NFL, Nipples, & Nudity




W

elcome
to Hotel Satire where a lot of “shocking” things have
happened recently that seem to threaten civilization as we know
it. No, we’re not talking about the so-called shocking revelations
that our beloved, and manly, President Bush lied about the presence
of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq (we all knew there weren’t
any, since it didn’t really bother us until after September
11). Come on, folks, what’s wrong with you? If you’ll
complain about little things like lying us into a war, you’ll
complain about anything. We wanted to look tough and in charge and
we did. So shut up. Who cares why or how? What’s the difference? 


That
said; let’s get on with the important shocking events. Yes,
the Hotel Satire phones have been ringing off the hook with calls
from gals concerned about what they see as radical lesbian feminism
(radles- fems) run amok.  


 First,
many of you are very upset about the gay marriage thing. True, it
violates the beauty of traditional marriage as dictated by God  a
couple of thousand years ago. By the way, nowhere has this tradition
been more beautifully depicted than in TV’s current reality
shows where husband-seeking gals vie for millionaires (lying, as
it turns out) or average Joes or whatever. These shows reveal how
sacred (and marketable) the traditional one man, one woman marriage
is, especially after a romantic courtship before millions of viewers,
squeezed in between commercials for products married people need. 


But
to be shocked by the gay marriage thing is to miss the point about
marraige, i.e., that traditional marriage involves a chain of command
and a gender division of labor/behavior that is God-given, therefore
genetic. As long as the “man” is at the head and he is
in charge of HIS “wife” and boss of HIS kiddies, plus
he is on top at all times, then you’ve got yourself an approved
marriage, according to Jerry Falwell, who is in direct contact with
God, as you know. This chain of command also implies the man doing
important stuff, the gal being a domestic appendage. Anyone who
maintains this gender order, gay or straight, can marry without
threatening civilization as we know it. 


Moving
on to the flap over the Stupor Bowl half-time show where we saw
Janet Jackson’s naked breast for a few seconds. By the way,
since we see gals’ breasts hanging out everywhere on TV/ movie
screens, it wasn’t the breast exposure that shocked, it was
the nipple sighting. 


Sure,
it was upsetting to see the nipple and that detracted from the lovely
halftime show of half naked gals singing, dancing, cheerleading,
and dry humping everything in sight—microphones, themselves,
each other, the football. But let’s not get carried away with
talk of network censorship and fears of femgals and their nipples
taking over the planet. Why? Because the gender order couldn’t
have been more beautifully depicted and maintained than on that
football field: That is, guys play football and beat each other
up; gals cheer them on and become perks for the winners—along
with a car, a trophy, cash, and the occasional trip to Disney World
for more cleavage viewing. 


Also,
what’s all this complaining about kids being exposed to the
nipple? Puhleaze. Kudos to news stations for showing us over and
over the proper gender order, exemplified by Justin Timberlake tearing
Janet’s top off, thereby showing kids that in life guys are
the ripper; gals are the rippee.  


Speaking
of nipples and shock over them: what do these outraged folks think
the

Sports Illustrated

swimsuit issue is all about? It’s
about a gazillion ways to show gals’ nipples—through wet
T-shirts, bathing suits, sand, rock formations in the Caribbean,
and whatever else they can titillate guys with, regardless of age.
Why are gals posing, nipples and crotches exposed, in sports magazines
that are presumably read by boys as well as men? What does this
have to do with sports? Why are there half naked models at boat
shows and every other sporting event you could care to mention,
including perched on car engines, breasts popping? Answer: to remind
us that men are people; and gals are hood ornaments. It’s in
the Bible somewhere, we’re sure. 


By
the way, can you imagine a professional women’s sports event
with all male cheerleaders, half naked, genitals flailing as they
shout encouragement, to be later awarded to the winners—giving
new meaning to the “game ball.” No, this would be disgusting
and a threat to civilization, especially if that was pretty much
all men were considered good for. 


