Random Rants from an Insane Butch Bunny

I'm sure we're all familiar with the Christian doctors that refuse to supply condoms, birth control, abortions or emergency contraception?

No?

Well, it's true.  I don't know how widespread it is here at home and elsewhere but in America it appears to be quite the thing at the moment.

The concept goes like this.  (Don's fake moustache and lab coat to assume temporary false identity of doctor).

Well, I am a doctor.  I am also a Christian and follow the advice of my pastor.  I am pro-life and believe that abortion is murder.  It is my honest belief that the use of condoms, birth control, emergency contraception and abortions are immoral and go against God's plan.  Of course, neither I nor my wife would ever think of using such things.  I certainly wouldn't agree to prescribe such a service to any patient of mine.  And you can't force me to, either, since that would be discrimination aainst my religion.  Would you force a devout Jew to disobey he laws of his or her God?  A Muslim?  Then why me?  Why victimise Christians like that?

Basically, the argument is that you cannot force said doctor to prescribe something he or she feels goes against their own religion. 

The problem is that the doctor is, effectively, forcing their own religious views onto others.  This may include, but is not limited to nor dependent upon:

• Refusing emergency contraception to a rape victim.
• Refusing to provide an abortion to a woman with an ectopic pregnancy.
• Refusing to supply the pill to a teenager suffering from chronic period pains or other medical conditions which the pill can assist with besides pregnancy prevention.
• Refusing to discuss tubal ligations with a woman unless her husband is present, or simply refusing outright.
• Failing to advise their patient of the location of alternative sources of these items.

Now, in the UK that would be pretty bad.  But  know that if my Doc refused to provide the treatment I needed, I could go to the walk-in clinic down the road, or to the sexual health centre in town, or take a bus or train to the nearest hospital, and get the care I needed.  This might not always be practical- I might end up missing more than one day of work looking for healthcare, or may incur large transport costs, but it is possible.

In America, not everyone can do that.  People with medical insurance may only be covered for one visit a year, and going to the doctor, asking for medical care and being told to naff off?  That can count as your one visit.  So the visit to the next stop will cost you.  And they might refuse to service you as well.  People without medical insurance may be asked to pay up front to the doctor for the visit, before finding out that they won't get the care they need.  So someone on a low income, for whom the healthcare itself is already going to be a financial burden, might well be stuck.

There is also no requirement for the doctor's to cleary display their beliefs before a person signs up with them.  So unless you have the foresight and the free time to quiz a doctor- and go elsewhere if they won't provide the service you need- you won't necesarily realise that this is a problem until too late.

*

Now, it may just be me, but if I knew that I had a religious belief that prevented me from doing certain things, or aiding other people in doing them, then I would be sure to steer clear from work that might conflict with this.  I would say that when one makes the decision to take up a career, or live a certain lifestyle, one must accept conflicts with one's religion or else look eslewhere for employment.  I would say that to act in any other way would mean forcing one's own beliefs on others, and is an act of religious discrimination in and of itself.

But since this appears to not be the case, how about we twist this up a bit?

Religious rights and freedom don't just count for Christians, after all.

Do you belong to a religion that eschews the consumption of meat? alcohol? dairy? non-kosher or otherwise incorrectly prepared foods?  Work in the food industry?  Well, the next time someone approaches you wanting some chicken, or some bacon, or a case of beer, refuse to sell.  Advise them that the consumption of such items is against your religion and you feel moraly unable to assist with their sinning.

Do you belong to a religion that considers violence to be utterly reprehensible?  Why not take up a career in a gun shop, and refuse to sell any ammo with the weapons you sell?

Fellow Pagans!  Refuse to work during any of the eight major festivals.  State that this should not be taken from your holiday allowance.  After all, Christians get various holidays throughout the year.

Get a job in a library, and refuse to allow people to take out any books which go against your beliefs.  Like scientific texts.  Or atheistic books.  Or books with sinful acts in them.  Or religious texts for religions other than your own.

Nothing that might actually pose a risk to the person you refuse a service too, of course.  These doctors may do that, but the point of this isn't to hurt anyone else and doing so would make you just as bad as them.  No, the point here is just to illustrate that this concept is unworkable.

How long do you think it would take?  How long before there is an outcry against religious "minorities" trying to take over and force their views upon others?

And when you get challenged?

"Well, Christian doctors can leave a woman to die of an ectopic pregnancy by refusing to allow an abortion, so I don't see how Joe over there having to go to the next cashier to buy his sausages is a problem.  If you force me to sell the items, you are committing religious discrimination.  Same deal if you fire me or discipline me for this.  Hey, I don't make the rules!  The Christian Doctors have shown me that I'm allowed to protect my own beliefs.  Talk to them if you have a problem."

*

And in the pretty little rainbow world in my head, people all over would suddenly realise the hypocrisy and ridiculousness of the situation and would make things right again.

Unfortunately, I realise that in the real world that just wouldn't happen, and people who do the above probably would just get fired, or the situation would blow up in the media and result in religious minorities being targetted more by racist bigots, and poor people in low-end jobs trying to take action would just get shafted.

