June 17th, 2005

Dance For Mazzie

Lovely? I think not

"You have a lovely wife." I hear that all the time. Or at least I would. If I were married. To a woman. It's a nice thought, I guess, but who wants lovely in this day and age? Lovely is an adjective you apply to objects like bone china and window treatments. Lovely is a summer day, or a big blue bonnet. Lovely applied to women of the past, delicate creatures who spent their days fanning themselves on the veranda and their nights swooning to protect the family honor.

Today's women are a different breed.

No longer content to sit on the sidelines in uncomfortable corsets and cheer for their men today's women grab life with both hands and say "Oh yeah, life, you're my bitch. You're my bitch now. Bend over. Bend over life." Ideal femininity has gone from a pale creature in a bright dress who smells like flowers to a tough girl in a sports bra with shredded abs and short spiked hair. She sweats, she farts, and, yes, she fucks. Lovely? Like a china doll? Like a daffodil? Lovely? I think not.

So how is it a compliment to tell someone he has a lovely wife? Just what are you implying? That she's from a bygone era? That she's old? That instead of embracing sex as a thing of joy and pleasure she lies back on the bed, lifts her knees, and thinks of England? A lovely girl is polite and respectful. When asked for oral sex she declines, or at best licks hesitantly at the penis, like a child tasting an ice cream cone only to find it is made of human flesh. Then she returns to her time honored tradition of counting ceiling tiles while the hairy brute completes his business. Lovely is an insult, a shot across the bow. "You have a lovely wife sir. Sex with you must really be a chore."

So I decided to go on a quest. A quest to discover a new adjective to describe the modern bride. An adjective that would compliment her beauty without impugning her spirit. An adjective that would capture the essence of what it means to be a woman in 2005. I would try out a bunch of candidates and see what felt right and what other people responded to as a replacement for "Lovely."

I started with "Fuckable." This did not go over well. In fact, you'd be surprised how hard an old man can hit you if you lean over during a piano recital and say "Is that your granddaughter? She's extremely fuckable." After that and several other incidents, including one unfortunate misunderstanding at a job interview where a recent widower had a photograph that was clearly misleading about the current life/death status of his wife, I had to concede that perhaps my idea could use a little massaging. After quickly going through "Rideable" "Masturbateable to" and "Is that your wife? I'd hit it" I decided that perhaps the world was not ready for such a radical departure from "Lovely" and perhaps it would be advisable to rein things in a little.

Thus began a lengthy search of the English language for just the right word. "Foxy," "Foxish," "Stone cold Fox," and "Alopex lagopus" were all dismal failures. "Troutish" just lead to cocked eyebrows and a bartender refusing to serve me anything but Sprite. "Crackerjack" made people think of a delicious ballgame snack, "hunky dory" made them think they were at a '50s theme party, and "super-duper" got me a date with a guy named Carl, though that may just have been the accentuating lisp.

I tried taste adjectives next, but there didn't seem to be a happy compromise between "Ambrosial" (a little too fancy) and "Sumptuous" (A little too "Is that your wife? I'd hit it.") "Creamcake" "Amaretto Surprise" and "Roasted chicken in a lovely orange sauce with cilantro and a side of pureed New Potatoes" all confused people. Was there no way to refer to women without implying they were shrinking violets or getting my ass kicked?

Then I stumbled upon the perfect word. "Winsome." It does not reduce a woman to merely the sum of her physical parts or imply that she is a shrinking violet, but neither does it conjure up images of illicit sexual behavior or a three course meal. Now I know what you're thinking, winsome is just a synonym for "charming." That's true, but I wasn't going to go on this vast journey of linguistic discovery just to end up at "charming." People already say "charming." I didn't get my ass kicked by a 70 year old in an ascot to end up with "charming." Winsome is also alliterative, a winsome woman. Can charming say that? No. So fuck "charming." Now I know what else you're saying. Winsome makes me sound a douche. That's true, it does have that drawback. But you know what? Sounding like a douche is a lot less awkward than setting salary demands with a man whose dead wife you've just called fuckable, okay? So deal with it. The next time you need an adjective to describe someone's wife or daughter go with "Winsome." You can't go wrong with "Winsome." Do not under any circumstances say you'd hit it. Trust me, that's not the way to go.

