Pro-Choice: To have slaves... or not! Mykel Board's Post-MRR Column 9

 YOU'RE STILL WRONG

POST MRR COLUMN NO. 9

Mykel is pro-choice: To Have Slaves or Not

by Mykel Board

"The freedom for which Davy Crockett, James Bowie and the rest fought at the Alamo was the freedom to own slaves. As soon as Anglos set up the Republic of Texas, its legislature ordered all free black people out of the Republic.” --James W. Loewin

“One of the things freedom requires is that we allow people to be boorish and uncivilized. But that doesn’t mean we approve of it.” – Rand Paul on the faults of the 1964 Civil Rights Act which outlawed racial discrimination at private businesses.

It happens all the time... an itchy nose... an errant hair grows from inside and begins to tickle. Micron by invisible micron, it lengthens and begins to press its way out, invisible in the mirror... but more and more irritating.

I run my index finger under my nostril. Ah, there it is! I squeeze the hair between my thumbnail and finger. Pull! A hard fast downward jerk. Damn.. slipped right through... still there... invading the privacy of my nostril. Try again, this time squeezing hard, digging my nail against my finger until it bleeds... almost. JERK HARD... there's ping of pain inside my nose. I DID IT.

I examine the hair. The whole thing, I got it. From gray tip to white root. There it is. I drop it in the waste basket and celebrate my new nasal freedom from irritants. Then I think... what about that single nosehair?

Here's the deal: Rand Paul and several other “Libertarians” claim that the idea of freedom is the right to make your own choices, free from government interference.

They say the 1964 Civil Rights bill, passed under Lyndon Johnson, takes away the freedom of restaurant and hotel owners to refuse to serve whoever they damn well please to refuse to serve.

Sheldon Richman, a Libertarian writer for the Christian Science Monitor sums it up:

I write as a Libertarian, something Rand Paul claims not to be. The essence of the Libertarian philosophy is that each person owns him- or herself and whatever belongings he or she honestly acquires. Thus individuals are due freedom of association and, logically, non-association. It also follows that the owner of property should be free to set the rules of use, the only constraint being that the owner may not use aggressive force against others.

Admittedly, that leaves room for loathsome peaceful behavior, such as running a whites-only lunch counter. Who imagined that freedom of association couldn’t have its ugly side?

Nevertheless, individuals are either free to do anything peaceful or they are not. If politicians decide, we have arbitrary government. But government is force, and force is moral only in response to force.

[Flash to an alternate 1963] The segregated South gets whiff of the Civil Rights plans. There's a meeting in the basement of the Baptist church in Lubbock, Texas: a dozen men, each with his rifle. Tough-talking Sheriff “Wild” Bill Jackson tells the assembled crew:

“I know Johnson,” he says. “He used to be one of us. Now, he wants to take away our rights... like Lincoln did... He needs the same solution. You ready boys?”

“We're ready Bill,” comes the reply.

“Let's go,” says Bill.

It's inauguration day. Lyndon is taking over from Kennedy. We're in Washington DC for the swear-in... somewhere behind an alternate grassy knoll..

PEKYUUU! Johnson's dead as a Kennedy. President Humphrey has all the support of Klansman in Harlem. There is no Civil Rights Act.

The lunch counter sit-ins in Greensboro spread throughout the segregated South. To Woolworth's, to diners, to catfish shacks from Myrtle Beach to El Paso. Colored folks walk into restaurants and just sit, waiting to be served. Often there is trouble.

“Now you boys just go to your own places,” says a waitress. “People like to be with their own kind.”

“But we want to eat here,” says a coffee-colored young man. “This is a public place, and we're the public.”

“If you don't leave,” says the clerk, “I'm afraid I'm gonna have to call the law.”

“Now,” says the young man, “we're just sitting here-- not causing any problem.”

Before long, the cops come. “You're under arrest, boys!”

They refuse to leave. There is violence.

Wake-up buckaroos. Can't you get it? BOTH SIDES need to use the force of government. The Civil Rights Act says that owners of public accommodations must serve everyone. If they don't, then the government uses force (fines, police protection etc) to ensure they do.

By Libertarian rules, if colored folks sit at a whites-only lunch counter, and the owner has a “right” not to serve them, what does he do? He can use force (private cops) to get them out, and if they fight back POW! Call the city cops and have the government use force.

The question is NOT intimidation by government force, but only which side is intimidated. It's too easy to only think about the nostril and forget the reality of the nosehair.

