A Bugsplanation

There is, of course, the obvious question: Do you really want to know?

Setting that aside, it ought to be easy enough to recall an issue from the War of the Sexes, the question of what would happen if men were pregnant. Nor does it seem extraordinary to suggest that, for the most part, the answer usually orbits propositions about how men can’t deal with pain, or couldn’t endure forty weeks of the daily trials of pregnancy.

We ought not contest that.

Nonetheless, wonderful neighbors who happen to be female, it is time for the mansplanation, or, in this case, the bugsplanation, courtesy of our dude Adam.

Oh, come on, baby. You need this. I know you want to. You know it’s worth it. Just the click. I wouldn’t ever hurt you. You know that. And I promise it won’t c― … er … ah … right.

Adam! Adam! he’s our man! If he can’t man-splain, no one can!

(Oh, come on, dude, you knew that one would come, and quickly.)

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Image note: Detail of Bug Martini by Adam Huber, 27 January 2016.

A Disappointing Discussion

This is not none of my business:

And even though I wanted to reply, to put each of those scared little baby men in their place, I held my tongue, I privated my account, and I waited in my car outside Ralph’s daycare until my hands stopped shaking and my heart slowed down.

I did this because unlike these men, with online pseudonyms, it’s me online. My face, my name. And because I am afraid of retaliation, I had to hide on the Internet the same way I’d have to run and lock my front door if this man had said that to my face.

That. Is. Rape. Culture.

It’s a group of men who are so threatened by the existence of female opinion that it’s nothing to them to toss off a tweet like that. Because, can’t I take a joke? Because, why am I such a bitch when a man just wants me to smile? Because, what business do I have posting a *gasp* selfie and telling men how to treat me?

This exchange, in the big scheme of things, is nothing. Really, these people are nothing to me and I could just keep ignoring it and pretend it never happened and hope that they let me slide out of their part of the Internet and stay on the sunny side. I’ve watched my husband die in my arms so on the scale of Shit That Matters, a few tweets… don’t.

Even in the big picture of the cesspool that is Twitter (Jack, dude, get it under control), this is nothing. Women experience worse. Every day.

That’s why this matters.

And this is stupid.

No, not what Nora McInerny Purmort has to say. No, no … that’s not what’s stupid. That she or anyone else still needs to say it is what’s stupid.

And, yes, I get to be disappointed that we must have this discussion.

‡

The Marco Rubio Show (Mansplanation)

“Obviously, my faith has a teaching that governs me in my personal life on these issues. But I think our laws on those issues are different.”

―Sen. Marco Rubio (R-FL)

There really is a lot going on, but we also just need to get this one out of the way:

Rubio also said that he does not support measures to ban emergency contraceptives and intrauterine devices (IUD), which some anti-abortion groups contend cause abortions.

“I don’t want to ban any contraceptive efforts,” Rubio said. “Obviously, my faith has a teaching that governs me in my personal life on these issues. But I think our laws on those issues are different.”

(Richardson)

Just … okay, work with me, here. Please.

If your religious faith resolved as such to govern your decision in such a fashion that it is acceptable for you to use an IUD, Mr. Rubio, then what, exactly, would you do with it?

The problem with the Florida junior’s sort of evasion is that the maneuver involves digging a hole in very unstable ground. There is no good way out.

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Richardson, Bradford. “Rubio vows to end Iran agreement if elected”. The Hill. 9 August 2015.