Time for the Witches, PJ & Dee

The subjugation of women started long ago, Gunter Grass postulating in The Flounder that it was the moment men figured out childbirth was not a secret of women but the result of fornication.

Whatever the moment, the persecution has continued unabated throughout history, well documented through the portrayal of women as The Fates, Furies and Witches, all tortuously guiding men to their downfall.

The portrayal of witches has evolved somewhat today, some still hideous and evil, others sexy and fun, but all remaining an essential threat to men.

The fear of women remains rampant throughout the world, especially so in the United States, because they really do have a greater power than men. It isn’t because of their vaunted role as mothers – preserve us from that pronouncement – nor their intuition or dreaded scorn. Rather it’s due to the fact that they aren’t as petty, childish and stupid.

Given that young women have been trained to sexualize themselves for approval and financial security, they now need role models to find their way.

Intelligent, talented and, yes, beautiful, Ms. Harvey mines the essential ooze with acuity and supreme confidence, enough to terrify any man. As does Dee in my novels My Bad Side and Em, hopefully soon to be in print.

Men just need to accept that they are babies and let these witches take over the world.

Ice Friday: Gunter Grass’ “The Flounder”

The Neolithic era is behind us. In the opinion of the prosecution, the Flounder’s guilt has been proved. But before the sentence can be pronounced, certain material remains to be examined, especially the following allegations of the Flounder: (1) there were three-breasted women in the Neolithic era; (2) only thanks to the third breast were women able to repulse the male claim to power; (3) only three-breasted woman can possibly restore the matriarchate.

How Nobel Is Mr. Zimmerman?

Bob Dylan, awarded the 2016 Nobel Prize for Literature, has decided to ignore the honor. Wow! I mean, right!? Everybody Must Get Stoned! How Nobel Is Mr. Zimmerman?Bob Dylan excuse me, I mean Mr. Robert Zimmerman, is like a god! Literally so. The man just shrugs off what everyone else on this planet accepts, all of those pathetic dogs: Alice Munro, Jose Saramago, Gunter Grass, Pablo Neruda, Samuel Beckett. How Nobel Is Mr. Zimmerman?Come on, Robert Zimmerman is so much more gifted, right? Waiting for Godot? As if. Blindness? Huh? The Flounder? Come on! What are they going on about? All you have to do is listen to Robert:

She speaks with a stutter and she walks with a hop
I don’t know why I love her but I just can’t stop.

The great thing about all of this is that Robert is sticking it to those elitist royals in Sweden. Sticking it to them! He’s speaking out on behalf of his downtrodden American brethren – so many ignored over the years – leaving us in glorious silence to consider his lyrical awesomeness:

I know all about poison, I know all about fiery darts,
I don’t care how rough the road is, show me where it starts

Or maybe it’s actually bigger than that. Maybe Robert is gone. Hasn’t everyone else died this year? Maybe they’re covering that up until Robert can figure out how to reincarnate. I mean, if anyone can pull off the Lazarus gig, it’s Robert fuckin’ Dylan Zimmerman.