But I can dream, right?

It IS possible to have a woman naked, threatened, and not have the scene be exploitative. 
It is possible for a clothed man to threaten a naked woman and for the scene to not cry "RAPE!". 
It is possible to show a woman in a vulnerable situation without turning her into a crying, shivering and useless weakling. 
It is possible for a female character to be both vulnerale and strong at the same time. 
It is possible for a woman to appear strong in a sexual situation.
It is possible for a man to assault a woman without me fearing rape or sexual assault.
It is possible for a violent scene to be sexy and dangerous and still show women positively.
It is possible for nudity, threats, power play and vulnerability to co-exist in a scene with both men and women in without sexism, or misogyny.

See?

That right there is an example of getting it right.  Jessica is still damn sexy in this scene, but she loses none of her powerful.  She comes off as powerful, dangerous and in control even whilst being assaulted naked in her shower.  Wolverine comes off as dangerous and powerful and good at this sort of thing, without being a pervert or a rapist.

This is an example of getting it right.

And no, I don't mean "follow this to the letter or else".   I mean, look at what makes this scene powerful and active and exciting and look at what makes other, similar, scenes look exploitative and rape-y.  Then take the best bits of this scene, cut out the worst bits of rape-y scenes, and maybe use these concepts as a basis from which to build future scenes.

And you know what?  This is important, too.

I like Wolverine.  He's bad, he's tough, he's mean and he's a rough-around-the-edges hard-bodied bear of a man.  ANd damn if that isn't sexy.  But if this scene had been rape-y?  Suddenly Wolverine becomes a rapist, or just someone who sexually assaults women.  Suddenly he isn't so sexy any more.  And suddenly, I don't want to read about this character any more.

So.

Here is kudos for taking a difficult scene and doing a bloody good job with it.

More, please!

I browsed a few blogs whilst taking a break from yet-more-packing, and just picked up on something that I have to share.

Anyone who hs been reading my blog, or has glanced at more than 2-3 pages, will know that I am fat.  I'm a UK size 14-16 and have struggled with my weight for as long as I can remember.

I am scared to go to see my doctor.  Not because I think I have anything specifcially wrong with me, no.  But because every visit, whatever it is initially for, becomes focussed on my weight within minutes. 

I don't know how GP surgeries work elsewhere, but here we have group surgeries.  7-8 doctors in one building, each with a little office of their own.  And when you sign up, you sign up for all of them; each appointment you make, unless you specifically ask an are lucky enough to be the first caller of the day, you will get to see one of the doctors, but will not be given a choice.  With the staff turnaround in this place, and with how infrequently I visit, I've never seen the same doctor twice.

This means that, every single time I enter, I have to answer the same list of questions.  Do I know what my weight is?  Do I realise how high that puts me on the BMI scale?  Am I trying to lose weight?  Have  tried in the past?  Why/why not?  What am I trying to do to lose weight?  Why aren't I doing more?  What history of heart disease, diabetes, etc does my family have?  Am I not concerned about developing health problems?  How long have I been this overweight?  Then, whatever I happened to come in for, I am advised that my weight is probably to blame.  Regardless of what it is.  Because a size 14 is so disgustingly, scarily overweight that obviously my body can't cope and is giving up the ghost.  At 23 years of age.

So now, I don't see a doctor unless I can avoid it.  I had my tonsils out when I was a child, due to repeated and increasingly severe bouts of tonsilitis.  I almost bled to death in recovery because the operation as botched, and now I regularly get very bad chest/throat infections.  Usually I'll get about 5 or 6 chesty coughs a year, with inflamed nodules on the tongue that get so big they constrict breathing and irritate my uvula.  Also I lose my voice regularly, and every little cold or infection goes straight to my throat.  But I've never seen a doctor about it.

Back problems run in my family.  I have a bit of an extreme curve to my lower back and, with my inheritied out-of-proportion large breasts, and subsequent twisted posture, I tend to get a lot of pain in my back.  I did see a doctor for this, around about the point where I could only actually move my right arm fully, my left arm from the elbow down, and my legs so long as I didn't use my hips.  My doctor told me that the back pain was due to my weight, and that I had to lose weight and take painkillers in the meantime.  I managed to get some physiotherapy eventually, and the physiotherapist diagnosed the real cause.  My natural weak back damaged further by  the awkward sleeping position I have to use due to my breasts, further exacerbated by some recent heavy lifting, resulting in sprained and torn muscles around the shoulderblades.  30 minutes of massage and a simple selection of easy-to-do stretches have prevented me from getting that bad again, and even allowing me to lift weights again.  If I hadn't seen that physiotherapist I would've spent months off of work, trying to lose weight without the ability to exercise because I couldn't move.  Instead, I had 2 weeks off work and haven't needed painkillers since.

This is just one example.  I can think of several others in recent memory, where I've gone for help with some complaint and had it turn into yet another tirade about my weight.  I've left the doctors in tears more than once, and a few times I've felt so bad I've tried to starve myself for several days afterwards.  Because every time I thought about eating something I felt like a disgusting fat pig, and suddenly felt ill.

