We live in a world that has become bipolar; a wild roller coaster ride, soaring to more beautifully progressive heights one day, only to plunge back into the fetid mire of conservatism the next. Most of the time I can’t decide if I love the world I live in, or if I hate it. I suppose most people would tell you the same thing, though probably not for the same reasons. It's often hard to get ones bearings amidst the ever more frequent collisions of diametrically opposed belief systems today, where the abyss that separates liberal and conservative ideology is deep and wide, and shows no signs of being bridged any time in the near future. There is always that nagging feeling that something has gone greatly amiss, that the rich promise of cultural advance spawned in the 1960's has taken the form of some strange Flying Dutchman, a ghost ship on the stormy seas of sociological warfare, anxiously in search of a new shore upon which to land and re-colonize. The politics of fear and intolerance keep the people frightened, and frightened people are not only unhappy people, they’re also dangerous. The continuing presence of this paranoid manifestation of social power causes progressives a kind of ambivalence with regard to the world they live in that is itself somewhat schizoid. We find ourselves split down the middle, unsure whether hope for progress is still rational, or if it’s merely the refuge of fools.
I’ll definitely have to admit to having a great love for the texture of modern culture. Sleek, bright, hi-tech, computer-generated, a self-constructed paradise of potentiality in which the human animal may play to its heart’s content. Sort of. It also generates overload at a rate that would likely boggle the minds of even the Aldous Huxleys and the George Orwells who peered so accurately into our time from their distant vantage points back in the day; the day when computers were something known only to secret government mad scientists and a developing generation of comic book kids, most of whom grew up to become computer geniuses in their own rights. But despite the overcrowding, the sitting in traffic, the frustration of never speaking with real humans on the phone any more, and the accumulated stress that must certainly be gnawing away at my very sanity, I find myself profoundly grateful to be living at this moment in history. It does indeed seem in many respects to be the realization of those futuristic worlds from the childhood comics actually come to life. I did always think, though, that the cars of today would look a lot more like spacecraft than they do, and the fact that the styles have scarcely changed over the last 2 decades is definitely a disappointment. Still, I have to believe that the day is coming. Think ‘Jetsons.’ That’s what I’m really hoping for. 
So what does this erratic and polarized society of ours have to say about the BBW Lifestyle? About the BDSM Lifestyle? About Sexuality in general? Can we consider this a time of potential progress with regard to acceptance of preferences, or is the message of fear behind the conservative propaganda pushing us in the opposite direction? Quite often it seems very hard to tell who’s winning. So what does this erratic and polarized society of ours have to say about the BBW Lifestyle? About the BDSM Lifestyle? About Sexuality in general? Can we consider this a time of potential progress with regard to acceptance of preferences, or is the message of fear behind the conservative propaganda pushing us in the opposite direction? Quite often it seems very hard to tell who’s winning. But whether the governing body leans left or leans right, the fact remains that the conservative base will always be championing new doctrines of exclusion and ultimate fear, and to the extent that they succeed in implementing these, individual freedoms will always suffer the consequences, even—and perhaps especially—in the realm of sexuality. The conservative agenda of policing morality also has a serious side-effect in that such social imperatives serve to further sow the seeds of hate. The message that there is only one form of acceptable sexuality, and that this form itself is never to be mentioned openly, will always find its constituency among any group of paranoiacs. They are all too ready to become fueled by the right-wing rhetoric and adopt a stance of deeper intolerance in a desperate effort to achieve a feeling of safety through homogenization. As a result, those whose sexual preferences fall outside these artificial boundaries will continue to be targeted as serious threats to cultural 'normalcy,' and will be made to suffer injustices as a consequence.
If this narrow-mindedness were confined only to the most radical of fundamentalist extremists, it would not be such a cause for concern. The problem is that the message of intolerance also has its effects on the more centrist population who might be ready to accept at least a small step forward in their openness to other belief systems if they weren't continually inculcated with the notion that 'normal' people simply don't accept aberrations. Without a doubt, the proponents of a progressive and sane society must work much harder than they have in the past to get the message of tolerance out. The message of fear reaches into our lives on a constant basis, but the rejoinder of tolerance and open-ness is all too seldom heard. One of the most disturbing things about the message of fear is the effect it has on young mothers. Far too many of them are victimized by the politics of fear. They become so fearful over their children being exposed to anything unwholesome that they literally lose all rationality and become aligned with hard-core conservatism, terrified—of all things—that a world of progress, inclusiveness, and openness is a danger to their kids. They need to be reeducated in order to understand that the world becomes a better place when we’re open to it, not when we harbor suspicion, prejudice, and hate against any group that WE think may be of harm to our children. 