I got tagged

ruudboy tagged me with a Meme. That British Mets-loving bastard. It is as follows:

List five reasons why you are a dork, and make them good reasons. Justify and explain them. Be loud and proud of what a dork you are. Then pick the five biggest dorks on your friends list and have them do the same.

#1) I have no sense of fashion. None. I have clothes. I place them on my body because nudity is frowned upon in our society. Beyond that I am clueless. My socks all have holes in them and never match. I have recently been told that people notice when one sock is brown and the other is missing. My response was "Why are you looking at my ankles? My eyes are up here." I see nothing wrong with wearing a button down shirt, a tie, a sport coat, cuff links, and pink sweatpants. Variety is the spice of life. People who actually know what goes with what, or that it's inappropriate to wear old gym shoes to a wake, have tried to talk sense into me. The whole color matching thing sounds like graduate level physics to me. What's so wrong with combining a flannel over shirt with a tank-top anyway?

#2) I love video games. I play every day. I have had at least one major system since the days of NES (When I was but a tot) and was playing imports at age 6 or so. I have completed a season of MVP 2005 with the New York Mets, playing over 200 games if you include minor league. I have a collection of probably over 1000 games. I scour video game news and review sites and used to write for one. I have absolutely no plans to give this hobby up. If I ever had a kid I would insist on being able to beat him down in Mortal Kombat, using Scorpion of course. "Fatality, BITCH. Yeah that right there's a life lesson from dad, write it down. Never use Sub-Zero's freeze attack from that far away. You're going to need that one later in life. Trust me" I want to own a copy of Blinx the Time Sweeper just 'cause.

#3) I'm a total word/reference geek. If there's a word I don't know I look it up. If there's a reference I don't get I try to google it and figure out what it is. I also intentionally use unusual words and interesting references in my own writing and speech. Most people only use a few thousand words a day, I try to best that number by a lot. I love the English language with all its quirks and strangeness. Everything but the spelling. Spanish and I, on the other hand, do not get along. Spanish and I have a long history. A long bad history.

#4) I am spectacularly unsuccessful with women. Spectacularly. I cannot stress this enough. If women were a car and I were the driver I would start it up, jolt ahead to an unsafe speed, veer off the road through a guard-rail, plummet off a cliff, and explode impact. That pretty much sums up my abilities with the ladies. I don't even really have female friends. I've had a few and then I said something to offend them, and refused to take it back because why should I censor myself based on your hangups and oh, you're walking away? Well SCREW YOU TOO then. I don't need you. I don't need anyone. I'm so alone. If I were stuck on a desert island with a beautiful woman she would be a lesbian cannibal. Despite all this I have failed in my efforts to become gay.

#5) I love fantasy, sci-fi, and just fiction in general. I think that if daydreamers and philosophers ran the world things would run a whole lot better with everyone happier and more fulfilled. I believe in the power of the human imagination and the written, sung, or sign-languaged word. I devour books whole, leaving ink-stained confetti in my wake, and I read classics for fun. This is all geeky behavior. I should be out drinking and driving woman-cars off metaphorical cliffs. I'm not. I'd rather be at home writing, or watching a movie, or just lying in bed with some Plato. DORKY.

I'm supposed to tag the five dorkiest people on my list to do this entry, but since I have a frighteningly low number of dorks available to me I'm going to select the five people least likely to do me bodily harm for implying they are dorks. rpeate, philbeta, Scrawny genericrick, missfestival, and ed_gashlycrumb because I sincerely suspect she will not read this.
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Cruisepocalypse now

So as a lot of people have noted, fake celebrity super couple Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes have announced their 'fake' engagement in France. A lot of people are clucking their tongues, saying that this won't last. They're predicting a quickie divorce. I'm not so quick to judge, and I don't think this marriage will end in divorce. I think that the romance is real, and it will end not in court but somewhere darker. Much much darker.

You see for Tom Cruise this 'fake' marriage is serious business. Deadly serious. He no longer lives in the world that you and I inhabit, he lives in a different world, one with 75 million year old alien ghosts and body thetans everywhere. A world where you can take classes in flying and controlling the world with only the power of your mind. His job doesn't help 'ground him' either, of course. His film library consists entirely of Tom Cruise movies and he watches himself perform incredible feats on the silver screen every night. Years of Scientology brainwashing have convinced him that these documentary films about his life. That's not Ethan Hunt up there on the screen thwarting terrorists and traitors alike with his cat-like reflexes and fancy gadgetry. That's Tom Cruise. That's not Chief John Anderton fighting off the forces of evil from his corrupted psychic charges. It's Tom Cruise. And that's not Lestat De Lioncourt who needs to drink the blood of the living so that he may continue his undead existence. It's Tom Cruise.

