And that’s not even getting into his past.  Hold on, I got myself a bottle of wine this afternoon and I’m going to need to uncork that before I continue.

…oh cheap Riesling, you’re my pal!  ANYWAY.  So, Schwyzer, by his own admission, is a former drug addict who ;once tried to kill both his girlfriend and himself;, and early on in his academic career engaged in creepy and inappropriate sexual behavior with his own students (sleeping with four of them on a field trip, for example).  Granted, all of this shit happened quite a while ago, but Schwyzer continues to address these events in ways that are, to say the least, bothersome.  His tone when writing about his attempted murder/suicide comes across as wheedling self-pity, and although he claims to regret sleeping with all those students, his website still proudly notes that he is rated as the hottest professor in American on ratemyprofessors.com.  Um…

So, anyway, not a fan.  You know what else I’m not a fan of?  High traffic feminist blogs publishing fawning interviews; with pieces of shit like this, and then, when people get angry at giving a well-known creep a platform, freaking the hell out about how MEEEEAAAN everyone is being and gosh, can’t they see he’s CHANGED? 

Yeah, no, sorry.  Yes, people can change, even after committing heinous acts.  But when a dude who has an abusive past like that attempts to reinvent himself as some kind of feminist champ while still displaying such problematic attitudes towards his past behaviors, I.  Am.  Not.  Buying.  It.

This is why I prefer my heavy metal dude pals to dudes like Schwyzer: because I know that when I call them on gender shit (which, granted, isn’t all the time…picking my battles, etc.) and they say that they are considering my point (which, again, isn’t all the time, and sometimes we just end up disagreeing because such is life), I know that they are actually considering my point because we’re pals and they respect me, not because they’re desperately jockeying for ally points and trying to build up an image as someone who “shatters gender myths.”  “Never trust a Nice Guy(TM)” is a swell motto to live by, I think.

“Please consider this email a formal request for a retraction of your defamatory statements about Joe Biel, Microcosm Publishing, and the Dinner & Bikes Tour.

Also attached is an invoice. We had agreed to a $150 guarantee for our event in L…awrence. But because for such an event we would expect to make at bare minimum $300, and because the cancellation was not in good faith, I am attaching an invoice for the larger amount. Payment is due immediately.

Please feel free to contact me with any questions. I hope that we do not have to take this to the next level.

Elly”

So yeah, trying to extort hundreds of dollars is totally punk. I guess? Har har har VOMIT.

Okay. Okay. I can’t even…bourbon. Where is my bourbon.

OKAY!

Anyway. So. It is times like these I am grateful for my intelligent, politically aware friends I know in real life, and for the work they do and the discussions we have. I am really, really happy that most of these awful “social justice” blogs seem to be created by shut-ins who do nothing but yell at each other on the internet, about two main subjects:

1. Hijacking the language used by groups that are actually oppressed and applying it to their decidedly non-oppressed identity categories. My previous entry refers to the appropriation of queer politics by asexuals, and I won’t repeat myself here…but guess who also is fighting the Man who is keeping them down? PEOPLE WHO THINK THAT THEY ARE FUCKING HALF-ELVES WITH GODDAMN CYBORGS AND VAMPIRES LIVING IN THEIR HEADS I am not joking, not even a little bit. For the record, in case I did not make this crystal clear: Yes, I am making fun of you and your identity. And if you think having the cast of a B-list sci-fi movie inhabiting your brainspace is something that other people are bound to respect, if you think that it OPPRESSES you when people maybe don’t think that’s anything other than a delusion…um, sorry? I don’t care. I don’t know when “social justice” became the same thing as “not mocking my tender feelings,” but I am decidedly not on board with that particular line of bullshit. I don’t wish to minimize the effects of bullying, but I will say this: someone telling you off for appropriating the identity politics of an actual marginalized group (and yes, identity politics have their drawbacks of course, but that’s a lengthy diatribe in and of itself which I will spare you for now) is not the same as someone being gay-bashed. Jesus shit, internet, REALLY?

