when the status quo frustrates.

Oh Poker, Thy Name is Misogyny

Monday, September 14th, 2009

I don’t think I’ve discussed that aspect of poker much in the past, though I’m sure that nobody is surprised to hear that it is a very large part of the poker culture. Of the poker professionals out there, very few are female, and those who are generally frame themselves as the sex-kitten-who-just-happens-to-play-poker–it’s a great hook and makes them a lot of dough via sponsors–generally what I think of as the Danica Patrick marketing strategy. (Jennifer Harman is one exception to that, but I honestly can’t think of any others right now.)

I am not infrequently the only woman at my table when I play poker, and even when I’m not, there’s rarely more than one other (there are usually eight to ten people at a table total). I’ve gotten spoiled, though–I’ve mostly been playing with the same pool of folks now for a couple of years, so they all know me–they know that how I play has absolutely nothing to do with any gender dynamics they might want to introduce to the situation, let’s say. However, Saturday night, I wound up making it all the way to the final table in the tourney I was in–in fact, made it to the point where there was only one other player left and me competing for the win.

I didn’t (and still don’t) know the guy’s name–he wasn’t someone I’d ever played with before. We’d just spent about forty minutes together at the final table, but we hadn’t been in any hands together (it’s not unusual not to be in any hands with me for forty minutes–I am a folding machine). I do recall, though, when he looked up from his chips and realized that there was nobody else left at the table but him and me–he fixed his gaze on mine and got the biggest, brightest smile on his face. Then he pushed out a pile of chips–a big one, about a third of his stack. “I’m betting this,” he said, grinning at me.

“Can’t,” I said. The tournament director had come over to shuffle and deal for us and was busy with the cards. “You can’t straddle* in this league.”

He ignored me. “Hey, W,” I said to the director. “No straddling, right?”

“Nope,” said the director, and flicked a glance over at my competitor. “Put ‘em back.”

Still grinning, he lazily pulled his chips back to his main pile, one and two at a time. “But that’s what I’m gonna bet,” he said.

Oh sigh. I ignored him til the cards were dealt; without so much as a glance down at his own, he tossed out a similar pile of chips–if he’d put the smirk away while I hadn’t been looking, it was back full force now, coupled with a pointed stare deep into my eyes.

I peeked under my cards. Queen-ten suited–not a monster, by any means–but–”Oh,” I said, and looked up at him, and finally grinned back at him with the biggest wattage I could muster. “Well. I’m all in.” I scooped up my entire chip stack and placed it carefully in front of my cards.

His grin vanished abruptly, just like it’d been slapped off his face (which it pretty much had). “Oh really,” he said.

“Really,” I said. I was feeling genuinely cheerful now. Slowly, he looked under his cards, then back up at me–no intently smirking stare now, one couldn’t help but notice.

“Really,” he said.

“Yep,” I said. I blinked innocently at him. “You might wanna look at your cards first, before you bet, next time…”

The girl sitting next to him watching, who hadn’t said a word all evening, suddenly grinned. “I like her,” she said.

Now, what just happened..?

Well, if you play poker, you know. It is a very common, and honestly a very successful, strategy, to identify the weak player (or weaker players, if you’re lucky and there’s more than one) at a table and bully him (or them). A weak player is a fearful player, who unless he has the absolute nuts** can usually be frightened out of a hand by a show of aggression. There is nothing wrong with doing this; it’s part of the game.

However, you should never confuse weak with tight. A tight player will fold to a raise if he doesn’t have pot odds–and sometimes other players will misunderstand this and mistakenly think that they have scared him out of the hand, rather than it being a reasoned mathematical decision. However, it usually doesn’t take long for them to realize their mistake–all it takes is trying to push him out with bad cards on a bluff, getting called and losing chips to teach them a valuable (if sometimes painful) lesson.

Another thing you should never do, that male players often regularly attempt on any new female player until they are thrashed out of the possession of this very bad idea, is assume that a player can be intimidated by them simply because she is a woman. And it was so, so painfully obvious that was the dynamic that even our casual female spectator got quite a kick out of watching him get caught out stark naked on it.

*”Straddle” means, technically, to bet double the big blind before the cards are dealt–it’s also used more generally just to mean betting at all before the cards are dealt, though.
**”Nuts” are the best possible hand at that point in the game.

Michelle Obama is a Hot 100 Girl of Maxim

Monday, August 24th, 2009

So, I stumbled across this yesterday, and my brain is still having difficulty actually processing it as a concept:

2009 Hot 100 Girls of Maxim
At long last the stimulus package America really needs: The eyeball-searing, fantasy-fulfilling, brain-exploding return of the Hot 100!