Libertarians would allow slavery, because it should be a private CHOICE whether or not to have slaves. Right? But what about the SLAVES' choice? Libertarians oppose the minimum wage, because it should be the employer's CHOICE how much to pay his employees. But what about the EMPLOYEES' choice?

Oh yeah, don't tell me they can just leave and find other jobs. With high unemployment, there are NO other jobs. And double oh yeah, Libertarians oppose unemployment benefits. Can you say SLAVERY?

More recently, these Libertarians, along with a gaggle of religious rightists are asking the government for the “right” for corporations to refuse to serve-- or provide for-- people based on their religious beliefs.

Take Mormonism... please! Mormons used to believe colored people were less than human. Their skin was cursed by God for some past sin I'm too lazy to Google. Recently-- probably due to Mitt Romney's inability to crack the double digits among black voters-- the Later Day Saints have relented. For Mormons, Negro nosehairs are now just as good as white nosehairs. It reminds me of the 1960s Catholics unblaming the Jews for killing Christ. Gee thanks.

But imagine pre-Romney Mormons owning a restaurant and that restaurant refusing to serve Negroes because their “religion prohibits it!” Is that freedom? What about the Negroes?

A couple months ago I wrote about the Crown Heights riots in Brooklyn. After a colored kid was struck by a car in a Lubavitch procession, a Lubavitch ambulance appeared... and picked up the driver.

Since I wrote that, I found out that the driver had been attacked by a mob and the pick-up was for his protection. Good reason. But, couldn't they have picked up the kid too? I dunno. Maybe there was a religious reason.

Let's go to 1990... an alternate 1990. A Libertarian world. Little Moishe Pippik is crossing Steinway Street in the Middle East section of Queens. He steps into the crosswalk. The motorcade of Imam Jooshmoo comes to the crosswalk at the same time.

SPLATT! Looks like little Moishe is not going to make it to his Bar Mitzvah.

WEEOOO WEEOOO BLAU BLAU BLAU WEEOO WEEOO, a Sheik-Saver volunteer ambulance pulls up to the front of the motorcade. The Imam gets in. Little Moishe goes to meet that other Moishe in Jewish heaven. Of course, there is a riot.

Could you imagine a city (country? world?) where an ambulance, say from Columbia Presbyterian Hospital would only pick up Presbyterians? What about the guy lying in the street? Should he just wait for the right ambulance? Do they check his religious ID card? Doesn't sound like freedom at all.

“Should Muslim butchers have to serve pork?” shout the Libertarians.

“Of course not,” I say, “but they have to serve Jews.”

If they're public butchers, licensed to operate on the public streets of the city, they have to serve everyone. There is no requirement that butchers serve pork at all. No public pork license... no mandated meat... only that it be uncontaminated..

It's a little different with Hobby Lobby. That company is owned by Evangelicals. Because of the owners' religious beliefs, they refuse to provide their employees with some kinds of contraception (as required by law). The law already exempts religious institutions from having to provide these benefits, but HOBBY LOBBY is not a religious group. It's a company open for business with a government (state, Federal tax ID) license. There IS a law that says employer insurance must pay for birth control for its employees.

Does Hobby Lobby have the “religious freedom” to deny benefits to their employees? If that's their freedom, what about the EMPLOYEES?

FLASH TO ALTERNATE 2014: I've got a shopping list of things to do: a visit to the doctor for a check-up, a visit to the drug store for stomach medication... and condoms, to replace the ones in my wallet-- expired 1999. Then to the grocery store for coffee and shrimp for dinner.

“Hey, doc,” I say, “it's time for a health check. Gotta see if I'm gonna make it to another birthday.”

“Sorry Mykel,” says Doc, “I've converted to Pentecostal. I don't examine or work with anyone who drinks alcohol. My apologies and I hope you'll see the error of your ways and give up drinking.”

Shit! What am I going to do now? My insurance is limited. I can only get a check-up from an “in-network” doctor. I'll have to find another doc. Do they list their religions on the web? Maybe I'll just skip it this year.

So, I'm off to the pharmacy for my stomach medication. I have chronic heartburn... GERD... and need to take a stupid brown pill every day to stop the pain.

I walk to the back of CVS and give a pretty young clerk my prescription. She hands it back to me.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Board,” she says. “I'm a Christian Scientist. We believe that God alone heals us. Drugs and doctors are like voodoo... black magic... prayer makes healing... not drugs.”

And you can guess how far I get looking for condoms. I feel like a discarded nosehair.

So what about Hobby Lobby? The law says that employers of over 20 people have to provide healthcare for those people. “Healthcare” is defined to include birth control.