2. Head-scratching debates over language. I guess the current thing is “-phobia” and how that is ableist, apparently? This about sums up my feelings on that issue. I would also like to note that while exploring the etymology of words is important (there’s a reason I don’t say “hysterical”, for instance, unless I am making a sarcastic reference to Womb Furie or what have you), it can also be used as a derailing tactic. If someone calls you out on something, pick out a word they used with arguably shady etymology, and let’s spend the rest of the time discussing THAT! WHEE. Or, you know, not. I would also like to point out that some of us don’t spend 99.9% of our time on the internet, or we use most of our internet time watching ’80s metal videos and Drunk History episodes (Oney Judge FTW!) and thus are not up on the evolution of language debates in the feminist/social justice internetosphere, and acting like everyone is familiar with all this crap is a totally obnoxious assumption to make.

OK, moving on, what is your opinion on Venom’s “sexy” songs, internet? I say Cronos writes “sexy” lyrics like a basement-dwelling virgin. My friend Aaron says it’s more like he had sex once and caught a scorching case of herpes. We agree, however, that this is probably the most awesome Venom song. Thoughts?

Sometimes, though, I can’t help but notice some things.

1. So, how about people co-opting queer identities, huh? This gal, for example. I don’t know whether to laugh mean-spiritedly or just froth like a latte made of pure hate. While the original white privilege checklist is a useful tool to point out the (subtle or obvious) ways that racial discrimination plays a role in a person’s life, and people have certainly used that template to start good conversations around other axes of power (class, gender, what have you), it seems like some people are so fucking desperate to attach an oppressed identity to themselves that they just come up with lists of petty annoyances which they’ve reclassified as “oppression” (for instance, the god-awful “Adult Privilege Checklist” floating around which gets all indignant about children having to wait for food in restaurants and not having a say about how their houses are decorated). Yes, asexuals are marginalized to some extent, and there are all kinds of awful popular ideas about sexuality floating around these days. HOWEVER: you don’t have to be asexual to be marginalized by fucked-up cultural ideas around sexuality – just because someone has a sex drive doesn’t mean that they aren’t harmed by the ideas that (for example) dudes are automatically entitled to women’s sexual attentions; or that a certain set of identifiers (being lower class and/or being of a certain ethnicity, for instance) indicates a voracious sex drive; or that any kind of non-conventional sexual identity needs “correcting.” And sorry, but it’s NOT “oppression Olympics” to point out that while queer folks have been mocked, fired, persecuted, beaten, and killed for being queer, that kind of widespread, brutal oppression has not happened to asexuals. Yeah, invisibility sucks, and can make a person feel awful. It’s also not the same as, y’know, constantly fearing for your safety.

And seriously, how ignorant is it to talk about “sexual privilege” like sexuality is seen as this universally awesome thing? Last I heard, queer folks being open about their sexuality doesn’t go over too well, and a lot of the time queers are ENCOURAGED to be asexual so they don’t give in to their filthy urges. What about people who are maybe not conventionally sexy, whose desire is deemed joke-worthy and disgusting? Maybe don’t attempt to write a privilege checklist when you clearly have not been thinking about how privilege plays out in the vast world of human sexuality. (Also gross: the person who wrote this telling queer folks expressing anger about her identity appropriation to “shut the fuck up.” Seriously?)

2. And the Crunk Feminist Collective wins again, for this post on SlutWalks. While I am in favor of the stated aims of these walks, something about them left me a bit unsettled but I couldn’t think of anything intelligent to write about it, and the Crunk Feminist gals did. ALSO! Actual good discussion happening in the comments. GOOD DISCUSSION. IN COMMENTS. ON THE INTERNET. Awesome.

3. How much does Angel Witch look like Spinal Tap? Whatever, I love this song.

One thing, though. Using my short-girl powers, I had muscled my way to the front, and was going nuts and enjoying myself. I was shortly joined by a lady who stood next to me, screaming Lemmy’s name over and over and making clutching gestures, looking like she was literally trying to throw herself at him. She disappeared in short order – not sure if she was whisked away backstage or just kicked out for being drunk and fucking obnoxious. Now, I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday, and I know Lemmy’s reputation with the ladies. (Though anyone who dismisses him entirely as a misogynist ass is ignoring the way he treated female musicians [Girlschool, for instance] with respect when very few other people in the metal community did. I cheered when he said “People said Kelly [Johnson] played pretty good for a girl…fuck that, she was GOOD.”) But still, that shit just fucking bums me out. Really? That was your goal when you walked into this building? Why? I’m totally pro-boning, of course, but chucking yourself at some dude just because he’s in a legendary band is just sad.

