Molly and Dollop: Conversations with the Master

How is Your Organ Doing?

MOLLY:
The Indian Government wants me to report my menstrual cycles at work.  What if I don’t have any?

DOLLOP:

It won’t hurt to just pick a day of the month and pretend.  You might try to be observed buying tampons, too.

The All-India Services Performance Appraisal Rules 2007 ask that all female civil servants – 400 out of 4,000 workers, report the dates of their menstrual periods in work appraisal forms, for the government’s review.  They will also be asked when they last took maternity leave.

The reason for this new policy is that the India Government cares very much about the health of their women, and they are starting with those in the employ of the civil service.  The information will help them keep a “finger on the pulse” of women’s uteruses.  They can intervene when things seem “irregular.”  Of course they would like to do this for the entire population of India – all 500 million women – but it is not feasible.  It will be a perk of civil service to have close, caring attention.  The men performing annual work appraisals will be trained to inspect the detailed records of their female supervisees and factor the information in their assessment of whether a woman is really up to her job, based on the contractions of her uterus.

This means that potentially 3,600 caring male civil servants can be sure that the women in their workplace (only 1 in 10 workers) are regular.  The information will be put on an intranet for added convenience. 

In fact, a whole new office is being created to handle the data entry and to program the reports that are needed to fully utilize the information.  The Bureau of Female Menstrual Performance and Monitoring is being created.  They will make it easy for women to log their data directly from any computer.  And, they will program graphs and charts that will show “bleeding rates” by individual, organizational unit, job category, age, prior job experience, salary, geographical location, marital status, and other important facets implicit in a very thorough “finger on the civil servant uterus.”  Of course, a special quality control unit will be part of the new “Blood Management” group, and they may have to do personal interviews and spot-checks to verify quality of data.  A very high Federal spokesman has expressed concern that “this must be done properly.”  The database will add an estimated 5,000 data records per year.

Shy women have been allowed to call this activity “logging the rag,” or reporting “visits from Aunt Flo.”

Annual fitness and health appraisals are required for civil servants in India.  When the men heard about the new policy, they were incensed.  “What about us?” they asked.  “Is our health not worthy of special attention and monitoring?”

In response to the outcry and protest about being left out, the Appraisal Board formed a Special Task Force on Male Health Indicators.  After an intense 3-month retreat to a houseboat in Kashmir, during the hot season, the Task Force of 35 men came up with a solution.  They proposed that proper indicators for the health of men should track how they are doing in their bowels and prostate.

The new policy regarding men will have them report – even more frequently that the women, they were pleased to hear – every bowel movement, and every erection.  A second Bureau of Male Organ Performance and Management will be formed, and it will be MUCH bigger than the Bureau of Female Menstrual Performance.  They will have a nicer system, also available from any computer in the civil service.  The group will have spacious offices in the best suburb of Delhi.  They will produce charts by individual, organizational unit, job category, age, prior job experience, salary, geographical location, marital status, and other important facets implicit in a very thorough “finger on the civil servant penis.”    The database for men will add at least 2.5 million data records per year.

Male civil servants were quite pleased with the new policy, as they would indeed generate more data, and thus get more attention and resources.  They felt the world should know that they are “regular,” and maybe even “superb,” and, that their prostates were getting proper exercise.  In fact, a pilot data capture conducted by the Bureau of Male Organs (a.k.a. “Rise Up and Purge”) found an astonishing rate of 25 erections per day reported for the average civil servant.

Everyone knows that India is a very large country of 1.1 billion people struggling with issues of massive poverty, disease, inadequate clean water, poor roads, unreliable and unavailable electricity, lack of sewage systems, high illiteracy and low educational attainment, no government social services or health services or insurance, non-existent retirement support for most people, and inconsistent local governance.  Whatever national-level planning and services that are provided are in the hands of the small Federal civil service workforce.

We can rest assured that there will be superb management of the organs of these employees, and no resources will be compromised in executing such an important function of government.

At a public hearing, a Health Ministry spokesperson said that the national problem of alleged “10 million missing/aborted girls” would be addressed, some day in the coming century, after far more important matters.

Don't Be An Imus

MOLLY:
What do I have to do, to be a “nappy headed ho?”