ASIDE: I don't like Obamacare, but my reasons have nothing to do with religious rights. I believe that it's the duty of the GOVERNMENT to “provide for the general welfare” of its citizens. (Article 1 section 8 of the US Constitution) If health isn't “general welfare” I don't know what is. Employers shouldn't be burdened with this. It's the job-- the main job-- of government. But Obamacare is the law: for everyone. END OF ASIDE

Companies do not have religion. Corporations do not get Bar Mitzvahed. Starbucks will not have a first communion. Catholic bookstores, if they're in a church, do not have to provide abortions for their employees. But a company? A store? How can they be free to choose among benefits in the name of religion? What about the EMPLOYEES' choice?

I'd write more, but my nose itches.

ENDNOTES: [You can contact me by email at god@mykelboard.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003.]

-->Don't plug my loophole baby dept: Loopholes4all.com is a website that gives you a foreign address, a company, and an offshore bank account where you can safely stash your dozens of dollars without the feds knowing. The website says it's "a service to democratize offshore business for people who don't want to pay for their riches. It empowers everyone to evade taxes, hide money and debt and get away with anything, by stealing the identities of real offshore companies."

PayPal has suspended all payments to Loopholes... An interesting development, since PayPal avoids paying US taxes by situating itself in Luxembourg. Is that offshore enough for you?

-->Maybe it's the language dept: Montreal Mayor Michael Applebaum was the first English-speaking mayor of the city in more than a century. He was elected in 2013 with a campaign promise to "end an era of sleaze" in the city government. He recently resigned after being arrested for fraud. He is accused of accepting bribes for awarding construction permits. In Toronto, the (of course English-speaking) mayor has resisted calls to quit over a crack-smoking scandal. In fact, he's running for re-election.

-->Sounds like the CIA dept: Lots of Brazilians have been protesting the 2014 World Cup and 2016 Olympics. Like the Olympics, the World Cup is high status, but really bad for the locals. The influx of tourists causes huge price increases, and housing shortages. Often locals find themselves in near lock-downs in the name of "security." But these protests have the smell of something more. The Brazilian President, Dilma Rousseff, was a leftist activist and she is loved by many on the left. The vehemence of the protests says that there may be something more than Olympiphobia behind them. Anyway, that's where I'd place my bets.

-->Sometimes conspiracies are true dept: Anytime someone accuses the government of being bad, and not telling people it was bad, you hear "It's some conspiracy nut." Trouble is... lots of conspiracies are true.

ABC News revealed that, in the early 1960s, America's top military leaders drafted plans to kill innocent people and commit acts of terrorism in U.S. cities. Why? To create public support for a war against Cuba. Code named Operation Northwoods, the plans reportedly included the possible assassination of Cuban émigrés, sinking boats of Cuban refugees on the high seas, hijacking planes, blowing up a U.S. ship, and even orchestrating violent terrorism in U.S. cities.

Makes that stuff about the The World Trade Center seem... er... plausible, doesn't it?

-->Keeping the pressure on dept: I want to thank reader George Metesky for suggesting a Bring Back Mykel concerted effort directed at Maximum Rock'n'Roll. He forwarded me an answer to a letter MRR printed where the editors excuse my firing not as censorship for content, but because I “refuse to answer letters in the letters section.”

That is not true. I only asked that I be allowed to say I don't LIKE to answer letters in the letters section. It's unfair to the letter-writer for the columnist to always get the last word. If MRR demands I answer there, I will. SO, here I'm publicly agreeing to abide by their rules. Here it is in ones and zeros. Their excuse for censoring me disappears.

I hope you'll cut and paste the paragraph above into an email, and send it-- along with your comments-- to mrr@maximumrocknroll.com with the subject line: BRING BACK MYKEL. Let me know how they answer.

MRR also has a facebook page, (as does (did?) Mariam Bastani, the girl who fired me. In any case, you can't get to her page from here. It may be gone.) You might want to let them know how you feel in any case. 

-end-

If you like my writing, you can be notified when anything new is available by joining the MYKEL'S READERS Yahoo group readmboard-subscribe@yahoogroups.com You're also welcome to use that group to have discussions, ask questions, etc. Personal attacks though, will be deleted.