I don’t know. Every time I see a famous or famous-ish metal band I see shit like this, and I hate it but I’m also not down with twerpy sexist remarks about groupies (the “lol, dumb trampy bitches” kind of shit), and I know it’s not really a good thing to be overly concerned about strangers’ sex lives. Still, though, I see women like Pamela Des Barres say stuff like “well, I had fun, and I wasn’t being exploited, and I would totally let my daughter to it,” and I’m really not sure I buy it at all. While I’m not clutching my pearls and insisting that lots of sex with famous band dudes will lead to pill-popping and shame and death, and I know that ladies who make a habit out of such things generally know what they’re getting into…why not aim a little higher than that? In a way, I think of it the same way I think of people who play Rock Band all day instead of actually learning to play guitar. Why be some withered old rocker fellow’s muse/fuck-jar when it’s much more fun to rock out yourself? Maybe that’s trite, but I drank so much shitty well whiskey last night I can’t really come up with profound insights right now.

Also, I’m surprised I can even talk right now, given the way I tore my throat screaming along to “Killed By Death.” Thank goodness for small favors, I suppose.

1. First spring thaw, here in Minneapolis. The end of winter in Minnesota basically feels like this:

Yeah, fuck you, old man winter. For the moment, I have slipped free of your skin-flaying frosty grasp. (And yes, I know there’s probably going to be at least a couple more snowstorms before spring really happens, but let me have my moment here.)

2. I got into U of Wisconsin’s MLIS/Archives program.

3. I have a ticket to go see Motorhead tonight.

Um, anyway. OK, so I fucking hate Twitter. I think it’s one of the worst things to ever happen to the Internet. I started an account when I was drunk, and now I just use to look at funny shit that Patton Oswalt, Stephen Colbert, and Mike Birbiglia say. BUT, if I can think of something to Tweet (ugh) at Boehner that isn’t just 140 characters of cursing, I’m going to join in Sady Doyle’s #DearJohn campaign (more on that at the link) and harass the fucking daylights out of him. And if you’ve got Twitter and you give a fuck about things like women being forced to bear their rapists’ children, you should too.

Oh, and I really enjoyed Boehner’s entry on the Buffalo Beast‘s 50 Most Loathsome Americans of 2010 list: “Cries so often he embarrasses Glenn Beck’s family. An incorrigibly lazy corporate puppet who owes his emotional instability to legendary Merlot consumption and his radioactive Naugahyde complexion to innumerable special interest golf junkets.” Hee!

But you know what? I do it nonetheless After all, I am only CRUSHING YOUR HEAD. Um. Anyway.

So, in between endless rounds of “Next Top Troll” posts (wow, now I can read all the obnoxious, ignorant stuff I usually skim over! Funzers!), Feministe has a post up about asexuality and social justice. I agree with the points the author is making – that there isn’t a single model of “healthy” sexuality, and that lacking a high sex drive (or lacking a sex drive entirely) doesn’t necessarily mean that a person is ill or broken. Absolutely! Sex-positivity doesn’t mean lecturing people about how repressed they are if they don’t want to constantly ride the bone rollercoaster. While this point has been made quite a few times before, it’s something that always bears restating.

That said, however, I am really bothered by some of the rhetoric used by asexual writers on the intertubez and elsewhere, and the framing of asexuals as an oppressed group (usually lumping them in with queers). In this article, for example, asexuality activist David Jay talks about asexuals and their relationships with queer organizations at colleges. Jay evidently sees asexuality as being on the queerness spectrum, but is frustrated with the focus on sexuality with these campus groups. That makes them “unsafe spaces” for asexuals, y’see.

Hmm…what are the words…you know, I think I actually have a .gif for this. Hold on.

OK, that was really mean. However, I don’t really give a fuck because it is really, really obnoxious to have someone tell people who are marginalized because of their desires that they should knock it off with the sexy sex talk because it’s making people feel somewhat uncomfortable. And hey, while we’re on the topic, let’s talk systemic oppression. I have heard some asexual folks say that they are oppressed because they are unwillingly sexualized. Yes, but do you think y’all are the only ones? I’m a sexual lady and I’ve been sexualized against my will, a lot. Just because I want sexual attention sometimes doesn’t mean I welcome it all the time. Fucking duh. And maybe people think you’re a weirdo for not wanting sex, and maybe they’ll try to armchair-psychologize you, but do asexuals have to contend with people confidently, comfortably saying that they’re all going to rot in hell forever and ever because of the particular orientation of their boning compass? Yeah, no. So, David Jay, fucking knock it off with the “the queers are oppressing me” bullshit. It’s incredibly offensive.