93. Michelle Obama
He may be dealing with two wars, an economic meltdown, and a rapidly graying dome, but at least our Commander in Chief gets to come home to the hottest First Lady in the history of these United States.

My reactions, in chronological sequence:

1. That’s a very nice picture of Mrs. Obama.
2. Maxim is a really stupid magazine.
3. No, I’m not being sexist, it’s the exact same kind of stupid as Cosmopolitan–hey, equal-opportunity stupidity! How often do you get to see that in the real world–
4. Is that really the President’s wife on a Hot 100 Maxim Girl list?!
5. Oh my God, Maxim is such a stupid magazine!
6. She is pretty hot, actually. I don’t think I look that good now.
7. I wonder what the comments say…?
8. Okay, now I’m sorry I looked at the comments.
9. To really analyze this, I should look at the other 99 Hot Maxim Girls–
10. No, I just can’t do it. Not even for the blog!
11. Not only do Democrats get all the good musicians at their convention, now they get to have the hot first lady too–do you think Republicans ever get jealous of all this effortless cool..?
12. Maxim is really the stupidest, most sexist while simultaneously being the most brainlessly trivial magazine, ever. Gah!

Sorry–I Refuse To Hate Men, And None Of You Can Make Me Do It No Matter How Hard You Try

Sunday, June 28th, 2009

“Men are dogs,” said my previous ex-husband to me, as we were driving out together to meet my current ex-husband at the bank to close our joint account.

“No, they’re not,” I said.

“Yes they are,” he said, very firmly, staring straight ahead at the road. “You need to stop thinking everyone’s like you, you know. You always do that. You did that with me, too.”

“You wouldn’t have done something like this.”

“No,” he agreed. “But I take marriage very seriously. Clearly he doesn’t.”

Obviously true and inarguable, so I let it go. But I didn’t forget that conversation, nor could I erase something my current ex-husband said to me since our parting of ways:

Him: I think your feminism may have been part of the problem.
Me: How so?
Him: When you said your divorce lawyer told you that you must have a problem with self-respect to have allowed yourself to be treated this way. That really bothered you.
Me: Don’t you want me to have self-respect?
Him: (pause) In some ways. Sometimes.

The above theme had cropped up earlier as well, in the month or two before we separated–of course, I wasn’t aware at the time what was triggering it, that his ex-wife had moved up here and they were conspiring together to get rid of me (maritally, not literally, of course!). In short, he mentioned on several occasions that what he really wanted was someone who would do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted without interference from such concepts as her own self-respect or personal desires–my efforts to please and placate were clearly underwhelming, and he just as clearly believed that such a woman was indeed out there just waiting for him. (Again, since I didn’t know about the eager availability of his ex-wife–who I should probably point out, didn’t actually consistently perform to that standard while they were married, which is why they separated repeatedly and finally divorced–I found his assurance on the subject bewildering. Not anymore, obviously.)

But the thing that troubles me is that both men do think that this sort of behavior is simply something that’s endemic to men, to the gender male of H. sapiens. Now, you’ll never find me arguing that there aren’t a large crop of asshats running around the planet at any given point in time–but I just can’t really bring myself to believe that all or even most men are secretly (or not so secretly) this particular brand of asshat. Some, sure. But so are some women–I’ve met them. And I would definitely agree that society and culture (pretty much all of ‘em, even worse in other cultures than in ours) set men up to be more likely to be this sort of entitled, domineering, sexually uncontrolled brand of asshat.

But I still can’t really believe that menarejustlikethat! I especially reject that they are like that as an inborn trait–I have no patience for that brand of evo-psych. But I also reject that they are all like that as an acquired trait, too. I reject that most of them are like that…men are people, not badly programmed sexbots. (Well, okay, except for Dennis Prager.)

But my first ex-husband and my current ex-husband aren’t the only men who’ve made these statements to me. Over the years, many many other men have made similar statements to me–about the inherent selfishness, sexual obsessiveness, immaturity, etc. that is the essence of malekind. I’ve always rejected them as blanket statements or even as reliable generalities.

So am I being stupid, to assume I know better what men are than all these other men who’ve argued with me about it? Many men have treated me with respect and consideration during the course of my life–am I to believe, as all these other men always insist, that it’s because I’m desirable and it is done solely to enhance the possibility that I might someday accidentally trip and fall on top of their waiting dicks? That it’s all an act to get me where they want me (emotionally and often, legally bound to them) so then they can reveal what they’ve really wanted all this time..? Gad, it’s all such a stereotype–must I buy into it?

