Dear Chairman of the Board,
I have traversed the vessels of your community in my armored hover-pod and observed the trends and behavior of the natives. I have witnessed the frenzy, the panic, all the stone-faced attempts at seeing into another dimension, on the part of various unwitting individuals. And I have gotten a grasp of the local news, something like a bisector of a Kubrick movie and a scene from Patton.
One tidbit caught my attention, a song played in grocery stores in the community, the chorus of which stands as “It’s a woman’s world / And you’re lucky to be living in it”. Now, the first thing that struck me as peculiar about this song was how the speaker seemed to be addressing solely men, and not women, the recently alleged proprietors of this entire world. That is, by logic, a woman can’t be lucky to be living in her own world, since the ownership aspect would seem to imply some dues paid, prior, or some sort of rite of passage achieved for lending her ownership, eliminating “luck” as a factor, thereupon. We’re still floating the possibility that there might be some antagonism or spite at work here. I was going to brainstorm it with my colleagues in the coming weeks.
Allow me, now, to refer to the scrolls of folk tales. This is a crazy human dance you are all acting out, these days. The most vital bastions of arts seem to come from the most oppressed, most hegemonized peoples, on the landscape. Further, I’d like to insist that the most powerful music, the most memorable and meaningful discourses in our culture, regard people coming together, in love, on joy, in transformation and transcendence. Regarding the carnal act, it’s been widely publicized the disaffected phenomenon perceived by the woman, a la the stand-up comedian, directly the man’s entry, wondering, “Should I go to grad school?” They like it for the very REASON that it’s good for us. They get joy, which, yes, is non-carnal, out of living this experience on this planet, experiencing the human condition and all it complexities, all its metamorphoses, all its highs and lows. This whole dog star of feeling and meaning is impossible without true interaction and compassion, which must be based on equality, lest the sexes fall prey to superficial, brutish and boring hierarchy, ergo stasis. Well, anyway, I feel hegemonized. Perhaps that was the objective all along.
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