And I almost forgot. I'm on a massive clean-up/divest kick. I'm giving away DVDs, Cassettes, VHS videos, CDs. Just pay the postage. Details at: tinyurl.com/MykelsGiveaway

Why I Wear Black (today) ! Mykel Board's Post-MRR Column 8

YOU'RE STILL WRONG

POST MRR COLUMN No. 8

by Mykel Board

aka Today I Wear Black

“This nation is poised to trash the first amendment just to stop my preaching. I'm kind of honored.” --Fred Phelps

The enemy? Hey: it could be like Sid Vicious in his swastika shirt… singing My Way. What could be punker in the 21st century than becoming a Muslim? --Mykel Board writing about Islam as Punk in 2012

It's Friday, March 21. I wear black because FRED PHELPS, founder of Westboro Baptist Church, has kicked the bucket. Actually, I wear black every day. I live in New York and am an old punkrocker, so OF COURSE I wear black. Today, I have an additional reason.

According to CNN Phelps was often called "the most hated man in America." I bet he loved the label.

"If I had nobody mad at me," he said, "what right would I have to claim that I was preaching the Gospel?"

There is more to it than that. Phelps had an additional reason.

Fred was probably most famous for picketing the funerals of U.S. servicemen. He and his followers claimed the soldiers' deaths were related to increased tolerance of homosexuality, rather than... oh let's say ...increased U.S. belligerence and aggression against the rest of the world. Wacky, huh? I don't think so.

I say Fred Phelps was a punk. I've written before about Asperger's Syndrome. Victims of A.S. lack empathy for others. They can't tell what other people think, so they say and do inappropriate things. They're not aware of what will offend.

I also described a variant. I call it AsburgerKING Syndrome. In that one, people say and do things BECAUSE they'll offend. AsburgerKing is punk.

Now let's take a look at Fred Phelps:

He moves to Topeka Kansas on May 4, 1954. In these pre-preacher times, he's a practicing lawyer. He moves the day the Supreme Court decides the case of Brown vs. Board of Education. The court says that school segregation is illegal. The idea of separate-but-equal is not viable. Separate cannot be equal, they decide.

It's the beginning of desegregation... and busing. White people are furious at the prospect of their little Johnny or Mary going to school with little LeRoy or Kesha!

So, in his new home in this white state in the near south, what would the most annoying, hateful job be... especially for a lawyer? Yep, INTEGRATION LAW! Suing white schools on behalf of black constituents. Let the colored folks in! Now!

And guess what Fred Phelps Esq. takes it on himself to do... at discount rates? You guessed it! Be a lawyer against the white schools! Push the colored folks on them!

Rev. Ben Scott, president of the NAACP's Topeka branch, talks to CNN.

“Fred Phelps?” He says, “Most blacks -- that's who they went to, I don't know if he was cheaper or if he had that stick-to-it-ness, but Fred didn't lose many back then."

Sounds pretty punk to me.

The nineties brought a change in attitude. Many saw it as a liberalization of thinking. For me, it was a new quest for normalcy... but that's a different column... several of them.

In any case, Negritude became less of an issue. Most people either didn't care, or supported Fred in the integration effort. The new controversy was Homotude.

It's the early 90s: homo movements are noisy enough to encourage a “hands off” attitude by the locals. Fred tests the homo waters in 1991. He appears as the new pastor at Westboro Baptist Church, most of whose members are in the Phelps family. Using the church pulpit as a stage, Fred publicly complains about the city of Wichita's “refusing to stop homosexual activity in a public park.”

He makes a few waves, and is soon forgotten.

1998: Matthew Shepard is murdered in Wyoming. Though there is now some controversy surrounding his death, in 1998, the world is convinced Shepard was murdered because of his sexuality. Even conservatives are shocked by the brutal slaying.

America's homosexuals jump on the murder, using Shepard as a posterboy for homophobia. Every objection to homotude is met with “that's just what Matthew Shepard's murderer said.” Even the Catholic church shuts up for a while.

In steps Rev. Phelps, and the Westboro crew. They assemble... all dozen or so of them... and picket Shepard's funeral. Pictures of their notorious GOD HATES FAGS posters are in every newspaper from here to Timbukthree. It's Sid Vicious with his swastika shirt, singing My Way-- yet again. Westboro is the Filth and the Fury. Labeled up and down as HATERS, they instantly become the HATED.

Outrage pours from Americans like beer from Oktoberfest taps. Left and right shake in their collective boots: army, cowboy, or recycled imitation leather. This guy is EVIL!

The hate-baiting Southern Poverty Law Center calls Westboro Baptist "arguably the most obnoxious and rabid hate group in America."

Over on the other side, Jerry Falwell, not exactly Mr. Tolerance himself, answers those who accuse Westboro of giving right-wing religious zealots a bad name. He calls Phelps “a hatemonger” and “unbalanced.”

“Fred Phelps does not give the religious right a bad name,” says Falwell, “because nobody claims kin to that guy.”

Damned right! Nobody would.