As a result of this, I now only go to see a doctor when I am so ill that I can barely walk the 250 yards to the surgery.  When I'm seriously injured or violently ill.  And because I can't have time off of work without a doctor-signed sick note, I go into work when I should be at home, healing.  So I spend more time unwell when I do get sick.

In addition, having struggled with my weight for years, and having tried so many weight loss techniques without success, I can't help but wonder if I might benefit from a serious, non-judgemental visit to discuss my weight.  There might be a reason why I can't lose it, beyond genetics and "being lazy".  But no way am I going to do that.

So I really, really sympathised when I read this.

Not only is this a heart-wrenching story, but the woman who posted it was incredibly brave and has my sympathy.  The doctor that treated her mother did serious damage.

What really got to me, however, was the reams of comments from other people  who've experienced the same problems.  Here are just a few.

 I have PCOS and am overweight. My husband and I had serious infertility and loss issues. I was told by several OBGYNS to loose weight and I’d get pregnant. If only it was that simple.

 Weight Loss.  The magical cure for everything!

  went through a disturbing incident last winter when my husband, Jeff, suffered two bad falls on the ice in less than a month. The orthepedic surgeon he was referred to didn’t want to write him out of work or even do an MRI because he was just looking at my husband has a fat, out-of-control man who he couldn’t help at all until he lost 130 lbs! Jeff weighed at that point 350 lbs, the doctor ordered him down to “at least” 220 lbs before he could really treat his condition!

Fortunately, he was referred to a physical therapist who was very good to him, and rather than view him as lazy, viewed him as one of his most hard working and dilligent patients. He was the one who insisted that Jeff take some disability time for his recovery. My God, the man could hardly walk, he simply was in no condition to make it in until he had a chance to heal from the accidents! But that one doctor just wanted him to go to work like that, as some kind of punishment for being fat.

 Being "punished" for being fat by being denied healthcare is, sadly, something that happens all too often.

 My mom has been getting very sick over the years and refused to go to the doctor because she didn’t want to be belittled for her weight. But I have a wonderful doctor so I pressured her and pressured her and she finally went to see her a few months ago. Afterwards I asked her how it went and my mom just started crying, “She was just so…kind…”

 No one should have to feel so grateful just for being treated like a human being.

 My father’s discomfort with going to the doctor (a lot of which has to do with his weight) resulted in undiagnosed lung cancer. Luckily, it was successfully treated with surgery, but he’d probably had this for over a year before it was discovered.

 My back was painful, but serious conditions are going undiagnosed.

 My MIL met a similar fate, not going to the doctor when she was panting like a German Shepherd just walking to her car, and when I told her that was NOT “normal,” she said she wasn’t going to bother going to the doctor about it because when she mentioned it to him before she’d just gotten the “lose weight and it will go away” lecture. And next thing I knew, she was dead.

 This problem is killing people.

 I remember bursting into tears at the doctor’s office about 10 years ago…because she was kind to me. Simply kind. She did a comprehensive physical and asked about all sorts of things not related to my weight. For the first time at the doctor since becoming fat, I felt like I was actually receiving health care, not just scolding for being fat. It was so transformational to be treated with care and kindness rather than hostility and shame, I was overwhelmed with emotion.

 Another person who was made to feel so ashamed of her weight that the first kind doctor drove her to tears.

 Doctors tried to do the same to me, too. I’d been sick for years, but they couldn’t find anything wrong with me. Just told me I needed to lose weight and learn to relax. Gave me antidepressants. For years this went on and finally? I got tired of putting myself through it. So I stopped going to doctors too. And then my aunt died and, once I got over being horribly sad, I got mad. Extremely mad. And I finally, finally found a doctor who would listen to me. (And yes, like so many others, I started to sob in her office because I was so expecting her to dismiss me.) And within a month, I was diagnoised with Lupus and Fibromylgia. My test scores were so high initially that they were afraid I was having organ damage.

 Yet again, serious conditions went undiagnosed.  This time, however, it wasn't through avoidance of medical care, but by the refusal to look for a diagnosis that isn't related to weight.

 What I have to add doesn’t parallel it in severity obviously, but I thought I should add my own experiences to the discourse. I’ve suffered from a rare and life-threatening respiratory disease for nearly ten years now (since I was in my late teen years). While I always struggled my weight, I crossed the 200 lb. mark due to steroids. Once I got truly fat, I couldn’t get doctors to take my disease seriously anymore. I was literally passing out from lack of oxygen at one point because they refused to acknowledge the severity to which my breathing had become compromised. All they could see was the weight *that they had caused me to gain.* Although my graduate school performance never suffered in terms of grades, the in-class difficulties I faced were never excused because I was - let’s face it - considered ugly. Life was hell. When I got a spot of melanoma, I had a doctor leave a ragged, keloid 5-inch scar with stitch marks (prone to infections and splitting open) instead of using a skin expander like she should have because, what did it matter? It would be covered with clothes. God forbid I ever want to take them off in front of someone. I’ve been starving myself at about 600-800 calories for several years to get to a low weight where my collarbones and cheekbones pop and my stomach is flat. I’m not underweight, but I look thin now (calories in, calories out, my ass-I should be invisible). My disease, at this weight, makes me look nearly as sick as I am, all black circles and veins and frailty. And, finally, I get proper medical treatment without judgment. In other words, I have to hurt my body to get it help.

