Czelticgirl and I were discussing the inundation of babies in our workplace, and it sort of struck a chime in my head. Something I didn’t realize I had been contemplating suddenly enchanted my fingers and I ranted away IM-style. The following is a generalization, to be sure, but it is an observational one so please bear with me.

First, I do not understand the obsession with babies. I love children and I want to create and adopt some of my own, but I do not obsess over it. In most women, one can blame hormones. But some women go crazy over every baby they see. Evidence some self-control, you hens. Men have been harnessing their rampaging hormones since age 12. Men are sometimes just as ashamed of women’s fervent baby-cooing as women are of men’s ogling.

People don’t get up in arms when a woman has “baby fever,” but if a man accidentally loses control over his base instincts for a moment and glances down a co-worker’s shirt when she bends in front of him, it’s grounds for a harassment suit. Or if a woman is crabby during her menstrual period, hormones are an acceptable excuse for all kinds of behavior, but if a man loses discipline over his id and whips his head around to look at a woman on the street, he gets tarred with “pig” looks, if not actual confrontation.

Women have hormones that can act on their emotions. So do men. In different but equally understandable ways. Women are often disgusted by men when they catch them looking at their bodies, but why? It seem like a double standard; men must accept graciously that women are sometimes slaves to the biochemistry of their bodies, but men must continually be above that.

I get along with women better than men, but it disgusts me when they turn their nose up because I see a woman on screen or on the street and take even a brief cursory look at her body. I am a man* who ignores the sex of individuals when it comes to respect, but I cannot do so when it comes to bodily urges. I do think that men should control their eyes and minds to a point, but I also think that women should recognize that the man watching them exercise from across the gym (probably) doesn’t intend to do anything more than peruse, cogitate briefly, and move on. Luckily, the vast majority of my female friends, are strongly bisexual and simply drool agreement when my eyes turn without warning.

While I’m ranting, bisexual women and lesbians in my experience are far more lecherous than men. Somehow it is more acceptable when a woman objectifies another woman. Men have to hold their tongues, while the women openly express their admirations for the female form.

I do understand the argument that the adult entertainment industry portrays women as obedient playthings. And there are people who cannot see past these fantasies to realize that this is simply a mindless sexual thrill to appease men’s more unevolved appetites. But, it is the cultural emphasis on men being somehow beyond such “rutting,” that transforms it into a guilty pleasure, instead of simple entertainment. It makes men who want to be sensitive to their female partners nearly afraid of sex, because of its seemingly offensive stigma.

In short, let men see cheesecake! It is natural and healthy and any man worth his salt would rather be with you than with Laetitia Casta**. After all, what would they have to talk about?

* (who will fight for your honour)

** Even if the poor thing’s mouth gets all Pavlov’s dog at the mere mention of her name.

TL: NO! Limos are scary. Like clown limos. *shudder*
SB: Um…bwa? Ok then.
TL: bwa?
SB: Clown limos? bwa?
SB: It’s just the sound, not an acronym.
TL: gotcha.
TL: Brothers With Attitude
TL: Buddha Walking Airedales
SB: Which is one of the new road signs you’ll be seeing.
TL: I wonder what the silhouette would look like.

It would look like this.

Bonus, my boss came over while I was Photoshopping (see? bad grammar to use that as a verb) and did the quick mask for me! I guess that translates in business terms as “slacking approved!”

Linus is slowly working his way into the right hand nav over there. Maybe he’ll secure a spot after I meet him in person, which may be this summer.

Stay tuned.

Do you know Bill Hicks? You really should. You know that comedian that you idolize, whose genius gets you through the cold desert nights? Guess what? I’ll bet he/she thanks Bill Hicks on their album.

Get Rant in E-Minor. You will not be sorry. And say a prayer, read a poem, or yell at a pedestrian in memory of ol’ Bill, eh?

Today my regulars (over there on the right) are littered with incredibly entertaining blog entries, while I have nothing to say but this:

One of the many brilliant things to come out of Boy on a Stick and Slither.