When Falwell dies, there's Fred and his crew at the funeral.

“Falwell split Hell wide open" says Fred... at the cemetary... And he's there... with another great sign: GOD IS AMERICA'S TERRORIST. I don't get it either, but I love it.

Fred knows if he sticks to picketing religious right-wingers and homos, he'll again be shuffled off to the side, ignored. Most Americans are neither religious maniacs nor fudge packers.

Opportunity knocks in 2003. The Supreme Court strikes down anti-sodomy laws. The homo movement turns from Homotude as exceptional... and legalizing the right to be exceptional... to Homotude as just like everybody else. The right to marry replaces the right to screw in the park bushes. Gay people abandon punkdom for white picket fences.

Fear not, Fred will pick up the slack.

Phelps understands that the glue holding America together is... well... Americans. And the glue that holds Americans together is the love of people in uniform-- American uniforms.

From The VFW to Veterans for Peace, Americans love soldiers-- especially dead ones. Arlington Virginia Military Cemetery has as many visitors as Disneyland. Let some veteran into a ballpark... and there'll be a ceremony. An incalculable number of minutes-of-silence^® have been spent on people who did nothing more than murder their fellow human beings-- and in turn get murdered by them. Americans can't get enough of flag-draped coffins.

So, where do Fred Phelps and the Westboro dozen go? You guessed it, to MILITARY FUNERALS. And not with just any picket sign. What's gonna offend most? Would you believe THANK GOD FOR DEAD SOLDIERS? Or PRAY FOR MORE DEAD SOLDIERS?

This is what makes Phelps so punkrock. He takes the most precious idea... the thing Americans hold dearest... almost all Americans... and he pisses on it.

There are trials... arrests. Fred's case goes all the way to the Supreme Court. Amazingly, in 2011, the court upholds Westboro's right to picket military funerals. Unhappy at that, Congress and several states pass laws requiring some distance between the pickets and the funeral. Other states try more obstructionist tactics. Everybody hates Fred.

In 2013, more than 367,000 petitioners ask the White House to legally recognize Westboro Baptist Church as A HATE GROUP. The White House calls Westboro's protests "reprehensible" but says "as a matter of practice, the federal government doesn't maintain a list of hate groups." Yeah, right.

But that's not the point. What IS the point is that Phelps chose his targets to maximize offense-- not to make a statement. I doubt he believed half of he said. Check it out:

Denmark legalized gay marriage long before the U.S. did. Was Phelps out there damning the Danes? Where were the GOD HATES DENMARK signs? How 'bout HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN WAS A PEDOPHILE? Pickets at the funerals of anybody whose last name ends in SEN? It didn't happen. Denmark has five million people. Most of them don't give a little mermaid's ass what happens in the U.S. Attack Denmark? Why? There's nobody to offend.

Fred wasn't against homosexuality any more than I'm against fellatio! He was an agitator, a rabble-rouser, a troublemaker. A punk.

When the band Guest Shot filmed a “porno” (actually just a girl clit diddling herself) on Westboro church grounds, Fred could have called the cops. This wasn't picketing. This was trespassing. But there was NO reaction from the Westboro crew? Why? Because that too was punk. It was something Phelps could understand and appreciate.

So at 84, Fred Phelps is gone. And with his death, I'm afraid, will go the spirit of the church. The spirit of punk.

If I can get Fred's kind of reaction when I'm his age, it'll be a dream come true. In the meantime, I just sit in front of my Toshiba laptop, typing this column-- wearing black for a good reason.

--end--

ENDNOTES: [You can contact me by email at god@mykelboard.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified when anything new is available by joining the MYKEL'S READERS Yahoo group readmboard-subscribe@yahoogroups.com]

-->Like a Virgin dept: The town of Virgin, Utah requires a fee from residents who want to comment on zoning and planning issues at Town Council meetings. They have to pay $25 for the "right," according to a new law. Two years before, the town tried to require homeowners to have guns for self-defense. That law was struck down by the courts.

For me, that's a perfect representation of our democracy. Free speech to anyone who can afford the price-- and a gun to enforce it.

-->Women are the oppressed ones? dept: You'd expect that in a society that values men over women... and oppresses women... and creates a patriarchy... women would be unhappier than men. You'd expect that women would be offing themselves at twice (or more) the rate that men do. Why live under such oppression? Why just not take half a dozen pills and end it all?

Well, that's not the case. The Guardian reports “Male suicide rate in the UK is 3½ times that of women.” Wikipedia tells of a similar disparity among US suicides. So, who has the harder life? The most misery? Hmmm?