"Alright" you may be saying, "Tom Cruise is crazy, but is he dangerous? He's like two inches tall." Is he dangerous? Yes, he's dangerous. Very dangerous. You see despite rumors to the contrary Tom Cruise is not actually two inches tall. He is 63 inches in height, 65 if you let him wear shoes. Now that may not be very tall for a human male, but Tom Cruise is no longer human. He once was, but now he is something more. So much more. Tom Cruise is America's first fully cybernetic organism. Scientology's leadership has slowly but surely been replacing the organs of Tom Cruise with top secret machinery, in the name of cleansing his Thetans. For example most people's spleens are useless. Tom Cruise's spleen can bench press well-over 300 pounds. It can do this without the use of arms. Meanwhile Tom Cruise has been strengthening his organic body parts through a careful workout regiment and use of special Scientology vitamins known as "Anabolic steroids."

All this has rendered Tom Cruise the most dangerous man alive. It gets worse though. The brain-control device implanted in his cerebellum is starting to malfunction. This is why he is proselytizing so openly ahead of schedule. Is his love for Katie Holmes real? As real as the electric impulses blasting through the passion center of his brain awakening his long dormant heterosexuality. As real as the readouts on his cybernetic eyes that tell him her womb is in pristine condition. As real as his hypnotically induced desire for an army of mini-cruises to be birthed forth from her disgustingly inverted genitalia.

The Church of Scientology wanted to wait until he was more powerful before unleashing him. They wanted to wait until they had backup baby Cruises in case this one failed in his quest. They wanted to mix his cybernetic sperm in Katie Holmes' all-American womb and create insurance. It doesn't look like that's going to happen.

Presently Tom Cruise has the strength of 10 men or 15 metrosexuals.Before the end of June 2005 that will be multiplied by a factor of 100. The original plan was that once he had the strength of 1000 men he would use his celebrity to wrangle an invitation to the White House, overpower the entire secret service, and take control of the country's nuclear arsenal. At that point humanity would have no choice but to convert en mass to Scientology or face the apocalypse.

Now the apocalypse is inevitable.

"But wait" you say. "As Tom Cruise's wife wouldn't Katie Holmes be the safest of us all?" The answer to that is no. Not in the least. You see upon the release of his new film War of the Worlds June 29 2005 at a theater near you, Tom Cruise will declare actual war on the world. The press will treat this as a humorous publicity stunt until Tom Cruise decimates Brooklyn neighborhood of Brighton Beach, leaving no survivors. At this point the world governments will come together to attempt to defeat Tom Cruise but it will be too late. With each life Tom Cruise takes he grows stronger, and with each body he consumes he becomes stronger still. As he slaughters his way through New York killing the 8 million residents and consuming their flesh he will become invincible. At this point Katie Holmes will try to stop him because she is America's sweetheart and she loves the world even more than she loves Tom Cruise. He will not listen to her, and as she pleads louder and louder for mercy he will become more and more enraged until the feeling will overpower him. He will give her a sharp but loving slap across the face, the preferred woman-correction technique of gentlemen everywhere, but with his newfound power it will not result merely in pain, it will cause her to disintegrate. Then he will consume the fleshy remains of what was once Katie Holmes.

This is the common tragedy of celebrity romance. Whether it is Lindsay Lohan rejecting Wilmer Valderrama for his cheating ways or Katie Holmes being consumed by her one true love it never ends well. So while it's easy for us to sit back and laugh at the exploits of Holmes and Cruise, or stock up on water and perishables for the coming of the unstoppable Cruisepocalypse, maybe what we really should do is take a long hard look in the mirror and ask who are we to judge? Haven't we ever made bad choices in relationships? Haven't we kept things going longer than they should for appearances, or dated someone who wasn't right just because we were lonely, and the sex was great, and she didn't complain when we took money from her purse, and her sister was hot, like smoking. And haven't we killed a few of our lovers and consumed their flesh raw? It's the only way a love this strong can end.

It's easy to judge those in the spotlight with their fake romances and crazy world-domination religions, but maybe, just maybe, the things we're mocking about them reflect not their flaws, but ours.