Do I think asexuals aren’t queer? Evidently some asexuals still have romantic feelings, and if those romantic feelings are in queermo configurations, then yeah, I would say such folks are obviously queer and have to deal with attendant oppression. But that oppression stems from homophobia, and I am going to go out on a limb and say that homophobic assholes don’t really care too much about the particulars of a queer person’s sex life and whether they are actively boning or not.

Despite what annoying 22-year-old college students say (and yes, I was one once, that’s how I know), “queer” is not a catch-all identity for anyone with a not totally “normal” sex life.

And yes, I am crankier than usual because this cuts close to the bone (HA!) for me. I fly both airlines, as I like to say, when it comes to sexuality, but I usually have dated/boned dudes. Part of this is me failing miserably at finding ladies with my interests (where are the hot femme metalhead ladies? Send ‘em my way, tout de suite!), but part of it was repressing my lady attraction for a long time due to some really vicious homophobic bullying when I was younger (lesson: if you’re 13 and queer and you live in a small town in Maine, maybe keep that information to yourself). So, don’t talk to me about how the stereotype of the spinster aunt hurts you deeply when I heard, as an adolescent, that I’d be better off dead.

OK, now to follow up all that crankiness with fun times from a queer icon of mine:

ANYWAY: This Wikileaks/Julian Assange bullshit is making me really glad I don’t associate with leftists/anarchists/etc. very much these days. Well, actually, that’s a lie – I do, but it’s just not for purely political reasons anymore. It used to disappoint me when people who were ostensibly interested in an egalitarian society turned on women who came forth with sexual assault accusations when the accused was one of their own, so to speak. This hasn’t just happened with Assange, of course – I can think of a few dudes in punk bands, a few dudes in the zine world, and so forth, who had legions of supporters rushing to their defense even if those supporters had never met them and had no idea what the hell they were like as a person. And even if they did, hell, that doesn’t mean that someone who seems awesome can be capable of terrible things. I say it used to disappoint me, because now it just angers me. I’ve long since learned that lefty types are just as prone to asshole-ism as anyone else, and their political credentials don’t mean they can’t be fucking scumbags. The way Assange’s accusers have been talked about has been fucking shameful. And I am aiming a special hate-stare in your direction, Naomi “it’s not rape, you’re just mad he didn’t call you back” Wolf.

I’ve been trying to compose something about mental health and how to support someone without enabling them, inspired by some of Ciara‘s writing on the subject (both in her blog and her zines) and my own attempts to to figure out a good self-care routine, since Mpls winter is turning up the seasonal crankies for me something awful. (For instance: hearing cheesy country music at work today almost triggered a bout of girlish weeping. Well, OK, it kind of does that normally, but not so much). Mainly what’s on my mind is this: I think the “friends are the best medicine” shit is terrible and the kind of thing that can very easily destroy both your friendships and your mental health. This isn’t to say that friends should do nothing. Obviously! Duh! As someone with mental health issues who has friends with mental health issues, I try to be kind and supportive to my pals when they’re going through a tough time. Want a letter? You got one! Some delicious snacks? Why, certainly! I draw the line, however, at attempting to play therapist. If you start coming to me and expecting me to be the person who solves your issues and makes you better, that’s where I start getting uncomfortable. I don’t mind talking to my friends about their mental health business but I need to know that they are taking other steps as well, whether that involves professional therapy/meds or just improving their self-care routine. (Knee-jerk opposition to the clinical approach is another thing I can’t fucking stand, but that’s a whole ‘nother kettle of fish.) I understand that I may be easier to talk to than someone who has never had depression, but at the end of the day, just being some schmuck who sometimes tussles with a (comparatively mild) mood disorder doesn’t make me an expert on saving someone else’s life. Basically, my sentiments are in line with this post of Ciara’s, and she goes into much more detail than I do.

Other news:

1. My queer metal dude pal has a blog! It is so awesome! I got to see him on my vacation and he and I and my steady date nerded out about bands and got abominably drunk and played air hockey and it was pretty much the best thing ever, even though I woke up with residual beer caked on the front of my brain.

2. I haven’t been able to get a good picture of it but I have this awesome, ridiculous belt buckle now with a scorpion encased in clear resin. I feel like I should pair it with my red knee-high boots and become a comic book supervillain.