Thothmuffin
Don't get any crumbs on the scale of judgement.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
They just don't get it
THEY JUST DON'T GET IT
A Theatrical Essay
Setting: The local fast-food Japanese restaurant. Two middle-aged HVAC-type men, BASEBALL CAP and UNIFORM POLO, are eating lunch at a table together. DSL, THOTHMUFFIN eats alone, eavesdropping.
CAP: Yeah, but you know, they hold things against you. Like when you try to give them advice, just to help them, you know?
POLO: *chews noncommittally*
CAP: No, it's true. One day I was shaving my face with that pink stuff my wife uses on her legs, right.
POLO: *gives him a queer look*
CAP: Well, and it's all we had, right? So then I say to my wife, I say, "Why're you buying this expensive stuff?" And then I explained to her, "Look, honey, get Barbasol. Barbasol is only $0.88 a can, and yours is $2.79 just because it's pink." So after I told her that, she saw that it made good sense so she bought the Barbasol next time she went up to the store.
POLO: *nodding, swallowing* Yeah, that does make sense. Yeah.
CAP: But then, right, some whole other time later, she brought it up again, how I had forced her not to get the stuff she liked and she had to use Barbasol and it was like she was resenting it and all that. She should have just said something! Although it really doesn't make sense. You know, you try to help them, and it's like they don't get it!
POLO: *laughs* Yeah, what're you gonna do?
TM stands, unable to keep a smile off her face, smug with the realization that the woman's viewpoint is crystal clear to her. She knows how much confusion and queerness can be brought on by using a personal hygiene product that smells like the other gender. She also suspects WIFE is shaving her legs with pink, pretty-smelling stuff because she still wants CAP, for God knows what reason, to desire her and think she's attractive and pretty and feminine, and also possibly to feel like some naked, silk-draped, hairless Goddess of Abandon and Good Clean Sex, which really just means that the marketing is working.
Barbasol, of course, does not have any marketing; $0.88 is their marketing plan. Obviously this is good enough for CAP's ilk, which is probably a larger part of the population than the fussy, hedonist TM really wants to comprehend.
Personally, TM resents smelling like manly, astringent pickled ginger scents, and would much rather smell like sugary raspberries if she had to be in her own company all day, which she usually does.
She also wonders if there is some sort of award for longest and most useless stage direction, but is determined to muscle on although this clearly should have been an essay punctuated by dialogue, and not a theatrical vignette, though the material was all there for the stuff of high drama.
To refresh the reader's memory: TM stands, unable to keep a smile from her lips. As she turns to leave, she meets the eyes of another, older WOMAN eating alone, and in one of those phenomenal moments of utter connection, realizes that WOMAN has also been eavesdropping and is totally amused and astounded that the men have so self-righteously missed the reason why middle-aged married women continue to buy pink, pretty-smelling products.
There are no barriers in this moment, and TM is startled by the realization that they can read each other's minds in this instant simply because they were both raised as middle-class American women. Who needs telepathy when you have norms?
As TM leaves the restaurant, WOMAN also leaves and catches up to TM in the parking lot.
WOMAN: *catches TM's eyes and can no longer hold back her smile* Can you believe those two? They just don't get it.
TM: Yeah, I didn't know whether I wanted to explain it to them or just laugh at their confusion.
WOMAN: Yeah, what're you gonna do?
FIN
***
So let me pose you these questions, gentle audience: can men also read each other's minds? Would they bother, and would they make that connection and affirmation, form the solidarity against the folly of women where men are concerned? And is that maybe one of the good things about gender roles, that they give members of each gender a common understanding so fundamental that it has the potential to transcend all other difference of experience, background, and understanding?
Are You A Republican?
A Theatrical Essay
Setting: The local fast-food Japanese restaurant. Two middle-aged HVAC-type men, BASEBALL CAP and UNIFORM POLO, are eating lunch at a table together. DSL, THOTHMUFFIN eats alone, eavesdropping.
CAP: Yeah, but you know, they hold things against you. Like when you try to give them advice, just to help them, you know?
POLO: *chews noncommittally*
CAP: No, it's true. One day I was shaving my face with that pink stuff my wife uses on her legs, right.
POLO: *gives him a queer look*
CAP: Well, and it's all we had, right? So then I say to my wife, I say, "Why're you buying this expensive stuff?" And then I explained to her, "Look, honey, get Barbasol. Barbasol is only $0.88 a can, and yours is $2.79 just because it's pink." So after I told her that, she saw that it made good sense so she bought the Barbasol next time she went up to the store.
POLO: *nodding, swallowing* Yeah, that does make sense. Yeah.
CAP: But then, right, some whole other time later, she brought it up again, how I had forced her not to get the stuff she liked and she had to use Barbasol and it was like she was resenting it and all that. She should have just said something! Although it really doesn't make sense. You know, you try to help them, and it's like they don't get it!
POLO: *laughs* Yeah, what're you gonna do?
TM stands, unable to keep a smile off her face, smug with the realization that the woman's viewpoint is crystal clear to her. She knows how much confusion and queerness can be brought on by using a personal hygiene product that smells like the other gender. She also suspects WIFE is shaving her legs with pink, pretty-smelling stuff because she still wants CAP, for God knows what reason, to desire her and think she's attractive and pretty and feminine, and also possibly to feel like some naked, silk-draped, hairless Goddess of Abandon and Good Clean Sex, which really just means that the marketing is working.
Barbasol, of course, does not have any marketing; $0.88 is their marketing plan. Obviously this is good enough for CAP's ilk, which is probably a larger part of the population than the fussy, hedonist TM really wants to comprehend.
Personally, TM resents smelling like manly, astringent pickled ginger scents, and would much rather smell like sugary raspberries if she had to be in her own company all day, which she usually does.
She also wonders if there is some sort of award for longest and most useless stage direction, but is determined to muscle on although this clearly should have been an essay punctuated by dialogue, and not a theatrical vignette, though the material was all there for the stuff of high drama.
To refresh the reader's memory: TM stands, unable to keep a smile from her lips. As she turns to leave, she meets the eyes of another, older WOMAN eating alone, and in one of those phenomenal moments of utter connection, realizes that WOMAN has also been eavesdropping and is totally amused and astounded that the men have so self-righteously missed the reason why middle-aged married women continue to buy pink, pretty-smelling products.
There are no barriers in this moment, and TM is startled by the realization that they can read each other's minds in this instant simply because they were both raised as middle-class American women. Who needs telepathy when you have norms?
As TM leaves the restaurant, WOMAN also leaves and catches up to TM in the parking lot.
WOMAN: *catches TM's eyes and can no longer hold back her smile* Can you believe those two? They just don't get it.
TM: Yeah, I didn't know whether I wanted to explain it to them or just laugh at their confusion.
WOMAN: Yeah, what're you gonna do?
FIN
***
So let me pose you these questions, gentle audience: can men also read each other's minds? Would they bother, and would they make that connection and affirmation, form the solidarity against the folly of women where men are concerned? And is that maybe one of the good things about gender roles, that they give members of each gender a common understanding so fundamental that it has the potential to transcend all other difference of experience, background, and understanding?
Monday, May 02, 2005
That's Libertarian to you, sir!
58% Republican. | "Congratulations, you're a swing voter. When they say 'Nascar Dad', they mean you. Every Republican ad on the TV set was made just for your viewing pleasure. Don't you feel special?" |