DOLLOP:
You have to be extremely good at basketball, and you have to get into a high-ranking university.  I am afraid that gives you less than a 1% chance, Molly.  Very few girls can do both of those things especially at a nationally competitive level.

The category was created by a man called Imus the Great.*  Millions of people spent breakfast time listening to his wisdom.  He was a Big Boss of Breakfast Talk.  He talked, and people listened.  He helped them think about things like national basketball championships.  You know that lots of people in America want to improve their minds; they listen to “thought leaders” to give them thoughts that are smarter than the ones they had before.  It is also part of the life-long-learning trend – so much is changing that you can feel dumb and out of it in one year.  If you feel that you did not “get it” in school, you try to get it from radio, in order to feel like a person who knows things and has something to say at parties.

Imus the Great was obsessed with basketball.  He was also obsessed with “good” schools that most people don’t get into.  This was because he himself felt left out.  He has been getting back at high school, and all those sissy “achievers,” all his life.  In fact, his humble origins are the powerful secret behind the “insult humor” he invented.  If you can’t join’m, knock’m down. This strategy, of course, made him rich.

In fact, another powerful value is that the Great I. vowed that he will not be a hypocrite.  This is so refreshing, particularly for a radio deejay, that respectable national networks just had to recruit him and put him on the air.  They thought, “All those listeners are eager for the real deal.  They want to be smart when they start meetings at work.  Imus-the-Great will give them wise sound bites. He will teach them interesting phrases that get you attention, especially in professional settings.”

It all went very well for him.  Until he said “nappy headed ho.”  It turned out that was NOT something a deep social critic says.  (The networks sponsoring shock radio were shocked, shocked!)  He was teaching people street talk!   Which they repeated at work!  Which got them fired!   Mr. I-ster was being frank and unpretentious, which are his trade-marks, and his “real, unhypocritical self” was a racist hate dog! 

There was a backlash.  People made comments that were quite harsh:  “You look like you’ve been pickled in a bad brine – and I do mean ALL of you.”  “It is time for your dog to give you another haircut.”  “When are you going to let Hop-Along have his hat back?” 

Even the President of America added his two cents:  “Heck of a job, Imus-the-G.” 

The networks hosting The Great’s show called in a focus group, a.k.a. a jury of his peers, to determine whether his comment was despicable, and if so, just how despicable.  They called in the cast of the show “Who Wants to Beat a 5th Grader?” to make the call.

The shock-jock expressed shock at the backlash.  “I am not a bad person,” he said.  “I don’t like all of this shock aimed at me.  Please stop it.  It hurts!”  He promised never to do it again, but people noticed that his fingers were crossed behind his back.  This is an old magic trick practiced by middle-schoolers.

Later, he said, “Don’t come on this radio program and insult me.  Don’t insult me. I am not going to sit here and let you insult me.”

The top national reporter Gwen Ifill was called a cleaning lady by Imus the Great.  When Imus-the-G was asked, “Did you say that??!!”  He took a page from government officials in recent testimony, and replied, “I forget.”

Imus/G was, actually, a window dresser at one time, himself.  Something we should not bring up.  Even if we feel the urge to be frank.

These comments made cowboys disown him and step away quickly, or, at least as fast as their high-heeled cowboy boots would let them.  “I know cowboys, and that man is no cowboy,” they said.  “Oh, and he should put his hair in a ponytail.”

Howard Sterner, who is filthy rich from filthy talk and the envy of middle-schoolers everywhere, said, “The man gives trash talk a bad name.  There is good trash and bad trash.  Good trash is the kind that is not noticed by the Federal Communications Commission, or, they agree with it.  Plus, it makes you a lot of money.  Bad trash is embarrassing to everyone.  As they say, only losers get caught.”  Middle-schoolers thought this observation was particularly deep, and therefore should be the kind of talk shared on national radio.

Then Imus-the-G tried another tack.  He said, “I am fun.  I am not dumb.  My evil twin made me do it.  I am really a good person and that person left the room to go to the bathroom.”  Middle-schoolers nodded sagely.  They had tried this message themselves, many times.

There was a suggestion that Imus-G join Mel Gibson in rehab for a few weeks, to get some sun and pretend to heal his tormented soul, but I-G declined, as he had “been there, done that.”  Like Mel, he hopes to quickly label his critics “evil hecklers” and win the blame game.  Some members of the press promise to help out with this.