 

 I’m 54 years old, ‘morbidly obese, and I haven’t seen a doctor in four years. The last time I went was when I had taken a six mile hike, gotten covered with tick’s and developed Lyme Disease. By the time I got to the Doctor, I’d been running a 102-3 degree fever for almost two days and my blood tests came back with elevated liver enzymes. Immediately, and despite that I had saved all the ticks that bit me, he said the spike in liver enzymes was due to chronic gall bladder disease secondary to morbid obesity. He wanted to take my gall bladder out! But since I’m a nurse and it was my dime, I told him to treat me for Lyme and (to be on the safe side) ehrlichiosis, another tick-borne disease. Grudgingly, he did so. Voila! A week later I was nearly 100 percent cured and a month later my liver panel showed normal values across the board. I remain fat, healthy and active to this day.

 

 I am about your mother’s size and it is difficult to live in a world that has decided that you are bad because your body is out of style. I am so lucky that my slender little doctor is not a fat hater, never tells me I need to lose weight because she can see that dieting doesn’t work for me. How I wish that your mother could have had a doctor like mine.

 Just repeat that one bit.  "I am so lucky that my doctor is not a fat hater".  Lucky.

 y mom tried to get help from the doctors for years and they just shook their heads and said they couldn’t figure out what was wrong until she had to be transfused with blood a number of times. Now she lives with painful edema that won’t go away and the doctors just tell her to lose weight and it will go away. My dad is afraid to go under the knife to get a defibulator for his heart and I don’t blame him, even though it might save his life. But did I mention that the reason his heart isn’t working right is because he was afraid to go to the doctor a few years ago after a cold kept bothering him and he ended up with congestive heart failure and a stay in the hospital.

 

 my mother was fat all her life and got the “you need to lose weight” lecture from doctors all her life, and developed an understandable aversion to going to the doctor as a result.

So, when she felt the lump in her breast, it was easier for her mind to persuade her it wasn’t something to worry about or to see the doctor about… The cancer was Stage 4 by the time she finally did.

 

 Several years ago, I asked a gastroenterologist about symptoms I was having. Now, I don’t normally mention symptoms anyway, when I’m fat or before I was fat, because of other problems. But I mentioned them this time.

He did not do an examination. He basically told me that I ate too much (I didn’t), that I obviously wasn’t following the diet I was supposed to (I was, a medical diet not a weight-loss diet — he managed to elicit the idea from me that I liked some of the foods I was prohibited, so he decided to claim that I ate them, over my protests that I didn’t), that my problems were because I was fat (I’d had them even while super-skinny), and because I was obviously sedentary and lazy (I was sedentary due to a pain condition, but I was not lazy, and I’d had the problems since back when I used to be extremely physically active).

I asked him, “What if that’s not the problem? I had these problems when I was both skinny and active, too.”

He snapped, “That’s what it always is for everybody else.” Then he slammed the door in my face and stomped away.

Two years later I had emergency gallbladder surgery because the symptoms were of the early-onset gallbladder disease that runs in my family. My gallbladder had produced two large stones and shut down entirely by the time the surgeon got in there. He was furious and said he was going to send an angry letter to the gastroenterologist.

 This issue is killing people, and leaving people with serious, undiagnosed conditions.  It seriously has to stop.

Oh, and FYI for any commentors.  I do not want to hear any one try and remind me that "well yes, but being fat is bad for you" or any of that crap.  I'm not stupid.  But, at the end of the day, being a few pounds overweight can't be anywhere near as harmful as undiagnosed lupus, cancer, gall bladder problems, heart failure. lymes disease, and who knows what else.

I, for one, am sick of being treated like I have less value because of my weight.

Just a quick warning- I'm moving soon, so might not have much time to post on here. Apologies in advance for the soon-to-occur radio silence.

I have realised, just today, that a friend of mine, C is suffering from a terminal case of Nice GuyTM Syndrome.  I'm not entirely sure what, if anything, I should do or say.  He has recently gone through (and, technically, still is going through) an initially mutual but eventually messy break-up with L.  At times like that, I like to give my friends a little leeway.  He's feeling bitter and is venting about it, and I can understand that.

Today, C posted something on his blog about "Being a Nice Guy".  He'd found it elsewhere, and was just duplicating it.  Here's some excerpts, although it's all fairly standard Nice GuyTM fare.

 This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores.

Now, I could be wrong, here.  But, somehow, something about this first section doesn't quite fit.  Oh, wait, I see it.  These "Nice Guys" think of the complaints of their female friends as "whining and bitching".  That's it.