-->Why is MRR like the NFL? dept: Readers of my post MRR columns know that the reason for my being fired from that zine was my insistence on using the word “nigger” rather than Ni**er, when quoting someone who originally used that word. Now the NFL follows suit.

Instead of firing players who use that word on the field, the team will be penalized 15 yards for each use. You can bet your black ass that the first person to use the word will NOT be white.

John Wooten, head of the Fritz Pollard Association, wants the rule extended: “We want this word to be policed from the parking lot to the equipment room to the locker room. Secretaries, PR people, whoever, we want it eliminated completely and want it policed everywhere.” He says.

Guess who the policing will hurt most. It always does.

-end

Stop Treating People Like THINGS! Mykel Board's Post-MRR Column 7

YOU'RE STILL WRONG

POST MRR COLUMNS

NUMBER 7

by Mykel Board

What connects us, what relates us, is our certainty that each of us is real, and how we take that profound fact in whatever, together, we do. – John Stoltenberg

This is one of those columns that's inspired by a book. In previous “book-columns,” the inspiration has been great books by great writers. Wonderful ideas by people I respect: Celine, J.G. Ballard, Phillip Wylie. There are more.

This month is different. This column was inspired by someone who is so wrong, that at times he seems like a parody. By a man who writes: All pornography exists because it connects to some man's sexuality somewhere. There's no other reason. This is a guy who's never perused spreadxxx.com (Kicked off the internet, sorry. Best lesbo-for-lesbo site ever!).

The man is John Stoltenberg. The book, appropriately enough, is called Refusing to Be A Man. The book makes (very) occasional good points, though the author gets a D- for run-on sentences.

To be “oriented” toward a particular sex as the object of one's sexual expressivity means, in effect, having a sexuality that is like target practice-- keeping it aimed at bodies who display a particular sexual definition above all else, picking out which one to want, which one to get, which one to have. Self-consciousness about one's “sexual orientation” keeps the issue of gender central.

Okay, that's something I've been saying for years, though in a better way. But Stoltenberg is usually as wrong as he is verbose. Try this one:

Every economic system devised by men-- whether capitalism or communism or socialism-- is designed to defend male ownership of the bodies and labor of women. (Obviously, this guy's never been to Sweden.) Or A male must not identify with females, he must not associate with females in feeling, interests, or action. His identity as a member of the sex class men absolutely depends on the extent to which he repudiates the values and interests of the sex class women. (Obviously, this guy's never watched The Food Channel.)

I cannot say I read the book with an open mind. I'd heard the author was Andrea Dworkin's significant other. Oy vey! The book is certainly filled with her quotes. I did read it with curiosity-- and amazement-- like my liberal friends watch Fox News... how can people think this way?

The author spends much of the book complaining about objectification. That is the idea that men see women as things rather than looking at them as complete human beings. To be a real man, says Stoltenberg, you have to divorce yourself from the feelings, life and emotions of the person you're having sex with. You have to think like you're fucking (or in porn, watching) a THING. This is the central idea of the book.

So it got me thinking. Objectification is not seeing the whole person, but rather using the person-- or an image of the person-- as a THING. The theory is that we should always recognize the whole human being... not just jerk off to a squirting twat or pumping beef whistle-- but consider the person as a living entity with thoughts, needs and emotions.

I'm not exactly sure you can consider the human needs of a bunch of ones and zeroes residing on hard drives at Broke Straight Boys DOT com, but that's the idea.

But why only in sex? Sex, unfortunately, is a very small part of my daily life... even if you include jerking off. Don't we objectify people in ALL our activities? Maybe it's time we stop... start looking at people as full human beings... everywhere. Maybe it's time to humanize everything... not just the genitals.

I'm on the Number 6 train... on the way home from work. It's late. I've been out drinking at the Korean bar with some students. Almost a quarter hour passes before a train pulls into Grand Central. I get in a nearly empty car, sit down, and begin to read my primer on Hangul. Learn Hangul in One Hour. Yeah, right.

At 33^rd Street, the door opens. In a cartoon-like cloud of fetor, a stinking wretch stumbles in. A white guy... mid-thirties, with a Duck Dynasty beard... stinking of piss and body odor. Of course, he sits next to me... not sits exactly, but slumps. I need to jump... to move away from this... this malodorous THING... Then I realize. I'm objectifying.

“You must be miserable,” I tell him, speaking to the person behind the object. “Tell me what you're feeling.”

“Iyablahgazzid,” says the human, resting his body against my shoulder.

“I understand,” I tell him. “And this train-ride, is it good for you? Is it something you want to do? Or were you coerced into it by social circumstances or physical weakness?”