Now
some of you were also shocked by the post-Stupor Bowl celebrations,
particularly the ones that “got out of hand” in Boston,
resulting in fires being set, cars overturned, and one fatality.
Well, not to worry. New England Patriot fans’ post-game rowdy
celebrations were a fine example of what we’ve been teaching
at Hotel Satire for years: Guys are about getting drunk and violent—that’s
one of the perks of being a guy, along with getting access to cars
and gals’ breasts. The police understand this, that’s
why there were only 36 of them in the streets that night. 


By
the way, the police also understand that when there’s a demonstration
for peace and justice (clearly radlesfem issues), they need tens
of thousands of cops in the streets armed with head-bashing batons,
guns, tear gas, mace, and other violent stuff to restore the gender
order of things. Football fans, however, are just rowdy guys doing
what guys do, requiring no interference from the police. 


Another
topic of shock had to do with gals’ attire at movie/music award
ceremonies, as well as on TV dramas. Many of you point out that
these gals show so much cleavage they might as well appear topless,
even completely nude. Say the complainers, it doesn’t seem
to matter what their profession—lawyer, doctor, coroner, secretary,
cop, judge—TV/movie gals wear high heels and skimpy outfits.
On some cop shows, gals are in tank tops while guys are wearing
long- sleeved shirts and jackets up to their chins. 


This
enlarging and showing of breasts is especially worrisome because
many see it as a feminist plot (as stated in many gals’ fashion
mags) to “be all that gals can be.” Yeah, right. It’s
fine by us if you femlesgals want to find fulfillment in your breasts,
weight, looks, and sexual availability. 


Fortunately,
the fashion industry understands the gender order of things and
how to sell gals on breast/crotch-exposing clothes that reinforce
sexist oppression for profit. We were surprised, however, to read
an article in the fashion section of the February 13

New York
Times

“Sex Doesn’t Sell: Miss Prim Is In.” Are
they kidding? Apparently not. Says Wayne Koestenbaum, author of

Cleavage: Essays on Sex, Stars and Aesthetics

: “Sadly,
getting nude isn’t really a threshold anymore…. We are looking
to go beyond nudity….” (What does that mean? Skeletons as
fashion statement? An MRI?) Actually, it means wearing clothes from
the 1950s, before the gals lib movement, thank goodness. 


But
what matters, vis-à-vis the fashion industry, is that (1) men
decide what gals wear; (2) whatever gals wear—be it sexy or
prim— their clothes must reflect their place in the gender
order, which means as decorative, slightly ravaged, sex objects,
who service men. If the outfits also restrict a gal’s movements,
even cripple her, so much the better. 


Also
cause for alarm was the recent Showtime movie

Iron Jawed Angels

about Alice Paul and her struggle for suffrage and to pass an
equal rights amendment. Callers to Hotel Satire were worried that
this movie showing gals taking control of their lives (i.e., trying
to be men) would be a serious threat. But  they needn’t
have panicked. The ad (pictured here) features a gal, wrapped in
a U.S. flag, back to the viewer, naked to the waist, with “votes
for women” imprinted across her spine. 


What’s
going on? Is she a ballot box? Is she seducing men into giving gals
the vote? Do only half-naked gals get to vote? We don’t know
and we don’t care. Suffice to say: as long as gals are pretty,
funny, sexually available to men, fond of shopping, and willing
to pose nude in a bathtub, as they are in this movie, then they
can agitate to their breasts content, but nobody will take them
seriously in the long run. Because they’re gals!

 


Finally,
many gals were shocked about the hot new Showtime series, “The
L Word” (L refers to lesbians, in case you didn’t know). The
show is mostly about lesbian (and a few straight) gals obsessing
about their looks, weight, and sexuality. As in most shows featuring
gals as protagonists, it’s really ultimately about men—their
fantasies, their view of gals, their gender order of things. By
the way, the lesbian gals are pictured below. Threat to civili-
zation or not?  You decide.







 





Lydia Sargent
is a writer, actor, and Z staff member.