Sorry–I still don’t. I still think it’s more likely that I just haven’t been careful…though I’ve gotten more and more careful with each spouse, and put up with the subsequently revealed repellent post-marriage-ceremony bullshit for shorter and shorter durations each time, clearly, I simply haven’t been careful enough in my choices.

On a kind of funny side note, I now have an saved email archive full of ex-husbands declaring (post-divorce!) what a wonderful, special woman I am, and how sweet and kind and beautiful and caring and intelligent and strong and–! I do have a good, positive relationship with the first ex, and I may well have one with this one, too, if he chooses that. It’s very peculiar; I’ve never really witnessed the like. Either I’m really something spectacular, or they want to keep the hope alive that I might put out again someday when they’re desperate and alone–I just can’t decide which. :)

Anal Sex, Rape and What They Mean to Your Average Straight Man

Wednesday, April 8th, 2009

(No, Lisa’s preferences in regards to anal sex or lack thereof are not a theme that is going to be explored in this blog post. If harassed about it, I will briefly state my preference, but hopefully nobody will so far miss the whole point of this post that they will be motivated to ask.)

I got to thinking on this topic today after a brief hop over to Feminsting’s community blogsite where I saw an article entitled “Feminist Critique of Hetero Male Culture Causes Mass MRA Hysteria.” I wasn’t too intrigued by the header there, I’ll admit, because most feminist critiques of anything to do with men and sexuality send most MRAs over the edge of rationality–in other words, well okay but so..? but I was also waiting for about 5 million work emails to finish printing out on my feeble home printer and I had time to kill. So I read it, and followed the embedded link to the original blog post by the author on her own website and read that too.

It wasn’t a bad article, even if the author had to start out with the tired old refrain of “when I was a little girl I was really more like a little boy! because 99% of little girls, unlike me, were all about Barbies and gossip and hated physical activity of any sort–!” I do get tired of that one. It certainly does incline me to agree that the female writers who regularly prop up this stereotype did, indeed, have zero little girlfriends growing up or they’d know better than that. But then, if they acknowledged that to be true, they might have to reconsider why they didn’t actually have more little girlfriends, eh..? I’m sure it’s much more pleasant to imagine that one didn’t because one was simply too guyishly cool for all those little pink rainbow wussies! rather than it being, perhaps, for some other less self-congratulatory reason.

But moving on to the actual point she was trying to make–she certainly got it right about the prevalence of men using being on the receiving end of anal sex as a euphemism for a miserable situation. However, I think she rather missed the boat on why. Men also, just as frequently if not more so, use being raped in the same euphemistic fashion. So, when men are talking about being fucked up the ass by their boss, or the government, or their ex-wife’s lawyer, they’re not actually referring to the mechanics of anal sex–they’re referring to being raped. Since women don’t rape men (yes, I know they do, but bear with me), men are simply using the phrase “fucked up the ass” synonymously with “getting raped.”

That whole idea did strike me as interesting, though–because men also use “rape” euphemistically, with themselves as the main actor, to describe how they absolutely defeated some other person or persons in competition (the competition can be either formal, as in a softball game, or informal, as in getting the best parking space at Wal-Mart). However, they do not ever (that I’ve witnessed) describe themselves as “fucking someone else up the ass” in that way. So the distinction is made, and the distinction seems pretty clear-cut in cause to me. It is homophobic, specifically male-homophobic, and all of a piece with how the most common thing I hear out of pre-pubescent and pubescent boys’ mouths as an insult exchanged with other boys (and since I have a twelve-year-old son and a seventeen-year-old son, I get to hear a lot of this kind of exchange) is, “You’re gay.”

Men, therefore, who use all these euphemisms, have a clear grasp of the essentials–only women and faggots, ie, persons with status less than the standard issue heterosexual man, get fucked up the ass. To be fucked up the ass is to have your human status reduced. If something happens to you that reduces your status in the eyes of others, you have been fucked up the ass. If you soundly defeat another man, you have reduced his status to that of a woman–you have raped him–but you don’t quite want to say that you fucked him up the ass, as he is male like you, because that would make you a faggot and reduce your status too.

