Thursday, June 21, 2012

Hello boils and girks!  

The word for today is, “vagina.” 

Once again misogyny rears its ugly little head in America’s statehouses.  The focus, this time, is the vagina, that seemingly, endlessly mysterious feminine realm so many both love and fear:

Although congress has been busying itself, not with the real calamities facing most  Americans, but rather with debating and legislating what American women can, or should
do with their vaginas; and, according to Michigan lawmakers, "vagina" is a shameful or dirty word, not to be spoken in polite society.

Could these male lawmakers possibly be snickering behind the backs of their female colleagues, while using their own "personally, preferred" slang for vaginas? 
Don't think so?

As usual, the misogynists in charge of fixing the game, have tipped their hands:

Declaring the anatomically correct word, "vagina," to be so offensive, as to be banned
and unspoken, strongly suggests that, these male lawmakers, being so uncomfortable
and unfamiliar with the correct words for women’s reproductive organs, (in a debate about them!) it is more than likely that these same lawmakers probably use other, possibly vulgar, or demeaning and certainly less “decorous” words, when referring to women’s vaginas.

By rainjustice: thought here, brought here!

First Hint

“I had to quit my job over that tornado.” Obie resolutely told me in 1981, sitting at a long table in the employee break room. A room that, unnoticed by me, was now going gradually silent.

“That tornado,” being the monstrous F4 funnel that struck Wichita Falls, Texas in 1979, killing 42 people, causing over 1,700 injuries, destroying over 3,000 homes and leaving 20,000 homeless.

With my tactfulness, perhaps, needing a little tweaking, there in my first day as a newbie to the brand new operating unit for the, “phone company” (and new resident of Wichita Falls). I asked, “You had to quit your job over the tornado? How’d that happen? Did it hit where you worked?” (I usually asked three to four questions at a time, back then.) Obie, slowly shaking his head, responded, "No... It didn’t. I... guess that might’ve been some part of the problem.”

“Part of the problem…?” I was stumped. Until Obie, who was black, told me that since the tornado had missed the, " black part of town," instead wreaking havoc on the most affluent (and white) areas, that the, "white folks" said the, “black folks” (see nig**r) had brought it… BROUGHT the Tornado ON the White People!"

Picking up my chin, I nervously giggled, “Oh man, that’s crazy!" Obie, his voice hollow as if from some deep well, solemnly answered, “Yeah, but the white workers on my job harassed me so much over it, every day, that I finally had to quit that job.”

I was completely shocked and spouted, incredulously, “I can’t believe that. That is just nuts!”

Seeing a warning in Obie's face, I then began to glance around and noticed that, unlike me, all the other, “white folks” sitting at that long table seemed to be swelling up like toads.

Startled by the sudden whip of negative energy, I instinctively acted to snag that energy and deflate those fat toads:

With an exaggerated conspiratorial tone, combined with a, “pre-Palin” wink, I turned to Obie, saying, Soto Voce, “Well, you know Obie, I DID see a picture of it and… it WAS black.” Obie’s eyes went wide, he sucked in his breath and then, as I cackled, he joined in, looking terribly relieved and surprised by my attitude, or lack thereof.

But...we laughed alone.
None of the toads croaked in.
First hint of things to come.