The same kind of normative prejudice is explicit in the media’s endorsement of sexual stereotypes. The media’s entire function is that of defining the ‘normal.’ Everything with which you identify signals your normality, your level of conformity. Everything to which you feel opposed signals your ‘outsider’ status; a status you could well take on completely if you don’t change your way of thinking. There is an implied threat there that you may be ‘slipping.’ It’s critical in this regard to keep sharpening your own awareness. We can’t afford to be made into puppets by the pronouncements heard over our big-screens. Those pronouncements are carefully created to keep you in fear of becoming a reject, and of course, nobody wants to be a reject. Nevertheless, it is necessary to risk it if you’re going to be true to self. Social rejection is a tough thing to deal with. It makes you feel small. It often makes you feel less than human in some ways. But we who understand that the myth of the sexual norm is an illusion, a DElusion, if you will, can discover the path to freedom. It definitely takes strength. Most of all it takes commitment; commitment to ourselves and to the task of widening the world’s all-too-often narrow view of things. The structures upon which the message of social conformity is built are solid institutions; Tradition, Religion, false notions of Teleology, and especially the collective mental state that clings steadfast to falsehood while sincerely believing it to be truth. These structures aren’t toppled easily. But those who persist in remaining true to their deepest sexual identities become increasingly capable of understanding them and in so doing learning how to diffuse their influence.
The key to growth with regard to our ‘alternative’ identities is to continue coming together. If we keep on connecting we can build a powerful unity out of our diversity. We can become reborn as a collective, a FreakNation, committed to personal freedoms and the guarding of our rights to express them. It’s so important that we begin to set the example for sanity. Humankind is running so far below its potential, and it’s all because the dead weight of fear and the rejection of open-ness continue to weigh us down like some gargantuan sociological anvil. It is indeed time to make it known that it’s the Freaks—Big Girls, Gays, Sadists, Masochists, everyone on the so called 'fringes' of straight society—that are going to bring the human race into a glorious new phase of evolution. It will be like a reverse Rapture in which only the fear-mongers get left behind! All we have to do is keep connecting with each other and keep being who we are.
And so, the state of Sex as we near the end of 2008 can be reported at best as moderately healthy. There’s still a lot of hate out there. Sexual hate. Hatred of gays, hatred of submissives, hatred of mixed couples, and of course, the hatred against which I’m engaged most directly, hatred of fat girls. Proponents of the BBW Lifestyle still have a lot of work to do. Beautiful big girls need more mainstream promotion, more high-profile media buzz, and more willingness to stand up and be admired. There may indeed be a lot of hate out there. But there’s a lot of love, too. And you don’t get to receive it until you put yourselves out there, squarely in its path. Cheers! 
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Sex Freaks For A Sane Society
Women's Wrestling: A Meeting With The Archetypes
I’ll go on record. I’m a huge fan of Lady Wrestling. That’s what we always called it. I grew up marveling at the likes of Betty Niccoli, Joyce Grable, Lelani Kai, Moolah, Toni Rose, Donna Christenello, and Sandy Partelow. It was a magical time because women’s matches were so much more popular relative to the men’s matches, in some areas of the country and in some leagues, they were on nearly equal footing with the guys. You would always find women’s matches as part and parcel of a given night’s card, and all-women’s cards were not uncommon. The Old-School gals were tough cookies, too. The matches lasted considerably longer than they do today, which was a welcome feature as the lads in the audience got to admire their favorite warrior princesses for as long as 45 minutes to an hour in most cases. There was also something really cool about the basic attire worn by the Old-School ladies. They all wore one-piece outfits that were basically modified swimsuits with regulation wrestling boots. Well, having always been an unashamed leg man, [or leg BOY, as it were] I took particular delight in the excitement of being treated to such lengthy perusals of beautiful women and their bare legs. And that’s probably my biggest gripe about the New School of Wrestling Divas; all too often the most beautiful Amazon enters the ring wearing long tights, or even worse, full length designer gym wear in which EVERYTHING is left up to the imagination. It’s just wrong, and I guarantee you that if you polled every guy in the nation regarding his opinion on this point, you’d get a unanimous response in favor of [hello] BARE LEGS. It’s a no-brainer. I want to return to some other noteworthy contrasts between the Old School and the New School, but first let’s tackle the larger question of what this whole Women's Wrestling phenomenon is about. Why DO we love Women's Wrestling so much, and what does the fact that we do have to say about us?
Today's Look: Battle of the Super-Models.