“Godaplassikflah,” he says.

“Of course,” I answer.

By now, we're reached the next station. More people have entered the car. Once the stench reaches their nostrils, they stand and huddle at the opposite end of the car... or near the door... waiting to rush out at the next stop. Those callous commuters... they see some repulsive THING rather than understand a whole human.

When the doors open, they bolt. I continue my exercise in humanizing.

“My stop is coming up,” I tell the human, now asleep and drooling on my shoulder. “I'll try to make you comfortable in your misery.”

Gently, I lift his head off my shoulder and lay him down across the seats. I pick up a few discarded newspapers and scrunch them up. Ah, an almost presentable pillow. I put my right hand under the non-objectified human head-- it feels like a greasy coconut-- and lift it up. With my left hand, I push the newspaper pillow underneath.

The train stops, I get out and walk to my favorite bar in Manhattan! I'm a little early, so I enjoy the walk. There is fresh snow on the sides of the street. Dingy New York has a beautiful coat of white paint. The only part I don't like is by the creepy dark NYU buildings of Washington Square Village. Huge Corbusieresque buildings... a block long... ugly as an anal wart. They're the places where the (lower) faculty and staff live. Ugly cinder-block apartments-- one on top of the other-- with three covered entrances. Outside, the buildings are dark and menacing. Ironically, inside is a playground. It's one of the few family friendly places in Greenwich Village.

I pass the buildings and walk into the West Village and then The Peculier Pub. Behind the bar is Kate, my favorite... and most amply bazoomed bartendress. STOP... I'm not objectifying! Back up... Behind the bar is Kate, a wonderfully sensitive young woman from Florida. Her life is a secret, but I can see that, every day, people treat her like... like... a bartender. Not like a human being.

The place is nearly empty and Kate is using her ample... time... to straighten it up and wipe down the bar. She speaks to me.

“Evening, Mykel,” she says, “how's... What's that funny smell?”

“It's the smell of another human being,” I tell her. “It rubbed off on me, like kindness rubs off on a stray dog..”

“Are you all right, Mykel?” she asks.

“I feel your oppression, Kate,” I tell her. “I know that you're forced to rely on using your body to squeeze tips out of customers. I know how that makes you, every day, a victim of the patriarchy.... Not a victim, of course, but a survivor.”

I rest my hand on hers, rubbing the bar rag it holds between my pinkie and ring finger.

“Let me clean the bar,” I tell her. “You are forced to stand on your feet all day. People treat you like an object, expecting you to serve them.”

“Of course they expect me to serve them, Mykel,” she says, “I'm a bartender.”

“You are also a human being,” I say, searching for her eyes with mine. “You have feelings, a whole personality. You are more than just your beer tap-pulling hands or your customer-attracting boo... er... attractions. People see you, but they don't see YOU! They see an object... something to serve them.”

“Mykel,” she says, “you're making a scene.”

“A scene?” I say. “Did you say a scene? Like in a play? Where the actors on stage are just objects to the audience. Where people look at them like puppets... objects with strings and talking heads. This is not a scene. This is life! We are not actors. WE ARE HUMAN BEINGS!”

I can feel my voice raising. A man at the bar-- late 50s, carefully trimmed gray beard... bushy gray hair... professorial-looking... gets up from his bar stool and walks over to us. His eyebrows come together in a wrinkle. He speaks to Kate.

“Are you all right, Kate?” he asks her. “Is this guy giving you any trouble?”

I turn to him.

“And YOU!” I shout at him, releasing Kate's hand and stepping back. “And YOU! With your macho posturing. Trying to save the damsel in distress. All you care about is getting laid. You think playing the big hero will get you into her pants. You barely even think about what's between her legs! You only think about what's between YOURS!”

I'm trembling now.

He doesn't look at me, but I can tell he's shaken up.

He leans over to speak into Kate's ear. I hear every word.

“I think you'd better call 911,” he says.

I'm outta there, walking back to my apartment... same direction as the subway. I pass the evil Washington Square Village. A white woman comes out of one of the buildings. In her early 30s, she hides her body under a long coat. A colorful babushka is wrapped around her head. She pushes a stroller with a white child in it. (That's a rarity here in Nannyville. I mean a white woman pushing a white child in a stroller.) The child, about a year old , is bundled up in a yellow snowsuit and knitted yellow toque. The woman comes down the small driveway and crosses my path.

“Hello,” I say to her. “Cute little one you've got there.”

“Her name is Madison,” says the woman. “We're just going out to enjoy the night.”

“Have you considered what Madison wants?” I ask.

“Huh?” asks the mom.

“Just because she's small... a child... That doesn't mean she's a subhuman,” I tell her. “Children are humans. They have feelings. Are you sure you have CONSENT before you take the child out? What if she doesn't want to be in the coldness of the city? What if she feels lonely... all by herself... confined to a three-wheeled machine? Have you tried to find out about her feelings... and not just treat her like a THING... A CHILD?”

“Listen Mister,” says mom. “Who are you to tell me how to raise my child? How many children do YOU have?”

“Have?” I ask. “You say HAVE? Like HAVE a car? HAVE a bagel? HAVE a mutual fund? You HAVE THINGS. You don't HAVE people... unless you treat them like things.”

“Fuck you!” she says.

“Now you're looking at ME like a thing,” I tell her, “a sex object that you abuse in a sexual way. You are exploiting me by not seeing my humanity. You are objectifying me.”

The woman stands stone still. I can hear her teeth grind. From the corner of eye, I see the flash of something large and square... maybe a pocketbook. Then there is nothing. Then there is the feeling of cold beneath my cheek. A rough cold... snow. I'm lying on the sidewalk, something sticky on the side of my face. I gotta get up. Get home.

I push my hands against the sidewalk and force my upper body to rise from the muck. I walk my hands back, and raise myself to a doggie position. Then, slowly, unsteadily, I make it to my feet. I can't think straight. It takes a second or two to get my bearings. Very slowly, unsteadily, I walk to my apartment building, let myself in, and go up to my apartment.

Once inside, I look in the mirror. There is a bruise from chin to cheek. Little flecks of blood mix with the snow and car grime on my face. The eyes on the face in the mirror stare glazedly into mine. What are you thinking? I ask that face. What are you feeling right now-- as a human being?

ENDNOTES: [You can contact me by email at god@mykelboard.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified when anything new is available by joining the MYKEL'S READERS Yahoo group readmboard-subscribe@yahoogroups.com]

--> Hard to believe dept: People are complaining that J.C. Penny's and Forever 21 are marketing t-shirts to girls. The shirts say things like Allergic to Algebra and I'm Too Pretty To Do Homework So My Brother Does It For Me. The complaint? The shirts “send the wrong message” to school-age girls. But the protesters have it backwards. This is capitalism... you sell what people WANT. Hey buckaroos, those shirts wouldn't sell if girls didn't think that in the first place. It's not sending a message. It's receiving one! You're complaining to the wrong side.

--> There's a magazine I'm NOT going to subscribe to dept: A study published in the December 2000 International Journal of Impotence Research found that average erect penis length in 50 Jewish Caucasian males was 13.6 cm (5.35 in) An earlier study conducted by LifeStyles Condoms found an average of 14.9 cm (5.9 in) among all U.S. Males.

Yeah we're shorter... but we're also smarter.

-->Sorry to report dept: Marty Thau died this month. He was 75. For those who don't know, he was a punk rock pioneer. Manager of the New York Dolls, he was also the brains and money behind Red Star records. That company produced the SUICIDE LP, one of the best records ever. I did not know Marty well, but that guy had taste... and balls.

-->What the frack? dept: So an earthquake hits the U.S. South and people are shocked! How could such a thing happen? There are no plates there to move like in California or Japan. In 2011, there was a tremor in Virginia. This year, it was at the South Carolina-Georgia border. So, quick... to the fracking map. Nothing on the SC-Georgia border... but plenty close. Very heavy in Mississippi, a bunch in East Tennessee. And Virginia last year? BINGO.

And look at all that fracking in New Mexico? Can you say underground radiation leak?

-->Keeping the pressure on: I want to thank reader George Metesky for suggesting a Bring Back Mykel concerted effort directed at Maximum Rock'n'Roll. He forwarded me an answer to a letter MRR printed where the editors excuse my firing not as censorship for content, but because I “refuse to answer letters in the letters section.”

That is wrong. I only asked that I be allowed to say I don't LIKE to answer letters in the letters section. It's unfair to the letter-writer for the columnist to always get the last word. If they want me to answer there, I will. SO, here I'm publicly agreeing to abide by their rules. Here it is in ones and zeroes. Their excuse for censoring me disappears.

I hope you'll cut and paste the paragraph above into an email, and send it-- along with your comments-- to mrr@maximumrocknroll.com with the subject line: BRING BACK MYKEL. Let me know how they answer.

MRR also has a facebook page, (as does as Mariam Bastani, the girl who fired me, but I can't link to her... she's banned from my webpage). You might want to let them know how you feel.

-end-