And yeah, maybe some women do whine and complain and make generalising, sweeping statements about men.  But... if you're the "Nice Guy" then... aren't you supposed to not think of people you, supposeduly, are close to, as whiney bitches?

 This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they're at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway

So... you're supposed to get brownie points now for not raping your friends when they are in a vulnerable situation and putting their trust in you?  I would've assumed that that was the bare minimum of polite human behaviour between friends.

So now we get to hear a little about the manipulating and misleading.

 This is also for that time she didn't have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing "serious" between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: "oh, but we're just friends!" And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you're nice like that.

Well, now, that is bad.  Or at least, shameless filirting that you don't want is bad, anyway.  Taking a male friend to a party after assuring him that you're only going as friends, though?  Is there any reason two people of opposite genders can't go somewhere together without it being about sex?  Then again, rather than putting up with the unwelcome flirting, bad beer and embarrassment, maybe you could take your friend aside and explain that, as much as you want to be here for her, you feel uncomfortable when she treats you like that.  Why would you put up with that sort of treatment in silence?

 The nice guys don't often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don't seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can't. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches.

  Aha!  That's why.  Sex.

So, a nice and fairly archetypal example of Nice Guy-ism.  The Nice Guy is kind and caring and helpful to his female friends.  He listens to their problems and silently puts up with any misdemeanour.  He opens doors and offers a shoulder and refrains from committing rape.  But... he isn't getting any sex out of it.  And, damnit he should be!  Those girls owe him access to their cunts for all the nice things he's done!

Oh, wait.  So this "Nice Guy" wasn't actually doing those things because he is nice, but because he expects payment in return.  Payment in sex.

And when those girls fail to put out like they're supposed to, our Nice Guys get bitter.  Clearly, these uppity girls are manipulating him and are really just bitches, damn them!

That... doesn't sound like a nice guy.  Sounds more like an arse.

If we take a few basic points from this rant, what we end up with is a guy who thinks of all his female friends as potential fuck-buddies.  His friendships with them are all conducted with the assumption/hope that one or more of them will have sex with him at some point.  He doesn't actually see these women as friends, but as targets.  As trophies to be won if he scores enough do-gooding points.  And when he keeps on doing nice things to earn his points, and still gets no trophy, he starts thinking of these women as manipulative bitches, and whiners. 

So, we end up with someone who simultaneously fantasises about and hates all the women he socialises with, and who continues to socialise with them out of hope of getting sex, and who acts nice in the hope of achieving this.

Not good.

I like C, and I want to be there for him whilst he's dealing with a break-up but... after reading this and other similar items from his blog, I find mysef comparing this break-up to a previous one.

In this instance, one of the reasons for his anger is that L, after breaking up with him, started seeing a friend of his, M.  They both kept it secret.  C is angry in the first instance that they hid this from him.  In the second instance, he is angry that a friend is now dating his ex.  In C's opinion, you keep your hands off of someone else's ex.

In fact, in a previous break-up he responded to a similar instance a little more... explosively.  He saw an ex cuddling up to another man- whom he didn't know, a couple of months after he break-up- by kicking the guy so hard in the kidneys he peed blood.

I can't help but wonder if, maybe, this might have something to do with all the secrecy between L and M?

My friend clearly has issues with seeing women as his property.  Any woman that lets him close belongs to him, even after they split.  He's happy to let an "amicable break-up" happen, so long as the women mourn losing him and stay single and potentially open for a return to their relationship.  As soon as they do the healthy thing and move on, he decries how terrible and hurtful it is they they led him on by trying to stay friends after the split, and how he no longer wants anything to do with them.

The whole thing is cyclical.  C acts like a wonderful guy and, eventually, gets noticed by a female friend.  They hook up, but for whatever reason it doesn't last.  Now, I can confirm from what other women have told me that C is a great guy to be in a relationship with.  He's easygoing, considerate and fun.  So there isn't, specifically, anything glaringly wrong that he does to cause a break-up.

So, anyway.  C gets a girlfriend.  Then they break up.  He always states that he wants to be friends, and they still get along great, etc, after the split.  For a few weeks.  Then his ex will do... something... and suddenly the situation explodes.

I want to help my friend.  I want to help him to understand that he'll have much healthier relationships with women, and have less strife and angst, if he just stops looking at them as possessions.  But I don't want to insult him, and I don't want to piss him of right now, after everything he's been going through.

Can anyone suggest a way to approach he subject delicately?  Or should I just leave him be, put up with his occassional misogyny, and wash my hands of him if he ever steps over the line?

 

 

I realise that, to a lot of people, the whole "boobs don't work that way" debate/discussion/rant may seem somewhat... pointless?

Fantasy is fantasy, and people in a position of selling fantasies need to be able to diverge from reality in order to sell a compelling fantasy.  And that is all fair enough, all well and good.

I could, of course, comment on the fact that, if comics were marketted as sex fantasies instead of fantasies for all ages, things would be different, but  would like to make a different point.

Fantasy is no longer compelling when it becomes so fantastical that you become distracted from the plot.