MSNBC and CBS radio are re-thinking how “deep” their programs need to be.

Don’t call anybody “Imus” or even “Imus-like.”  It is a serious insult.

*Any resemblance to a person living in 2007 is purely coincidental.

Mr. Abe and the Comfort Women

MOLLY:

What is a comfort woman?  Can I be one?

DOLLOP:

During World War II, the Japanese sent many soldiers into Southeast Asia to take over those countries.  The soldiers were very young and far away from home.  They missed their mothers.  In Japan, their mothers took very very good care of them.  Suddenly the boys were in the jungle: bugs are biting, it is terrifically hot and steamy, there is never time for a bath.  You know, the Japanese really like to take a hot, hot bath every night which is a great comfort.  So, commanders decided that women in new strange Southeastern countries could help their soldiers by providing them with comfort.  They called on people in places they had invaded to round up some good women.  Every woman was given a little room and a very large supply of those hot moist washcloths that you get on the plane to wipe your face and hands – the next best thing to a full bath.  Then they had the soldiers line up to visit the “comfort women.”   

Later the women complained that they were exhausted from so many soldiers.  When they were finally done, in some cases after a few years, or the war was over, they returned to their families.  Their families did not want them back because they were cranky from years of doing that work.   Some of them were so cranky that they would not speak of this “comfort” time in their lives, and they could not have children.  Some live together and have cats and Koi fish.  You know how people make fun of that.

The Japanese later apologized to the women for making them do it.  Many had grown very old, had never stopped being cranky, and really didn’t think the apology made up for it.

Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe recently insisted that the Japanese military really did not have a role in the “recruitment” of the women.  He said that the “comfort system” was really set up by friendly natives in the countries they invaded as a kind welcoming gesture.  Indeed, really, the natives offered up their daughters and future wives.

Mr. Abe is caving on the issue, and will appease the uproar from the few women still left alive, from about 200,000, and who are old ladies bold enough to speak up about this controversial experience, which is really not proper at all if you are in the Orient.  Since he claims the women were volunteers and really just “friendly, welcoming natives,” Mr. Abe offered to make amends.  He will send 200,000 Japanese boy missionaries to volunteer to give comfort to total strangers in the countries the Japanese invaded.   They will bring 4 billion washcloths and the latest Japanese washcloth steaming contraptions, and each boy will handle MORE than 20 strangers in need of comfort, each day.  Even if they get tired, they will give massages and do embarrassing personal touching if their “guests” demand it.  Mr. Abe thinks that this will put to rest the rampant, life-long harbored feelings of victimization and grief for a lost normal life on the part of a few grumpy women.  It will demonstrate that the Japanese know “comfort” when they see it, and they can give it as much as take it.

In fact, to neutralize the myths that have built up about the “comfort system,” Mr. Abe is personally going to demonstrate how giving comfort to dozens of strangers for years is not all that bad.  He is going to open a booth at the Mall of America and welcome all comers, time allowing in his schedule.

Thai and Cambodian business agents have asked Mr. Abe to consider coming to their personal services districts to show them how it’s done.  They inquired whether the boys would be virgins.

You can’t be one because you had to be captured by the Japanese to be one.  They are not currently capturing women right now, and they don’t have a bunch of soldiers far away from home who really want that steaming washcloth.

However, other Asian countries have picked up on the idea of comfort girls and women.  Because they are in so much demand, there are people in the business of “recruiting” girls and transporting them to certain towns, such as places in Cambodia and Thailand.  These girls are made to sell comfort to many men, including many foreign tourists who hire giant buses to bring them to these districts off-the-beaten-path.  The women are set up in certain hotel rooms, with a good supply of steaming hot towels, or, they live in special houses with lots of little private rooms.  If the girls get tired of the work, they try to save up $70-$150 to pay the business owner to “buy out” their share of the business. 

You can’t be one of those because your parents would miss you too much.  But I am sure they will give you $100 to do some other kind of work, too.

Lorena, How Could You?

MOLLY:

I am going to my sushi class this afternoon.  You said I should know about a famous Master Cutter.

DOLLOP:

Lorena Bobbitt was a normal lady with no aspirations for the limelight.  One day fate served her an opportunity and her extreme talent saw the light.  Was it something her husband said?  Anyway, he was asleep and she took a knife from the kitchen --- it happened to be one of the better Santoku’s - and sliced off his Naughty Bit, completely.