This is why we have the seeming paradox of these men fearing rape more than any other crime that could be committed against them, with the possible exception of castration, yet having no issues at all regularly blowing off and otherwise dismissing the rape of women by men, with the sometimes-exception of the rape of a prepubescent woman or a virgin. For them, rape is psychologically devastating because it makes you a homo, and physically painful because while pussies are clearly designed for dicks, assholes aren’t. They accept that rape might also be psychologically damaging because a girl child’s brain probably hasn’t fully accepted adult concepts yet and a virgin is probably saving herself for some special man, and physically damaging because a child’s vagina isn’t quite done developing to full readiness for a man’s penis and because they can imagine that the rupture of the physical membrane that is the hymen could be painful. However, once a female has begun to menstruate and no longer possesses a hymen, her getting fucked in the vagina is totally natural both physically and psychologically–it’s how we were all designed, right?–so it really can’t be considered anything nearly as psychologically or physically devastating as a man getting raped anally by another man. And it doesn’t reduce a pubescent, non-virgin female’s status–she’s already not a virgin, which is the only status boost she could possibly stack onto her pre-existing undeniable femaleness, and once that’s gone, she has no more to lose.

An interesting conundrum that this can present for men who find that they really enjoy receiving anal stimulation–I was in a long-term, monogamous relationship with one (I won’t say which one). He asked me, very hesitantly and shame-faced, after the first time we really made a point of trying it out, if I thought that that meant he had homosexual urges. I said, I don’t think so–who do you want to be doing this to you? Me, or a man? You! he said, very definitely, and I said, Well, I think that’s what defines you as homosexual or not–who you’re doing whatever you’re doing with, not what exactly you happen to be doing. But men who want to perform anal sex on women don’t have this agonizing conflict–because, again, it is getting fucked that reduces your status and puts you in your place, not doing the fucking.

I used to wonder why men seemed to have so much trouble empathizing with most types of rapes, when a woman was the victim, or even why they en masse never seemed to take it seriously when a man was raped by a woman, yet clearly had no trouble at all wildly overempathizing with the horror that was a man getting raped by another man. This is the answer, and it’s a pretty sad one.

On an end note, though, I can’t help but preemptively sympathize with the author of the original Feministing community blog post–one of the very first responses to her article was the following, by a self-described “MRAman:”

If you don’t like butt sex you should just say so. Nobody would be surprised anyway, since everyone knows feminists are always opposed to things men like.

Sigh. Yes, that must be it…well, if I’m lucky, our periodic trollers won’t be around to read this particular blog post and visit me with such sage perceptions as well. Fingers crossed. :)

Sexual Dimorphism (remix)

Tuesday, March 3rd, 2009

This Vox dude is turning out to be a real trip. Of course I always keep in mind that a single, incoherent, poorly written blog article does not speak to the entirety of any particular blogger’s ability–I’m sure I’ve cranked out enough of those to paper at least one wall of my basement. But two of ‘em in a row…that can’t be a good sign.

Voxalicious’s opening words in yesterday’s blog entry, following up his diatribe on the new Battlestar Galactica series:

As long as my masculinity is again being called into question, I suppose it’s as good a time as any to answer a few of the regulars who emailed to ask about what’s been going on in the workout front

What does working out have to do with masculinity..? No idea here; I’ve been working out since I was thirteen years old and I’ve been a girl the whole, entire time. As a matter of fact, that was the year I got my first period..! (TMI, no doubt. Sorry, folks. :) )

particularly about an injury I’d mentioned a while ago. I don’t know if it was age getting the better of me or if it was just my propensity to overtrain, but something deep inside my shoulder had been bothering me for a long time, so I finally listened to Spacebunny and kept my bench under 165 for about a year.

Oh, wait. It’s weightlifting! Oh, well, I’ve only been doing that since I was eighteen. Maybe my gender switched polarities or something in those intervening five years. Of course, that was also the year that I first got knocked up, which makes it difficult to believe.

The rest seems to have helped quite a bit; today was my second heavy lift in over a year and the shoulder held up fine without even a twinge of discomfort. It felt great and everything except the very last rep at 270 went up easily.

No, no, now I get it! He lifts really heavy weights. Much like our sure knowledge that no woman has ever knocked a man out with a pugilistic blow, we also are just as positive that no woman, anywhere, lifts really heavy weights. And if she DID lift heavy weights, they would never be anywhere near as heavy as TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY POUN–

Women’s Olympic weightlifting records.

In the 58kg (128lb body weight*) class: 522 lb
In the 69kg (152lb body weight*) class: 605 lb
In the 75+ (165lb+ body weight*) class: 671 lb

*Weightlifters are classed by body weight–not knowing Vox’s body weight, I put up a nice range above for him to fit himself into.

My recommendation: Try defining your masculinity in some other way than based upon how much weight you can lift.