For example, female characters in comics are, occassionally, drawn in clothing so skintight that their nipples, bellybutton and camel-toe are clearly visible, albeit technically covered by molecule-thick latex.  This is distracting.  How distracting?

Imagine if Superman's costume looked like this.

Or perhaps not even that much?  What if, in every scene, whatever he was doing, Batman's costume looked like this around the groin?

What if Flash' costume were reduced to an improbably-bulging cup, with no visible straps or other ways for it to be attached securely to the body, in such a way that the bulge would be that bulgy?  Oh, and a little circle over each nipple.  And thigh-boots.  Sexy?  Maybe.  Really, really distracting from the plot?

Oh yeah, and at every opportunity/excuse Flash arches his body so the bulging cup sticks out even more, clenching his arse-cheeks and pouting.  And whenever he fights he high-kicks in a way that, logically, his balls should be dangling out of the bottom of that thing by now, and visible for all to see.

Here, have a 30-second scribble-jobbie.

I call him Phallus Man.  He's leaning on an invisible something...  Yeah... he's relaxing.

Are all comics like that?  Of course not.  But whenever you picked up a comic and saw something like that, wouldn't you find it distracting?  Wouldn't you be thinking more about the ridiculous costume, or the discomfort, or how impractical it would be, or how you just didn't really waht Flash' junk swinging about in your face, than about the action and the plot and the parts of the fantasy that make it appealing to you?  Would it add to the fantasy, or take you out of the fantasy?

I have large breasts.  Very large breasts.  When I go bra shopping, my equivalent of excitement at a good bra is "Ooh!  Steel wire mesh inlays, flexible underwires, extra-support straps!  And they managed to fit a bit of lace on there somewhere!  And ooh, only £40?  Yes please!".  When I see a superhero with breasts the same size as, or even larger, than my own, wearing nipple-tassles or a tiny, skimpy bra or something that barely covers the nipples and has no straps.  And she's running/jumping/spinning?  I keep thinking two things.

Ouch!  She's gonna end up with torn, bruised chest-skin!  Ooh!  I felt that jolt!

And...

How, exactly, are they still upright?  And inside that thing?  That top isn't supporting her, it's suspended off of her!

That sort of thing takes me out of the fantasy.  And that is why I get frustrated when I see another example of how boobs don't work.  It goes beyond artistic styles, creative license, fantasy-physics.  It enters the realm of the ridiculous.

Hmmm... maybe I should do some more Phallus Man pictures...

Who needs artistic talent when I can just keep drawing crotch...

Have just read a post over at Pretty, Fizzy Paradise (Ye Gods, I love that name!) in response to an ongoing interweb debate about feminism and comics.  The linky just there takes you to the specific post.

Reading this, I saw a lot of myself in those words.

As a child, I was not aware of what feminism is.  My definition of racism was simplistic, I don't recall hearing or noticing the word "sexist" before I hit puberty, and I was, being somewhat gender-blind, not very quick on the uptake when it comes to gender politics.

But I still knew when something was sexist.  Or racist.  Or otherwise discriminatory against race/gender/religion/physical fitness/appearance etc.

My concept of racism was limited to simplistic ideals; people saying the N word, people being violent or or unkind to some one who wasn't white, bullying them, etc.  But, when I saw some of the old Tom and Jerry or Loony Tunes cartoons on TV, I still got a distinctly bad feeling in my gut.  And if you don't know exactly the sort of episodes I'm referring to here then you're a lucky, coddled person.  The Censored Eleven are really just the tip of the iceberg.

And I was aware that boys and girls were treated differently.  I noticed and, from my point of view, boys seemed to get the better part of the deal.

How many girls can recall an instance like the following in their childhood?

• Being told to close their legs whilst sitting down, even though they were wearing jeans?  At the same time as boys nearby were sat with their legs splayed like they had a nasty rash down there?
• Being forbidden from climbing trees or playing on a rope-swing because it's too dangerous?  Whilst boys were playing on it?
• Being told off for raising their voice in an argument/debate/discussion?  When you were still being quieter than your brother?
• Being told of for using foul language?  Whilst people laugh at the naughty words a boy was using?
• Being made to wear a pretty dress for a party, and then being told you can't take part in some of the games/eat icecream/play with paints/play in the garden because you'll dirty your dress?
• Being told off for misbehaviour that is considered normal behaviour for boys?
• Being allowed to "help" daddy do some DIY, only to find that your version of "helping" means watching, never touching, never handling the tools and perhaps bringing daddy a cup of tea?  When the boys you know of the same age are all allowed to use power tools, albeit "under supervision"?
• Being told you could pick any toy you wanted, only to find that this was prefixed with "so long as it's a dolly or a teddy bear or something pink" when you try to ask for a toy truck or dinosaur?
• Being told that the comics you read or your favourite toys are "for boys" and that yu should like playing house with dollies?
• Having adults assume that you want to be a mummy when you grow up, even though you're only 9 years old?
• Having strangers give you and your parents a dirty look if you walk out in public with scruffy hair, scuffed knees or dirt on your face, when boys in worse condition don't even get a glance?  Feeling ashamed or embarrassed as a result?
• Being given considerably more chores to do than your brothers?  Being called selfish if you question this?
• Wishing you were a boy, or feeling treated unfairly when adults are judging you against a boy?  (For example, after a fight which no adult sees, you are accused of getting upset or being overtired if you don't just give up and let the boy win).
• Realising, when a relative or family friend notices your tomboyishness, that they are disappointed in you.
• Being told off more for being bad at English or Art or Cooking or Sewing classes than when you do badly at Maths or Science?
• Having it assumed that, if you want to go into medicine, that you want to be a nurse?
• Having it assumed that, if you love flying and aeroplanes, that you want to be an air hostess?