Upon first inspection these questions admit of one easy answer. In a word, catfights. Don’t let any human male tell you differently, because he’ll simply be lying. Don’t let any human male tell you differently, because he’ll simply be lying. Men--yes, all men--have a completely unnatural predilection towards the enjoyment of catfights. They’re exotic, they’re exciting, and they’re just plain sexy. Added to all that is the fact that there’s something hard-wired into the human psyche, male OR female, that thrives on violence; be it car crashes, flaming buildings, air show disasters, or two people trying to disfigure each other. Sex & Violence. That’s what it’s all about, and Women's Wrestling serves up both in spades. Sex and Violence are at the heart of the human Unconscious, that place where we harbor our taboos, our deepest desires, our secret loves and fears, and our darkest impulses. Women's Wrestling taps into that realm in a most innocuous and therefore quite effective way, through the vehicle of a publicly acceptable forum in which women may display their propensities for both halves of the paradigm. In manifesting this ‘faux’ version of Sex and Violence, these extraordinary goddesses accomplish the release of their physical aggressions in the form of a cathartic act. But they do much more. They also establish a powerful line of contact in the psychic realm, which serves to transfer their own sexually violent energies directly outward and into the bloodstreams of scores of young male fans, infusing them with erotic visions that will spark their libidinal awareness now, and a developing instinct toward the faithful serving of the goddess later on.
And so Lady Wrestlers set the tone for something larger than mere entertainment. They engender a real love of female superiority, as well as a fixed point at which we may encounter the mythological archetype and even interact with her after a fashion. In a vital and important way they provide a vicarious fulfillment to the inherent obsession with sexually-charged violence that lies deep within the core of the human experience. In so doing, they open the channels for our journeys into the unconscious and the enlightening explorations that only such journeys can provide in terms of our psycho-emotional development.
OK, as promised, let’s get back to the contrast between the Old School and the New School in Ladies’ Wrestling. They may actually be enumerated most effectively by simply outlining a ‘best of both worlds’ scenario that harvests the most enduring features from each model. Firstly, it must be said that Lady Wrestling is still far from reaching its potential in terms of visibility and mass audience. The whole point of Vince McMahon’s ‘Sports Entertainment’ concept has been that of popularizing Wrestling beyond the scope of what anyone thought possible 40 years ago. He’s done exactly that...for the men. But he has thus far missed the boat where the ladies are concerned. So many of the fundamentals are in place, but Lady Wrestling is still missing the publicity and serious promotion necessary to put it over the top. Not that they don't try to give the girls their time; they do. They just don't give them the right kind of time, nor quite enough of it. The problem lies precisely in the abandoning of those few salient features that were characteristic of the Old School. To wit, then; the Tysonian formula for an undreamed-of level of popularity in Women's Wrestling.
BRING BACK:
More wrestling, in addition to the sensationalism. Take a cue from what was noted in our opening paragraph; lengthier matches with more traditional wrestling holds and moves. The modern notion is that such an approach makes for boring matches because of the extended periods of being trapped in various holds such as arm locks, toe holds, etc. Boring? What do they think the lads are looking at, anyway? The Old School approach just gives fans a longer and more stationary look at what they came to look at in the first place.
Maximum exposure mandatory. Of course, I’m talking about legs. Under no circumstances should a Lady Wrestler ever enter the ring in an outfit that does not fully display her bare legs. Period.
Get back to matches with time limits and a best of 3 falls format. Again, the ladies need more time out there in order to maximize their popularity.
At least 2 women’s matches per card, with occasional all-women’s cards on a test run basis.
Bigger Girls. Not every Diva needs to be a fitness model. Use some good old Midwestern raw-boned, corn fed hotties that bring power and variety of vibe to the table.
KEEP:
Great story lines, aerial show and acrobatics, major flash in terms of colors and characters, and definitely keep the body builders and fitness girls coming. They’re Hot, and they're larger than life, both very important elements in the construction of any hyper-successful cultural phenomenon.
Finally, what does our love of Women's Wrestling say about us as a culture? As individuals? Put simply, it reminds us that we're a comic book culture, and that we should be proud of that extraordinary fact. After all, it's the comics that embody all the significant aspects of human existence, and for the right price; usually around 3 bucks. Among those hallowed pages, and on any given night inside the square circle, the fundamentals of the big game always appear before us:
1. The importance of fantasy in the real lives of real people.
2. The triumph of justice and tolerance over injustice and bigotry.
3. The triumph of Good over Evil.
4. The triumph of open sexuality over mindless fear and repression.
5. An outlet for the psychic release of the violence that resides within all of us. Women's Wrestling provides catharsis for these innate violent impulses, even as it functions simultaneously as the vehicle for a heightened hyper-eroticism.
6. Creates an atmosphere of ritual; the worship of the divine goddess. Though it's all a fantasy, this element of the sacred is often realized on a much deeper level and will be accessed later on.
In conclusion, Women's Wrestling is good for you! (Especially if you're a guy)...(or a girl... or a guy) Women's Wrestling has the potential to heal society by putting us in touch with our primal psychic impulses, and creating access to the mythological archetypes. Far-fetched? No way. The comics could do the same thing if the world at large would get on board. But surely the combination of comics AND Women's Wrestling should suffice to help us poor humans get a grip and ascend to our next level of development. It's just common sense. So let's all pull together and keep those letters and emails pouring in to the offices of WWE. Mr. McMahon, our voices will be heard! Along with your genre-changing innovations, we implore you to bring Women's Wrestling back to the place of prominence it enjoyed in the Golden Era of the 50's, 60's and early 70's. If you do, you'll be able to say, in all candor, 'Twas the Divine Goddesses of Sports Entertainment that healed the world.' Not too shabby.
On Aesthetic Originality
Originality is the Holy Grail of artistic endeavor. More precious than gold, it speaks to us at our point of aesthetic want; that place where art is supposed to speak to us, in that sacred part of our being which is built for the express purpose of apprehending the aesthetic experience. And when it's good, it's very, very good. Because it is also the most intangible element of the creative act, it is the most elusive in terms of translation and basic understanding. Very few artists achieve it. Very few ever will achieve it. And yet, it is instantly recognizable when we stumble into its presence. There it is, something utterly unique and inimitable. Something that changes us in ways that add profoundly to our depth, but that we understand only as Enchantment. In a world in which homogeneity is prized above all things, we experience originality as something almost incomprehensible, and if we are lucky enough to remain focused, without distraction for that brief moment in its presence, the philosophical question arises; ‘From whence comes this?’ And we are unable to say.
Can we learn to be original? Great artists are virtually unanimous in their belief that it is something that cannot be taught, and likely for just that reason, it is to be found as often among unschooled artists as those who have gone the academic route. So what is it? Hmmm. We scratch our heads. We have to think.
The biggest problem in delving into the nature and process of originality is that it seems utterly resistant to formal definition. It’s like trying to give the definition of a chair. (Go ahead and try that one!) Every time we try to put our fingers on it, we find it has shifted, moved just out of reach like some funky quantum particle. Of course, ostensive definitions are what we use. THIS is a work of great originality. THAT one over there is not. Just like you do for the chair. Of course, it's easy enough to simply say 'I've never heard/read/seen/felt anything like THIS before, therefore, it must possess significant originality. Well, it ain’t necessarily so. Could be your experience is quite limited. You have no way of knowing whether or not Stevie Ray Vaughn has achieved originality among blues players if the only other one you've ever heard is B.B. King. And it is here that we have stumbled onto what is probably the best possible guideline; experience. Those who have spent their lives, for example, deeply absorbed in the world of music, having listened in depth to many different forms, many different musicians, many different approaches to melody, rhythm, and harmonization, etc. know that the sheer number of experiences they’ve had will help them to discover ‘original’ artistry and to distinguish it from the derivative, particularly the highly derivative. (Which, sadly, constitutes by far the lion’s share of all music.) Of course, we don't all get to be musicologists. But if our culture, particularly in America, put more emphasis on the value of the artistic experience in the process of human development, we would find not only vast numbers of people joyously celebrating their own precious discoveries of originality in the arts, we would also find that same culture reaching unimaginably higher levels of potential in all its fields of endeavor. The whole thing is connected.
It is also important to note that there is no direct connection between artistic ‘talent’ or ‘ability’ and originality. It’s not about being good at what you do. The vast majority of craftsmen and craftswomen who achieve high levels of technical proficiency in their chosen artistic fields will forever remain outsiders to the sacred realm of originality. This doesn’t mean that we can’t be deeply moved by their efforts. There are so many great artists doing meaningful work; virtuoso musicians, extraordinary draftsmen, wizards with words, amazing actors, the list goes on. They live that they may communicate great things to us, and they succeed. But even in the presence of mercurial virtuosity we are seldom apt to find originality. It’s a different animal. The distinction here is between ‘the accomplished’ and ‘the unique.’ ‘The unique’ is the higher entity. It signals a place to which only this one gifted individual can take us. Such realms are lofty indeed.
This, then, is the salient point with regard to having any kind of advanced conception of originality in the arts and sciences. Simply put, it's like this; if you immerse yourself in the world of human creativity, your experience of living life at this time on this planet will have been profoundly maximized. If you squander all your time on your sales ledgers, it will have been just as profoundly minimized. And as far as we know, we only get to do this once. So it's all about how high we think humankind ought to be capable of soaring, and whether or not we choose to become living examples. One thing is certain. If we all learn to step back from the trivial and uninspired hours that the world always forces upon us on some level, and learn to be in the moment with a great work of art, we will have learned how to be magicians. We can stop time. We can snatch a fleeting glimpse into the eternal unity of the universe in which we live. Indeed, we may become as gods from just such moments.
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