Because I'm paying it forward. Instead of wasting my forgiveness on you, who'd do it all over again in a heartbeat, I'm giving my forgiveness to teenagers who ended up outside school.
So enjoy your life: Screaming kids, demanding boss, nagging wife. I wish you a long and prosperous working career. I got off lightly. You're gonna suffer way more than I ever did.
Hey you!
Yes, you. No, not the stranger on the corner. No, not the dude with the bible. No man, not the woman with the blonde hair in the cute hat with ears. I'm talking to YOU.
Do you know who you are? You're the guy that fucked over my mind. You're the guy who mocked me in school. You're the asshole who's responsible for my view of all your kind. And you know what? I'm not okay with that.
You think I want an apology? I wouldn't accept it, even if I thought you were sincere.
You think I want blood? I'd just end up as another crazy serial killer, or the subject of some TV real-life drama.
You think I want to destroy you utterly, because I'm jealous that you made it, and I didn't? How did you make it? How's that millionaire thing comin' along, sport? Oh right, YOU'RE NOT A MILLIONAIRE. You're just as much of a screw-up as I am. Maybe more of one. I'm not jealous because you grew up and I didn't. I'm not jealous because you're waist-deep in the varying grotesqueries of this world, and I'm not. I'm not even jealous that your job brings you money. After all the bills, I'm surprised you have any left!
So what do I want? Why am I writing you, this anonymous gestalt of all my secondary-school tormentors, an open letter on the internet? Because it's been 20 years. 20 years ago, my first term of secondary school was just about up. And I learned the harsh lesson that I know to this day. People suck. And you taught me that. You taught me that the vast majority of this planet isn't fit to lick the dirt from my shoes, though they think precisely the opposite.
You taught me that there is no intrinsic value in trying to gain friendships, because I'll always be betrayed.
You taught me, that knowing words, and having feelings, and being who I am, is a waste of time. You taught me that the gays are reprehensible, and football is king, and that cars are all there is.
You taught me that my voice is stupid, and that my mannerisms are comical
You taught me that all my coping mechanisms were fodder for your amusement.
I'd say Fuck you, but that Isn't strong enough. Hell, I'd TAKE the blood, but it'd never be enough. And when you, my gestalt secondary-school adversary, were gone, what would stop me from going after the trolls of the internet that taught me that I can't escape dickishness? And from there, anyone who'd ever shouted at me in the street? Anyone who looked at me strangely? Anyone who WASN'T ME? No, If I start down that road, I'll never stop.
So take a look. I have a heapin' helpin' of forgiveness on this table right here. But this is as close as you're ever going to get to it. Because I'm paying it forward. Instead of wasting my forgiveness on you, who'd do it all over again in a heartbeat, I'm giving my forgiveness to teenagers who ended up outside school.
So enjoy your life: Screaming kids, demanding boss, nagging wife. I wish you a long and prosperous working career. I got off lightly. You're gonna suffer way more than I ever did.
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