And how many of us were painfully aware that, if only we'd been born boys, we wouldn't have to put up with that?  (Okay, I know now that being a boy comes with a whole sack-load of other baggage and expectations, but we're talking about childhood here).

When the girl hero on TV, or in a comic or book, wears pink and acts ditzy, we noticed.  When the girl character only ever talked about boys, being pretty, shopping and being too fat, we noticed.  When the girl characters were left to stay at home or stay in hiding, or take care of the injured hero whilst the boy characters went out to save the day, we noticed.  When the girls inthe famous five were expected to pretty-up the cave they stayed in, we noticed.  When George, as she grew older, was praised for growing out of her tomboyishness, we noticed.  When a female character posed sexily, pouted, or wore revealing or exposing clothing, we noticed.

We noticed these things.  They leave a bad feeling in the gut, or in the throat, or in the back of the head.  We felt bad seeing all the girl characters phased out or treated like idiots.  My little sister got really angry when she watched the LWW movie and the two girls spent half of the movie crying and cuddling a dead lion, and the girl with the bow and arrow used it... once... in practice.  And the girl with the knife didn't go around doing what any sensible girl would do on a battlefield if she was too young to fight, which is slitting the throats of injured enemies like a good fremen girl.  (Yes, we've already got her onto Dune, I'm so proud...).

Just because we don't know the words at that age, doesn't mean we don't know when something is wrong, or jst plain stupid.  So yes, we did read comics when we were young, and we did notice when the comics we loved did something stupid, or racist, or sexist.  We didn't know the words, but we hated it.  We skimmed the pages with the sexy bits in, and when we found that our favourite comic kept on being that bad, we stopped wanting to buy it.

So yeah... that comment from Monroe really is kinda...

Dumb.

I'm a huge fan of Dune.

Frank Herbert's epic universe teems with life and endless possibilities.  Every character, no matter how brief their personal story, felt real and deep and important, and the effect their existence had on the Dune universe as a whole was real and tangible, albeit so very, very subtle.

I wept when Leto II died, when he lost his beloved and slipped into his endless dream.  I felt simultaneously happy for him for finally being free of a wretched, if necessary, existence and at the same time mourned the passing of something truly unique.  My breath caught in my throat when Muad'Dib battled Feyd Rautha to the death, and felt saddened by Pauls eventual demise.  Every moment had significance and the universe felt solid, tangible.  I found myself almost hoping that humanity's future would resemble the Dune universe some day.  I dreamed of having the depth of wisdom, cunning and physical ability of a Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother.

I was so excited at the thought that Frank Herbert's series, left as it was at such a cliffhanger, would be concluded by his son.

But both Hunters and Sandworms have left me cold.  Dissappointed and, even, wishing that the story had been left unfinished, so that I could have continued my own endless dream of Dune.  Without haing the characters spoilt.

SPOILER ALERT

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Brain Herbert suffers from an illness that is terminal to all good authors, or at least to their stories.  He lacks the hard edge required to kill a character you love, or to end their story tragically, when the story calls for it.  Brian seemed desperate, in Sandworms, to give each and every one of his favourite characters a happy ending, killing off only a few and even then, makig them so insignificant ot the story that their death didn't touch me at all.

Alia was a tragic figure in the old Dune books.  As a child she was called an Abomination and, as an adult, she was driven insane by the ancestral, embodied memories of Vladimir Harkonnen.  She was important, and her original death mattered.

In Sandworms, she barely gets a mention except to cement the basic fact of her existence into our consciousness and her death, for all that it saddens Jessica, seemed insignificant.  I didn't care about the death of a toddler.  She had no personality, no depth.  Her death was thrown in almost as an afterthought.  I didn't care.  Frank Herbert made the death of Paul's first son tragic, even though the boy barely figured in the books.  The death was horrific, terrible and heart-wrenching.  Alia's death just... happened.  The monument erected to her was unmoving because, in her new incarnation as a ghola, I could see no reason for her to need a monument.

When the murder of a toddler in the climax of a story leaves you totally unmoved, then you know the writer fucked up.

Every character that lives gets their own, personal perfect "happily ever after".  Waff dies on a ravaged Arrakis, happy and tearful as the sandworms magically reappear.  Stilgar and Liet Kynes get a brand new, growing Dune planet to play on.  Jessica gets a ghola of her beloved.  Yueh gets a chance to start afresh, with almost instant forgiveness.  Duncan becomes MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE and convinces the human race to instantly forget their millenia-old hatred and jihad against thinking machines because "no, it's okay.  I'm God and the machines are nice, now.".

The story feels less like an epic, climatic ending and more like a reading of the basic plot points laid out by Frank Herbert, with little-to-no actual bulking out with story.

The worms on Arrakis.  So, for all these years since the planet was burned to a crisp they've all been happily snoozing under the surface, waiting just until Waff turns up so that they can give him a happy ending.  Why?  Oh, well since they carry a pearl of Leto II's consciousness within them they obviously must share his presience.  What?!

Scytale just decides to abandon mysogynistic teachings that were drilled into him from birth, thousands of times over in repeated incarnations of himself, and gets to recreate his race of people although, don't worry, they're all nice now.  No explanation of the dramatic shift in his consciousness that makes him decide this.  No exploration of the thought processes involved in suddenly deciding that Tleilaxu women will now be allowed names and lives and rights.  No reason for the pathetic gratitude he whows to a mere powindah female allowing him refuge on her planet.

The Oracle manages to convince the last remaining, starving and slowly dying Navigators to actually give a shit for once and aid in the final battle.  No explanation of how she does this.  No glimpse of that final, climatic meeting between her and her people, no chance to see her inspire her Navigators.  And if she had the ability to instantly, magically remove all traces of Omnius from the universe in the blink of an eye, why did she wait until now to do so?  She knew where Synchronicity was, where Omnius was and what his limitations were.  So why wait for thousands of years and allow so many pointless deaths, first?

The new hybrid between Bene Gesserit and Honoured Matre finally unleashes the full Missionaria Protectiva plan over twelve planets, using Sheanna as a new, returned Messiah.  And this gets barely even a mention.  The Sheanna's and their workings aren't even glimpsed except for a single report of one planet where... everybody died of the plague, but they tried to fight anyway because Sheanna told them to.  No glimpse of this battle, nor a chance to see details of the workings of the twelve Sheanna's as they galvanised whole planets to battle.

In Brain Herbert's Dune, all the Bene Gesserit are really quite stupid, reckless and straight-forward people.  Their reasoning is flawed and their motivations and intentions always obvious.  Despite their ability to instantly kill themselves to avoid torture or interrogation, a room full of the corpses of tortured Bene Gesserit women is found!

Important things, which should have been subtle or, occassionally, not-so-sublte hints towards big things were just glossed over or forgotten.  Their abilities are oddly stunted.  Leto II's ghola kills a Bene Gesserit whilst still a newborn, mutating or releasing some sort of hidden worm power.  This power is never seen again or even referenced, aside from him riding a worm into battle.

The whole thing felt like...

"Tadaa!  You see?  Honoured Matres are actually Tleilaxu women, fighting back after being mistreated!  Tadaaa!  Omnius and Erasmus were behind the new face dancers, all along!  Tadaa!  Duncan is the Kwizatz Haderach!  And he doesn't require any new magical shift in perceptions or painful awakening, he just needs to be told that he is!  Tadaa!  Erasmus is really a nice person, now!  Tadaa!  The Rabbi was responsible for those sabotages, after all!  Tadaa!  Norma Cenva is The Oracle and she has magical powers!  Tadaa!  Dune is going to be okay, after all!  Tadaa!  The people that bred Futars are actually evil Face Dancers!  And look!  All the major characters inthe epic books are back, together again, for one last battle!  Tadaa!  A magical fairy drops out of the sky and saves the day and they all live happily ever after!

All these "big reveals" that don't really seem all that big because, well, Brian Herbert is like your pissed uncle who can't quite resist trying to let you "guess" what your birthday present is, and keeps dropping really quite obvious clues.  And it turns out he got you socks, anyway.  Frank Herbert could make a big reveal seem huge, and without even explicitly stating it at any point.

Almost all of the ghola children didn't need to be resurrected, besides the two Pauls, so insignificant were they to the plot.  Letto II, maybe, but he could have been used differently, and Vladimir Harkonnen had a kind of use.  As it is, Sheeana could have filled his role far better, or perhaps a child of Duncan and Sheeana, if they had ever mated as intended.  And yet, despite their insignificance, Brain finds it really, really hard to even let Good Paul have a heroic death, despite the fact that Bene Gesserit healing abilities have never before bene shown to include the ability to instantly heal a pierced heart and suck blood back into the body.

All in all, a disappointing, damp squib of an ending to an otherwise epic universe.  The various parts of the story had massive potential and, put together well, could have been amazing and moving and meaningful and have included some overriding message about all of humanity.  But Brain Herbert is not an epic writer.  He's a shallow, obvious and simplistic writer, who is afraid to edit out bits he likes or give characters bad endings, and he should never have tried to end the Dune universe himself.

If he wanted to release Frank Herbert's intended ending to the world he coud have just released manuscripts and notes in some sort of compilation book for everyone to gush over.  The fan fic produced as a result would have far rivalled this attempt.