Could you combine the following concepts into an email?

inexplicable seance phd scribners smash higgins dandy razzle supra inward malconduct wearisome grownup exert minerva acidic copperas cyclades asphyxiate fortify coolheaded monkey babe gershwin x thorstein electrify endgame unicorn indicant

If not, I don’t think you should scold Felicity K. Inconsistency as this was only the subject of her email to me. People think of these missives as spam, but the enlightened realize the true message of these mailing list prophets. Open your minds to the possibilities of random genius.

Incidentally, I don’t know if it’s coincidence that the word “monkey” appears so often in these teachings. And, if nothing else, it’s a free and easy way to generate band names.

I’ve noticed that the majority of the entires I’ve written recently have related in some way or another to comics. Strangely, though, I own less than twenty of the things.

I like many of the characters and the stories that these modern dramatists create, but I shun the collecting aspect of the hobby. I can remember almost all of the operatic sagas of my favorite characters even just hearing them from friends. And, not to cast aspersions on those talented illustrators and writers, my imagination tends to fill in the gaps of my need for heroism.

Which comics could I not live without? I’m glad you asked. These links were just hanging out with nothing to do and I told them they could be all hover pseudoelemented under this paragraph.

The Maxx, issues 1-4.
The Tick, issues 1-12.
The Sandman: Game of You.

After all, one can only resist so long. I officially became a MMORPG’er last night, having received my beta client for City of Heroes. Already I love it.

You get to survey the area from rooftops, leap down on criminals and save the innocent, all while the mega-powered fly overhead and deal with cosmic threats. The world is immersive and smoothly executed, so much so that you find yourself speaking “in character” a lot of the time.

“hey” becomes “greetings”, “dude, on the right” becomes “hostiles at 3 o’clock”, etc. At least for me. The wide variety of characters is almost astounding but then you see Silver Paladin, Nurse Notorious or Mighty Kid murmur “I o\/\/nz j00!” and you remember where you are. Still, fun.

Most-Honoured Girlfriend, luckily, is also interested in it. She is nervous that I’ll be so engrossed that she will only be able to communicate with me through her superheroine avatar in the game. At some point, she will have to come to grips with my double life in a three-part series where I must choose between her and rescuing 300 hostages from the terrorist controlled cineplex. In part two, we make love. I’m looking forward to that.

This may surprise you, but I like comics. And I like movies made about comic superheroes. It’s a guilty pleasure of mine, and an endearing quirk, kind of like that brilliant professor you had in college that you were so sure was above everything, but then you found out he was into posing My Little Ponies in scenes from Merchant Ivory films, and you respected him that much more.

So, when I see all the movies being adapted from comics using the impressive technology available, my heart lets out a little happy (but entirely hardcore and heterosexual) squeal. My favorite superhero, Spider-Man got the treatment recently to thunderous applause from me. Sam Raimi, Danny Elfman, Tobey Maguire – oh heaven, thy name is Sony Pictures’ executive in charge of greenlighting that movie. And now Hellboy? What else is there to say but “Fucking sweet!”

But, it’s hit or miss, isn’t it? The Hulk failed even with Jennifer Connolly and Ang Lee. Daredevil managed to have every character more interesting than the lead. Hell, I might even be interested in the (hopefully) ultra-violent Punisher movie, if they wouldn’t play the most horribly whiny, angst-instead-of-anger, lame-ass, white boy, power ballad during the trailer.

Yes, the Punisher is entirely broken down by the tragedy of losing his family, but that trailer should be hitting us with Samuel L. Jackson meets Led Zeppelin force, the kind of energy Brnadon Lee and The Cure somehow milked from that sad-turns-mad scene from The Crow. Pure wrath, no remorse.

Did anyone on that project read the comic books? Dude simply lives to murder wrong-doers now. He doesn’t get all weepy about it, he just destroys asses, like the dildo that bears his name. The PUNISHER.

Ah well. I get a face full of Hellboy this weekend, and that’s enough for me.

Apparently, acronyms are immune to standards and, indeed, organization.

“ISO (International Organization for Standardization) is the world’s largest developer of standards.”

Tsk, tsk. Clearly, they are only interested in double standards, as any web geek cringes looking at their table-laden, FrontPage code. Do what ISO says, ye quality controllers, not what they do.

It’s a similar sort of logic that has Amazon giving people entirely incongruous impressions of who I am.