Things that don't really bother me (warning extreme WIT ahead)

Read the title or just go back to youtube and watch video game feeding frenzy.
That being said....
This blog is ultimately a reaction to Wisecrack and Nerdwriter.
I say this, in case, you are planning to blame me for what follows.

1. Sexism. Why? The answer is simple, I'm fucked but not literally- I mean no woman is waiting to have sex with me...but I digress.  Why are you fucked, Mike? You might ask unless, of course, you are swiping at your phone or trying to call my mother to inform her that her favorite son is cussing again.
   Well, I will tell you. I am a 47-year-old, white male who is tall, middle class and overweight. I think I am gorgeous but I suspect most women would disagree (at least, none of them have agreed with me yet). I am technically middle class but only by default, not actual salary.
   What the fuck does that have to do with anything, you might ask (assuming a lot here, but go with me and we can save the asides).
   Because I am a white male who is middle class and overweight I fit the profile/archetype/stereotype of the "average" misogynist that seems to proliferate the internet and world at large. So, by default, pretty much everything I say or plan to say gets force fed through the various filters that end up branding me as such. Case in point, years ago I wrote a romantic poem called The Passion and the Hunt. Most of the women who read it hated it and because I wrote- hated me or really disliked me verbally. As I recall, only one woman read it, looked at me for a time, then grinned and said something like "I see what you are doing there, very smart." In retrospect, I should have married her- despite that, too, being sexist.
   2 things to note about the poem.
   First, it was a romantic poem in the sense of rhyme scheme and format, I was emulating the literary style not trying to be romantic. Sadly, this was lost on most of my critics. Second, it was a poem about rape and how our society has "romanticized" it. It proved to be a disastrous thing to make a poem about. I was immediately villainized as a sexist pig and misogynist and no one would even discuss what I was trying to do (I wrote this in a poetry class at the college level).  I can write a blog about this, and I might one day, but I bring this up to make this point: as a white man (insert descriptors) I am not allowed to be sympathetic to sexism by the very defaults that feminists tend to classify and categorize their opponents by and adversely are fighting against.
   That's not to say all feminists or women just most (like 95%) of the women I have encountered along the way whenever I bring this up or inadvertently get involved with. What this means is because Of what I appear to be, I am disqualified for being beholden to the stereotype.
   I could be wrong but so far my experience has been that I am ignored, discredited, abused, disavowed, etc. if I even suggest that I have an opinion on it. Ironically, the misogynists are even worse assuming that because I am a man I must share their views on the same standards.
   So, my only recourse is to keep silent, give moderate approval limited to strict nodding and shaking of my head, click like and keep quiet as the experts on the matter have their say. I mean, if I were smart enough to keep my mouth shut, of course. Fortunately, for me, it no longer bothers me that I am labeled and branded by others as such because I am finally comfortable with being the odd man out. In a perfect world, everyone should have an equal opportunity to state where they stand on sexism without someone prejudging them or not actually listening to what they say or want to believe. So, that's the long answer. The short one is I am fucked and there's not much I can do about it. I have never republished the Passion poem because of this.
2. Racism. The short answer is: I'm White. It doesn't matter that I was born African because to be considered African- you have to be born Black (or some shade of Brown). There's a paradox for you. There are no White Africans. I do, however, claim that I have an African soul. It doesn't matter that in High School they called me the N-word or referred to me as a white N-word (no, I won't say it, I made that decision along with the K-word. Words have power and I decided about 3 years ago there would be several words I would no longer say, even to myself- again material for another blog). In this case, I was labeled as such by a predominately white school with 1 Black person (African-American, if you must) and when I used the word in a poem about coming to America and being called such a name, what happened but that I would be branded a Racist by the very people who called me the "White N-word" for daring to write such a thing in a poem (which as luck would have it be edited by the school literary magazine so the context of the poem was left out). I was sixteen at that point.  I can say that I am not a racist but I would be lying to myself and everyone else. Why? I was brought up in two very racist cultures in two moderately racist households (I say moderately because the racism there was subliminal- no one was overt about it, they just showed the markings of their own racially biased upbringings). In the end, it was inescapable. As long as Racism is classified by the company you keep, then most of us are screwed. How many white people have black friends? This is a loaded question since it can be applied to any "racial" group. How many (insert ethnic group) have (insert ethnic group) friends. The answer is a precious few have both, at least in this country. We are so ethnic and racially charged that to even have people associate with other people brings out a bias against such interactions. I am an active non-racist for the record. What do I mean by that? I actively fight against my ethnic/cultural/familial bias that would make me racist. It doesn't matter since I cannot take part in most conversations because I am not Black (despite being told I was by two very different people in my life - but that is another blog altogether). So that's the long answer. The short is, it seems that the world (at large) disqualifies me from not being racist because I look like a white man (yes, even as I write this I smile at how racist that was to write). 
3. Not being a Heterosexual. Yep, I am not straight. I am not gay either. I am just a weird guy, I guess. Someone out there probably has a term for it. When I was in my late teens, I had a few homosexual encounters, nothing really happened, I did suddenly feel the compulsion to come out of a closet or join a monastery but I did give into the fear that by having these experiences that somehow this would condemn me as a 'Fag' and I would be ostracized by everyone I knew- especially women (who I did really like the idea of being with). I even cried one night after a particularly unsatisfactory experience and told my mother I was afraid that I was gay. I had reason to be afraid, AIDS had been declared a "Gay Plague" and anyone who had it or even was suspected of it was one of them and deserved to die. Then my Uncle who I adored "died" from it (yes, I know now that AIDS didn't kill him directly). It changed everything. I didn't even know that he had been homosexual (it was one of those weird family secrets that are not really a secret but was). I was terrified in my complete ignorance of sexuality and it would take close to a decade before I would have a clue that no matter how hard I tried to be a heterosexual I would fail to meet the entrance requirements.
   For one thing, I was horrible at being heterosexual, I froze up around women, I could not get a date, women did not ask me out, I was clueless to body language and signals. I had no luck in the singles scene (and still, don't). I never got the understanding on how to do pick-up lines or those other heterosexual tropes. So dating was out.
   The other thing, the homosexuals weren't interested in me either. I should have been relieved; instead, I felt as rejected as when the women would figuratively toss their wine in my face.
   It would take a thorough immersion and knowledge of internet porn for me to understand my sexuality.
   Ironically, a bisexual woman who had gone straight (nope not naming names) would inform me that I was, in fact, bisexual because homosexuality did not repulse me. Her definition of being truly heterosexual was that you only wanted women and everything else was so repulsive that it would make you ill (she based this on the fact that her husband was one of these "true heterosexuals). People have weird ideas. She may have been right. No, I am not really bisexual, before you get your proverbial torches lit. Neither am I into men, sexually. It's way more complicated than that. To put it in context, I did not throw up or even get upset at the end of The Crying Game, and therein lies the clue to my understanding, that- at least, for me, I am just sexual. Trying to classify or categorize that for Porn Hub, I will leave to porn hub and my future lover - should I be so lucky.
4. I have a small penis. I say small by modern definition- if you have to ask- go google it. I would say without grabbing a ruler it's 4 inches. I suspect if you are still reading this, you are going WTF Mike, TMI! TMI! I sympathize, I do- all you 10-inch men out there should have to put up with losers like me, robbed by the gene pool and such. Also, there must be like a dozen of you sitting there nodding your heads, probably thinking well that pretty much explains the sex thing. The reason I say this kind of thing, is here in America, it's a topic of conversation on and off the web, men from my generation (at least) and onward all (and I mean many or a few) bring up their penis size on a fairly regular basis especially online or in D&D games or sporting events or any place where having a large penis seems to make all the difference in our society. Men lie about their penis size all the time. I don't know if I will say anything about women but if you believe the internet and magazines, having a big penis is key to relationships and sex and marriage and world "peice." I have a small (average size) penis and it doesn't bother me a lot- mostly because I will probably die a virgin anyway (another blog I suspect- also I will be completely smashed for that one). Now you can go back to yelling TMI and the women (should there be any can declare that they knew something was wrong with me.
5. Mac vs. PC. it has to be said. I used to really care about this. I am typing this on a MacBook Pro. I own a PC Gaming Rig. I write on both. I used to take the side of PC being better than Mac. Now I just laugh whenever it comes up because it is SUCH a non-issue. Which is better? Short answer, whichever one you like better. Which is faster? Whichever one you think is faster. Why? Because the long answer goes like this. People assume better is something measurable like specifications or benchmarks or boot time or stability. They argue, they make dumb but amusing ads, they make parodies of those ads, they call themselves the master race, they go on and on until they have insulted everyone and what for? Nothing but their own pleasure. If a PC makes you happy, get one or keep the one you have. Viceversely the same goes for the Mac and the droid. You Linux peeps can go to hell (kidding, you are already in hell- you just don't know it yet). I have had them all and my learned opinion is: if it makes you happy then ignore all the idiots and experts and do what makes you happy...assuming you can afford it and your wife will let you have it.
6. Patriotism. I am not a patriot. please deport me somewhere nice and cool. The truth is I can never be blindly patriotic. I tried once, it didn't work. I am forever, that guy who raises his hand in class and points out to the history professor that the acropolis is not next to the sea, it's 3.5 miles give or take if you walk in a straight line. The professor threw me out of class. I wanted to place my hand over my heart and swear allegiance to a flag and be considered a true American and I did, then someone pointed out that if I didn't believe in everything Bush had to say that I was a traitor and even to question the Bush presidency was treasonous. Then Clinton is in office and it's the role of the American Patriot to quest everything and even call the president of this flag a traitor to the crown- err I mean country. Nothing changes, hypocrisy runs rampant in the "greatest country in the world." So no, I am not a patriot because I won't take part in how it is defined. Patriotism is for those willing to defy reason and good judgement and shoot first and never question anyone.
   
7. Freedom of speech/expression. I had stronger views on this once. I no longer do. We need to have complete freedom of expression (assuming that it doesn't involve hurting or killing other people) [I mean you can say that you want to hurt or kill people if you must]. I would rather live my entire life stuck in a closet with Vanna White than have ideas banned.
   That is what Freedom of Expression is. It's ideas. Good ideas or bad, right or wrong, good or evil or neutral or otherwise.
   We need to have it all, banning one is as bad, if not worse than banning the other. I am for ideas. Without the ones I don't like I cannot see how to overcome them with the ones I do.  So, Mike, why doesn't Freedom of Expression really bother you? (If you are still here, I applaud you, I'd have gone to see if I could talk my husband into a good backrub if I were you)
   Short answer. As long as we have the freedom to express ourselves it doesn't bother me.
   Long answer. Take away of limit freedom of expression and I will be very bothered by it. I think Pink Floyd put it best. As long as my wall is up and I can be comfortably detached from the reality of oppression, I am fine with that. Well, I want it to be comfortably numb anyway.
   I'm sure some Pink Floyd expert will be coming after me with a brick in a minute. So let me just says, don't rock my idea boat- i.e. this is my place, this blog, for ideas. 

Disclaimer:

Remember I said WIT ensues. Before you lose your mind and call the Dean or my parents or my brother- actually please bug my brother- he is stuck in the closet with a stuffed shark- reread the blog.

and that is stuff that doesn't really bother me according to Mike.