Only in retrospect can we appreciate the level of difficulty and the challenging circumstances of this feat.  The man was asleep, she was having a fit, and at the same time, her steady hand wielded the Dojo 6 Santoku Chef’s Slicing Knife to the most fragile of organic protrusions in a rather clumsy reclining position.   Admirers debate whether there was any removal of clothing involved.  It was a superbly clean cut.

The Bit was put in her pocket as she was overwhelmed by the enormity of Fate bringing her this Extreme Opportunity, which eventually made her famous.  Somehow – we can only speculate – she charged out the door, got in her car, and drove into the night.  It was a dark and starry night.  At a certain stretch – near Dick Done Road and Willey Street -- she remembered the Bit in her pocket and pulled it out.  It must have seemed odd – a Piece of John her husband right there, disembodied.  Her fit was still in high gear, and she cast the Bit into the night.  The Angels of Mercy to Men must have been working late that night, because they softened the fall of the Bit into a patch of grass. 

Now the neighborhood of that patch of grass was home to a pack of cats, and they are most alert at night, having no people to beg from and distract them from a cat’s real life.  (Their “day job” is scavenging for little delectable creatures at night.)  They found the Bit.  You would think:  “Aha.  Look at this.  Fell right from Heaven, or Mars.  Let’s Party tonight!”  I don’t know if you are aware of how many hours a cat can spend batting a little creature around, chasing it, tossing it, mouthing it, letting it go, catching it, running it across the yard, batting it again, tossing it again.  But.  You might have heard about the pet obesity epidemic in this country.  These were fat cats, and they had just eaten.  Their kind owners had just cooked up some Philly cheese steak and Buffalo wings, and boy, was that good.  One of them looked at the Bit and said, “I am not touching it until somebody gets me my Bad Byron’s Cajun Butt Rub Fire Barbeque Sauce.”  Another one took a sniff and said, “It smells fishy and I don’t do fish.”  Then they keeled over, their blood sugar just flooding after the delay of digesting rich imperial crab, fried onion rings, albacore tuna surprise, and the insides of a double-cheese and sausage calzone. 

When an army of police,  volunteers from late-night sports bars, and the FRT (Fast Response Team) – came upon the scene, it was not hard to locate the Bit, in the early dawn.  Several cats were snoozing with their noses almost on it, taking a lick in their sleep just to remember where it was in case hard times and hunger fell upon them before morning.

The Bit was rescued, and rinsed.  Meanwhile, John was rescued and rinsed too.  Lorena’s operation was so precise that doctors were called in to admire the execution.  It was not hard to stitch back the Bit to a very acceptable angle, except for a tiny notch underneath where one of the cats had put a tooth to it by accident.  In fact, John was so proud of it that he showed it off in movies later, knowing that a lot of people wanted to see his once-decapitated thing.  (Nobody had ever paid it much attention before.)

In fact, the Borat Bureau of Circumcisions and Sustainable Organics invited him to visit so that they could document how a “worst case scenario” could be covered up.  He really enjoyed the attention and insisted that his face appear in any pictures, but they photoshopped those later.

A friend of mine once advised someone thinking about divorce:  get a really good knife.  And learn to make mean spaghetti.  It was a good thing Lorena knew her knives.   As any guy will tell you, anything is possible if you have the right tool.

Dollop's Retreat

MOLLY:

Dollop went on a retreat to consult with his 13th Century muse, a pagan nun in Vilnius, Lithuania. Of course, getting from Geiranger, Norway to Vilnius is complicated and that is why he chose out-of-body travel, otherwise known as “ticket-less.” No security lines. You can just imagine the absurd profiling they do on purple birds. Also, his muse really is a 13th Century person, and thus not “in-body” as it were. They plan to do a little dancing in the woods. If you see crushed mushrooms, you’ll know why. But never mind, mushrooms grow back the very next morning.

A snapshot drawn by Philip Vinton Clayton, suggestive of prior retreats. (Click on it for a better picture.)

He’ll be back in December, and girl, do I have a few more questions. Cutting naughty bits? Comfort women? A certain Ms. Bobbitt?