(Previous musings on sexual dimorphism here.)

When Pity Is Warring With Disgust

Thursday, December 25th, 2008

First of all, I would like to say that I don’t read Townhall. The only reason I even knew this article existed was because Jesse at Pandagon blogged about it. I may even leave a nastygram on his Facebook page in revenge, because this is about the most pathetic, icky article disguised as a holiday concern ooze that I have read all month.

(more…)

The anti-gun gun-nut

Monday, July 28th, 2008


Not bad for a gun-hater.

So. A homophobic terrorist shoots up a Unitarian Universalist church, which is pretty much the mass murdering equivalent of kicking puppies. The usual suspects on both sides come out of the woodwork to claim that more guns or fewer guns, respectively, would have prevented this tragedy from occurring.

On the NRA side, SaysUncle is on the case!

The Mrs. often asks why I carry to church. It’s because shootings keep happening at churches.

Kynn points out that politicizing tragedy and victim-blaming is kind of a shitty thing to do. Posters from SaysUncle immediately jump all over her blog. She bans them. Her blog, her prerogative, and she wasn’t looking for a debate.

SaysUncle & Co. get butthurt about it and bring up Kynn’s appearance and gender presentation, as if either are relevant.

I can’t resist an opportunity to troll, so I went over there and attempted to reason with them. After all, I’m not anti-gun; I just think that guns wouldn’t have prevented the tragedy. But they flip out, arguing that of course, they totally could have taken down the shooter without hurting anyone else.

There are a lot of arguments that one can make here, but my final one, as I was starting to get caught up in their spam filters, was that yes, certainly, I respect their right to own guns. Among the many problems with their victim-blaming line, however, is the idea that the only way to prevent gun violence is by carrying concealed firearms. To which I asked: what about kids who are too young to shoot, people with physical or mental disabilities that prevent them from safely operating guns, and especially in this case, what about pacifists who don’t want to carry guns? Should they, like the original poster, carry guns to church? And if they don’t, do they deserve to get shot?

The, er, ludicrous response:

Each and every single person on Earth has the implicit right to kneel, bend their head and take a bullet in the back of the head. Each person has the right to lie supine with knees spread. Each and every person has the right to stand in abject terror with hands raised and the sure and certain knowledge that personal death is very near.

Where do these people live—Baghdad? I have a hard time imagining that violence is so rampant in the U.S. that one’s only option if one wants to be safe is to pack heat. Earlier, we were arguing about whether it’s responsible to have guns around children—I firmly believe that it is not. Their argument hinged on the infrequency of accidental child deaths caused by guns.

But random shootings, well-publicized as they are, are also quite rare. You’re more likely to die in a car accident. So I wonder at the psychology of people convinced that they need to be armed when they attend children’s plays at churches—you know, just in case. I suspect there’s some other motive at work, such as complete and utter paranoia or, possibly, tiny penises.

These guys don’t believe me that I’m not part of some sinister left-wing conspiracy to take their guns away (I’m really not, and I’m not sure why they’re so scared when the far-right has been in power in their country, content to erode all of their civil liberties besides the right to bear arms). But to be honest, it’s really hard to take the pro-gun argument seriously when the people making these arguments are so batshit that the solution to any problem becomes a testosterone-laced violent fantasy.

Anyway, apparently they’re looking for Rational DebateTM, which I guess is an invitation to wander over there and disagree with them. Just a warning: If you disagree too effectively, they start to froth at the mouth and suddenly every comment you make mysteriously gets caught in their spam filter.

The worst person on the planet

Sunday, July 20th, 2008

We have a contender.

Meet Dmitri. He’s a pick-up artist, which in itself gives him about 50 million douchebag points. He met a woman named Olga, who talked to him for a few minutes, gave him her card, and said, “Call me.”

So he did. She wasn’t home, and he left the second-douchiest phone message in history. Olga seems to be a sensible woman who, in realizing her mistake, did the sensible thing and just didn’t call him back. So a few days later, he fired back with the douchiest phone message in history.

Have a listen. He’s from Toronto, and the comments from the good folks at the Toronto Women’s Bookstore in that article are just wonderful.

Hat tip: Rantipole6

The Patriarchy Speaks

Sunday, June 8th, 2008

Menfolk, haven’t you longed for a show that gives *you* the advice you need to get through the day — to help you deal with all the crazies and annoying people of different, uh, “backgrounds” and genitals?

Behold, the new short digital series Your Manhood, starring The Patriarchy.

In the first episode, The Patriarchy discusses the recent developments in politics: