Go With the Flow

Our German translator JLH takes the (somewhat faint) pulse of American cultural life, and sends this comprehensive report on the latest gender-related trends and other post-modern phenomena.

Go With the Flow


Okay, I see how things are going, and I am ready to sign on. Who said: “If society changes and you don’t change with it, prepare to be squashed”? Probably nobody, but it’s true anyway. The signs are increasingly clear. The progress is unabated and unmistakable, notwithstanding such glitches as the 12-year-old boy who recently decided — two years into preparation for transposition of his gender — that maybe he was, after all, comfortable enough in his own skin so that his teachers could go back to referring to him as a boy. We must be patient. As a famous person once said: “It takes a village to transpose a gender.”

The transition from a tyrannical, toxic masculinity represented by Thor, Zeus, the Dagda, a white, bearded Christian God and countless other hyper-masculine divine and semi-divine figures (remember Hulk Hogan?) was presaged some time ago by the quiet displacement of such testosteronal icons through the return to a mythic matriarchal past. Ceres, Gaia and other “mother earth” goddess figures and the scholarship surrounding them have been more noticeable in recent decades.

Thus, for instance, an enterprising professor of art at the University of California at Santa Cruz and her partner — a performance artist and sexologist — are advocating “ecosex.” That is, having sex with Mother Earth. Recently, they led an ecosex tour to Germany, where they believe the earth’s clitoris is located, and where they no doubt practiced that seductive technique they call “grassilingus.”

The ecosexologists did not mention any side effects — just the positive vibrations of person-earth intercourse, but one concerned caller to a popular radio show raised the possibility that “carbon has been getting a bad rap all these years” and perhaps the real cause of recent upsetting geological and climatological activity has been the fateful discovery and excitation of the earth’s clitoris. After all, Islam is so in dread of the power of that feminine appurtenance that it demands its removal at an early age. Of course, the earth has no doubt long since passed the age of consent. I have forgotten which one of the forty amendments gives us Freedom of Sex, but it is worth protecting. As Teen Vogue said:

“The ecosex sphere may still be evolving, but one thing is clear, with the Trump administration’s threat on environmental protections, women’s bodily autonomy, and queer and trans rights, it’s necessary to find new ways to come together to protect the planet and sexual freedom.”

(One of these ways is explored in the Cannes Film Festival entry, “Call Me By Your Name,” which includes sex with a peach. No, not a metaphor… a real peach.)

It is an editor of the very same Teen Vogue who recently wrote a mentoring article for her young readers on the practice and satisfaction of anal sex. Assuming that these young readers are all or overwhelmingly teenage girls, I am not sure what attraction this activity may hold for them. Still, there is obviously a value here, possibly akin to the teaching moment offered by former President Clinton who demonstrated to young people everywhere — with the support of teachers and other authority figures — that “oral sex is not really sex.” Just as the unnecessary derogation of this perfectly natural act had until then discouraged children from practicing it, and they were thus liberated to try it out during recess, so, too, it seems, they must be gently led into this other, now acceptable, sexual practice. Young readers of Teen Vogue are encouraged not to be put off by lingering evidence of this aperture’s primary use. After all, the writer says, “Everybody poops.” Words for the ages.

So I have slowly and painfully learned not to judge, but to add my efforts to the emergence of a new kind of ethic. I have already decided to champion “Anything Goes” as the theme song of a new age. As a former language teacher (old language teachers never die, they just continue to correct your grammar), I am also prepared to lend my expertise to solving a thorny problem that has arisen and as yet has no universally agreed upon solution, to wit, pronouns. How to identify people whose existence has hitherto been unacknowledged, or even unknown.

There have been a number of attempts to amend the present, simplistic system of “he and she” (we won’t talk about “it” right now), and none has gained traction. The reason is clear to an arithmetically supplemented grammatical mind. Simply observing the formulaic description of humanity assembled thus far — LGBTQ — reveals the problem. First, there is no room in this formula for so-called “straights” or for those individuals Dr. Kinsey described as taking part in “animal action.” (Yes, I know there seem to be very few of the latter among us, but speaking globally, we do not wish to be perceived as uninclusive or Islamophobic.). And now we must add ecosex, So this formula would seem, even now in the infancy of our movement, to be insufficiently representative. Perhaps it should be expanded for now to SLAGBETQ? A few vowels never hurt anyone. It may seem daunting, but grammar can overcome any obstacle. And things could become even more complex. Researchers into sex and gender tell us that they have discovered a fungus with over 28,000 sexes. We must not be envious — what else does a fungus have to do?

But I digress. How to manage the presently recognized formula which is already five letters long, and potentially infinitely expandable as new physio-sexual and psycho-sexual possibilities are revealed. I suggest a base syllable — viz., “eck” — to be amended as needed by a short prefix. New conditions of sexuality, could be recognized in alphabetical order of their historical appearance. We might also borrow a grammatical artifact from a recent political campaign, just to emphasize the importance of this new grammar — “!”. Thus, basic “eck” could, as required, become, “bleck!” “feck!” “geck!” “meck!” etc. Sentences would flow smoothly as they simultaneously tell a story and identify their protagonists by sexual description or orientation, for example, “Last night, bleck!, zeck! and me were minding our own business when reck! came along and ruined our evening.” Imagine how limiting it would have been to be restricted to “he” and “she.”

We may ultimately find that we need every possible grammatical variation of pronouns, because we are now also on the point of robotic sex. Experts are even now perfecting robot sexual partners. Not only will they be sexually satisfying — they will also be free of toxic masculinity (unless specially requested) or harsh feminism (ditto). We may look forward to the day when they assume the task of incubating the young. Should this capacity be extended to the male as well as the female models, we might eventually reach true parity among the sexes. We may also anticipate special entertainment models: “bad boy” models for women and “naughty girl” models for men. What lies beyond these two basic models is a veritable Jurassic Park of possibilities. As Al Gore has proven, all things are possible for science — even the unbelievable.

When I imagine an idyllic future, I picture everyone in the world cuddling their personal love robot, while exercising their intellect on a smartphone with the latest kill-a-cop game

Well, that is probably enough sex for now. There are other ways to occupy oneself and also contribute to the inevitable progress toward a truly inclusive society. Long ago, the younger generation amused itself with lighter things — sandlot baseball, skinny-dipping, drinking on the weekends, endless discussion of the innateness of it all… But now, the young have found new and more important things to do. And I feel like joining them.

I have given some thought to the disruptive forces among us. Men, and even some women, spreading their philosophy of toxic, hyper-masculine “freedom of speech.” They insist on going places they are not wanted and saying things no one wants to hear. They must be stopped. So I am going to join the struggle. I have bought myself a black sweater and a black balaclava (or is it baklava?) appropriate to joining the forces of an organization known as Antifa. Some people say An-ti-fa, like my Aunt Ethel used to pronounce “antiquing”; others emphasize the first and third syllable, An-ti-fa, like pronouncing “antidote.” In this latter pronunciation, the name seems incomplete. It seems to imply “against” something. At first, I puzzled over the missing ending — “Antifactual,” “Antifacial,” “Antifamily”? But finally, I made the connection. It’s fascists we’re against: Nazis, white supremacists, free speech fanatics, Masons, Knights of Columbus, Rotarians, Republicans. We’re Antifascists!!

Whoever the Antifa are, they offer an outlet for honest, well-meaning people like myself, who are tired of being lectured about things like constitutional law and Western civilization. What about feelings? What about micro-aggressions? What about the right to wear your pants low? What about the right to cry “Fire!’ if you want to? There has to be a way to show these know-it-alls that they can’t just say anything they want and laugh when we try to answer them. Now I know there is. I thought I might enjoy taking what they call “direct action.” Enough of tamely disagreeing and being ignored. Nothing gets their notice like a crack on the head with a baseball bat. As used to be said about mules — you have to hit them pretty hard just to get their attention.

So I decided to join one of the Antifa groups protesting someone else’s protest, and I discovered that this is a fun activity. A group of like-minded, mostly young, people get together for a little Trick-or-Treat-in-the-Street. Everybody has a good time, and afterwards, when it’s all over and the masks are off and the pepper spray is washed out of your eyes, you may even discover that one of your comrades is a good-looking member of some sex and finds you as interesting as you find geck! So first, it’s a politically significant activity, and then, everyone celebrates in their own way.

Right from the start, I noticed one of our group carrying a sign that said: “Speech is violence!” and, below that: “We will not be silent!” Wow! I thought to myself… these are my kind of people! So I really let go and enjoyed myself. It’s amazing, after days and weeks of listening to stuff you don’t agree with and don’t know how to answer, how therapeutic it is just to bash somebody. Or break a window, or trash a cop car. Talk about fun!!! I thought, “This is the best” and that was before I found out that there are some public-spirited NGOs that will pay for really energetic demonstrators, willing and able to turn out at any hour. They don’t seem to mind a little entertaining carnage and destruction either.

So this could be, like, a career choice! I never joined OccupyWallStreet. But I heard a lot about it. There was mass civil disobedience and the police standing around clueless, along with some sexual promiscuity, minor vandalism and a few rapes and muggings. And then somebody kicked them out of their righteous campgrounds. This here, now, is a gig that can go on and on. No permanent location — get your orders, board the bus and off you go to a new adventure. Who says there are some jobs Americans won’t do! I couldn’t wait to be paid to be out there partying with my legal and illegal homies.

And one of the best things is that I really believe in what we’re doing — standing up for those who are oppressed or rejected, standing against hate. There’ s nobody I hate more than those haters! That fake homo who says he’s a conservative, that Jew who thinks he can joke his way past any progressive audience, that slut who always said nasty stuff about the best president ever (and he should have stayed on, like the guy in Venezuela). Their lousy, impudent, bigoted s**t! And they’re all white!

I agree that White Privilege has to go. Who do they think they are — the founders of the country or something? Yeah, well, so I’m white too, and so were a lot of the Antifa, after we all took off our masks. But I believe in equality, even if we have to throw all the whites out…not the good guys like me, but those other insensitive b*****ds.

Ultimately, they could just give us decent white folks office jobs in the new regime, where we would be out of sight. Something useful, like constructing polls that produce the right answers, or developing new programs for Planned Parenthood, so they could spend comparatively more time aborting white pregnancies. I myself would be happy to help the IRS in rooting out Nazi tax-evaders. It’s a brave, new world! Join me and my new friends in creating a society where no one is too rich, or too smart, and we can all just get along.

Hat tip for the header graphic: Nash Montana.

11 thoughts on “Go With the Flow

  1. sex with a peach. No, not a metaphor… a real peach

    No doubt a real Georgia peach.

    A peach of a girl.

    Back when the point of higher education for gurrls was to earn their Mrs., many daddy’s girls in Southern sororities (several extinct species right there) invariably had among their group some blond dizz-bang named “Peaches”.

    • And for me, T.S. Eliot (Prufrock) and the Allman Brothers immediately came to mind. I guess I’m still grasping for those (receding) cultural resonances–the metaphorically carnal rather than the fuzzy and juicy real thing. Or, the sororal. 🙂

  2. The “Left” is dying.It has no future. It has no paradigms or limits, It is entropy personified……

  3. Real EcoSex is when you stick the masculine prongs of the object of your desire into the receptacle and get instant gratification and pure ecological joy out of seeing the juice flow.
    I refer of course to connecting my electric car to my sun-fed electrical circuits and the indicator showing the battery filling up.
    I someone can please get Tesla and GM and BYD etc….to sell their EV’s in Israel, my ecosextemic gratification shall be complete

  4. Great post! I think a lot of these people will get themselves killed- I remember when the nerds (who were quite arrogant from people rubber-stamping their mental output, since weak equaled smart) would get nerved-up enough to start going after someone.

    They’d get their [anterior region] kicked (sometimes by me) & sometimes learn better than than to instigate. At least it seemed that way… . Either way, they’ll go after people that don’t have it coming (because they hate people like that) & then there’ll be a situation where people that come off like one of them get popped before they can do anything.

    Bitching about micro-aggressions or safe spaces, never mind some [odiferous substance] about someone “gendering” their child, would likely get their head cracked open.

  5. This essay is a brilliant and brilliantly written satire!!!

    But, shouldn’t it be “Last night, bleck!, zeck! and I…”?

    As a fellow “arithmetically supplemented grammatical mind”, it occurred to me while reading that with the impending scientific confirmation (e.g. fungus) of the ‘Right to Autonomy and Recogniton” of infinite variations of human (and artificial) modes of being, that we should introduce Numbers (rather than mere initials, syllables and words) to ‘identify’ them and preserve their fluidity. Begin with real numbers for pronouns, move on to more complex notations for words, equations for sentences….

    …language is too limiting, too defining: totalizing. Mathematics alone captures the infinite possibilities of “advanced human society”, incorporating the robotic/artificial. No more art or communication; merely, science. Sounds like a Korzybskian Nightmare!

  6. When I was 14 I made a hole in an overripe cantaloupe and heated it in the microwave. Ah, young love.

  7. The film mentioned above is a lock for the Best Picture Oscar, mainly due to the peach abuse also mentioned above.

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