Killing Me Softly

MOLLY:

I hear that even modern Imams say that a man should beat his wife if she does not behave.  Does the mosque help men learn how to hit women properly?

DOLLOP:

It is true that a verse in the Koran (4:34) suggests that when a husband needs to punish his wife because she says she is going to run away, he should make her sleep alone and beat her.  This was written in the 7th Century and has been updated by modern interpreters.  Is nothing sacred? 

Just as there are modern versions of the Bible to help people understand what it says in common language, there are modern phrases used to make sense of this important mandate to Muslim men.  Clearly, there is scholarly consensus on the word “beat” as a translation.  But some have said it means “beat lightly” or “beat lightly if it is useful” or “use a wet noodle” or “roll up a newspaper but not the Sunday Edition.” 

I think Julia Child could have helped with the language:  “beat vigorously until peaks hold their shape” or “whip into a froth” or “beat thoroughly until you see a change in color.”

In the gift shop of your local Mosque, you might ask to see the selection of domestic tools that have been designed for this purpose.  The variety is quite modern, drawing on the displays of kitchen utensils in Bed, Bath and Beyond.  There is your “Sure Grip” stainless steel bat, and your Flexing Long Whisk which is also designed to scramble eggs.  For those training girls, there is the silk pink embroidered Flagellation Unicorn Horn.  Although many girls ask for the Glittered Princess Wand when it is their turn for beating. 

In a surprising blend of Middle East and West, you’ll see a 12 foot leather whip with a bunny poof on the end.  The Home Depot influence is evident in the retractable telescoping 12-foot rust-proof “Male Hitting Extender” that doubles as a measuring tape.  It comes with a free ladder.  (The target market is males who say they cannot get within 12 feet of their wives.)

The Islamic Marriage Preservation Board has embarked on consumer product testing and standards.  They issue the use of the label “Sanctioned for Beating of Women” so that men do not waste their money on ineffective tools.  For example, there was the scandal of the Paper Mache Penis Tool which tended to get moldy and disintegrate in humid climates and made the women laugh so hard they had to leave the room and go pee.

Unfortunately, one man took up his wife’s long-handled intimate Massage and Beauty Enhancer, not knowing what it was, and got an electric shock.  The company would not reimburse him for his suffering because, they said, “hitting is not one of the intended uses.”  Subsequently they put a label in their brochure which has the disclaimer:  “Designed for Pleasure, Not Pain.  See our other products for your pain-inflicting needs.”

There is a booming business in workshops for conscientious husbands who are concerned about proper conformity with religious rules, for example:  “Holy Hitting for Dummies,” and “Idiot’s Guide to Best Beating Practices,” and “In Case of Female Disobedience.”   One of them includes a free insert on “How to Gather Up Your Things From the Street and Find a Place to Live, At Least for the Night.”

This business has profited from lessons learned in other contexts.   Imams have tapped the pet obedience training industry and even invited the Dog Whisperer to give tips on controlling creatures in your house.  The Dog Whisperer tried to convince them that he was also a very effective Wife Whisperer but they got very confused about that because just talking with wives was considered a dubious practice.  They did not think that “whispering” to wives was properly addressed in the Koran.  Also, it was not clear who wore what during the “whispering” and whether women’s lips were involved.

On another front, America has recently made a great contribution to civilization by raising contemplation of the question: “what is torture, really?”  We would hope that the imams follow our example in applying the most rigorous standards of critical thinking and public debate to the parallel question: “what is beating, really?”  Some of the insights offered:

• Vice President Cheney says “A robust interrogation program must include torture…. Torture is a no-brainer.”
• What some people think is a “dunk in the water” is not torture.
• There is “acceptable torture” and “criminal torture” and we’re not telling you the difference.
• Yes, “torture” is “that which causes agony” and it is also “a big load of hooey.”
• Sure, you can say, if you get people screaming, having their bones crunching or getting mutilated, it is “violence to life and person” but we might just call it “an alternative method of questioning.”
• What is “brutal,” anyway?

So, Molly, reasonable people can disagree about beating just as they disagree on torture.  What is sorely missing in the American discourse is the object's perspective, because normally we are sooooo customer oriented that we are careful to find out if our services are effective.  I think it is just a matter of time before the Total Quality Management people get in there and sort out whether, for example, mutilation is simply a reasonable incentive to cooperate, and should not be accompanied by extreme screaming.

In Pakistan, maybe 97 percent of women have experienced abuse in the home, and in Syria, about 25 percent of married women.  In India, 70 percent of married women are victims of beating or coerced sex. Again, for perspective, led us consider that in America, nearly one-third of all women have suffered domestic violence some time in their lives, and this is without benefit of explicit encouragement from religious leaders. 

Read My Niqab

MOLLY:

The British are saying that a Muslim woman wearing a full veil cannot teach little children.  Why is that?

DOLLOP:

Little children in the West have grown up thinking that a big black covered face is Darth Vader.  Although Ms. Azmi said, “I am not an alien,” the children secretly suspected it.

The little children whom she was teaching were learning English as a second language, which means they were immigrants, learning how to get along in British tea shops, the playground, buses, and eventually job placement centers.  Strangely, they were holding their hands up in front of their faces and mumbling because they thought a disembodied voice was the way you speak English.  Plus, the deaf children kept trying to read the blinks of eyes and seemed to have gained a very limited vocabulary.  British people noticed that the children tended to stare at their faces, totally bewildered by the novel association of expressions and emotion with English words.

Ms. Azmi said she would reveal her face in front of children and other females, but the British were not willing to throw all the men off the school grounds.  Nor post Purity Guards throughout the school, holding back men who are fighting to get jobs as school teachers.

There are possible compromises.  She could carry around a computer with the animation of a real human face – an Avatar.  It would be androgynous of course, or, it could use the face of a man such as Arnold Schwarzenegger.  “Hasta la vista, baby.”  Or, she could use a paper face like a fan, but the lack of lip movement is a problem. There are many kinds of American Halloween masks, many of which leave the lips free for chunking candy, or teaching ESL.  Another idea: she could teach courses online, using the face of Madonna or the Queen.

Let’s remember that Orthodox Jewish women, who must cover their real hair, have learned to do that by wearing very attractive long blond wigs.  We are talking about a surrogate face here.

Ms. Azmi said she was extremely humiliated by the ruling and went home where she could show her face without shame.

It's Hard Out There for a Congressman

MOLLY:

What does it mean when a Congressman has a “Washington problem with the woman?”  What is “that unfortunate thing that he did?”

DOLLOP:

I will give you an example.  Representative Don Sherwood (R-PA) works very hard to represent Republican values such as banning abortion and cracking down on illegal immigrants.  He makes sacrifices, such as leaving his devoted wife and daughter back in Pennsylvania while he toils in Washington.  Part of that toil includes entertaining a very young Peruvian immigrant in his home.  He had to do that for FIVE YEARS.  And you know how he feels about immigrants.

For several reasons, specifically, cuts on her face, bruises all over her body, and injuries to her mouth, the very young Peruvian woman called 911, from the bathroom.  Representative Sherwood was simply trying to give her a massage, he said.  However, he did concede to being a little rough and settled, secretly, for $5.5 million on the lawsuit.

Is this good or bad?  He is hoping for a lot of forgiveness, beyond his wife and daughter, because he is running for re-election.  President Bush has forgiven him and traveled up to have an ice cream cone with him.

After all, “family values” refers to things that are mostly important * outside of Washington * -- things that OTHER PEOPLE should be doing.  Like not hitting women.  Or Making Your Wife Stand By Her Bad Boy.  Also, the Agenda does Not Anywhere say in writing, or in fine print, or in Karl Rove’s notes that  “respect for women” is even to be mentioned.

Whatever happens in Washington stays in Washington.  The President said so.  It is part of his “National Character Counts Week” celebration. 

The President plans to forgive ex-President Clinton any day now, for his much more minor “unfortunate thing.”

There are people trying to get Lemony Snicket to write this up as part of his Series of Unfortunate Events but he said real life is too scary.

Bitch or Bimbo

MOLLY:

Carly Fiorina says that the Silicon Valley chat rooms called her either a Bitch or a Bimbo.  Which should I try to be? 

DOLLOP:

I would suggest both, at the same time.   A multi-headed monster.  Go with the flow, and enjoy it.  Either one comes with very cool outfits.   Let’s see here:

Bitch
- conservative expensive clothes
- make more money
- save time not suffering fools
- get what you want
- get sent to Reykjavik for G-8 Summit
- get voted out of CEO job

Bimbo
- sexy expensive clothes (e.g. extra-lift bra)
- no pressure to think
- get a lot of love, when he’s ready for you
- great hair
- get taken to Hawaii for beach junket
- live on alimony
- get left home when new cutie appears or the wife complains

There is an alternative: 

Mom
- frumpy “active” clothes
- frugal allowance
- be nice to one Big Guy
- guilty or worried about kids all the time
- giving, giving, giving
- not quite up on the Big World Out There
- a little tired
- get forgotten in the kitchen

You have to understand that men may not know what to do with you if you do not fit one of these molds.   If you want to * Break * the Mold, try to disguise yourself as one of the archetypes above, at least Out in Public.  Learn Bitch-, Bimbo- or Mom-“speak.”   

The alternative is to find an egalitarian Scandinavian, shack up, and reinvent yourself in all the infinite variety of looks, values, outfits, and interests out there.  I do recommend red shoes, a Ph.D., and a cute baby.

The Feet of a Concubine

MOLLY:

Do you think I am too young to start binding my feet? I just got some Lotus Shoes and I am about to outgrow them.

DOLLOP:

Molly, there will be other shoes in your future that are designed to make your feet look very small. The shoes will probably be longer than 3 inches, but they will be so pointy that your toes will be deformed in no time. In fact, in the modern aesthetic, a 3-inch HEEL has replaced the desired length, so the “rule of 3” is still in effect. This will cause you to balance on the balls of your feet, as if on tippy-toes, and not only corrupt your feet but cause some pelvic and spinal curvature, an added bonus.

The 3-inch foot in tiny Lotus shoes was a status symbol for Chinese women until the 20th Century. The practice took hold in the Tang Dynasty (618-907) when one of the Emperor’s 999 concubines said: “Hey, big guy, my feet are smaller than * hers. *” This play for attention did not work because the 998 others took up binding their feet, rapido prestissimo.

Women with 3-inch feet were high class because they could not do much, for example, work. They could not get up without help, stand up straight, or even support themselves. They had trouble squatting, which an ancient Chinese person needed to do several times a day. They had to be carried around. They looked down on those with * normal feet.* The only job they could do, of course, was to sit around and look pretty, in case the Emperor found his way to their bed, getting past 998 other competing beauties.

Mean people have pointed out that those with bound feet could also not * run away. * I should mention that all concubines were not extremely happy. Our very own Mormon men, who had a rule about not having more than 999 wives or concubines, also had to grant bunches of divorces. You can imagine what this does to our divorce statistics when a man has 55 wives and 10 want to divorce him. Of course, the Mormons avoided some divorces by having wives who are “sealed” to the man after death. These deceased “wives” can never divorce him or run away whether they have bound feet or not. Unless they do that in heaven, which might be possible if you are Mormon. Maybe they should have tried some kind of posthumous binding.

The number “9” is lucky for Chinese and Mormon men.

I don’t imagine the Tang concubines and others were seen skipping in the courtyard, hip-hop dancing, or jogging on the Great Wall. Maybe they had special secret prosthetic feet, like little skis, they could wear when they really wanted to move around, for example to make it easier to do some squatting.

They might have passed the time discussing who was a “real wife” and who was a “concubine.” The wife had higher status. On the other hand, a concubine could be a later precious acquisition of the Emperor. “Last in, first noticed,” hey?

Concubines are really like wives in that they “cohabit” with the extended family. It is sort of like the “live-in” and the “live-out” nanny. In America, there are a lot of people cohabiting but we do not call them concubines. Yet. I am sure there are people in America who would like to do more than bind the feet of a few “live-out” concubines.

The practice of binding feet was banned in China as late as 1911. Apparently, banning something so much fun and precious is hard. Like banning polygamy. A study of women in Beijing in 1997 found that 38 percent of the women in their 80’s and 18 percent in their 70’s had bound-foot deformities. You don’t see them on the street much, obviously, because who has time to carry granny around? As late as 1991, the Zhiqiang Shoe Factory stopped making Lotus Shoes, although they sold about 2000 pairs a year for a few years after that.

Remember the rule of “3:” starting at age 3, keep those toes tucked for the 3-inch Lotus Shoe. If you miss crunch time, go for pointy stilettos. Hope for the joys of the 999th concubine.