(how I visualize myself as a woman)

I’ve given a lot of thought about masculinity and femininity in the last few days, since I first mentioned this idea for “Write Like the Opposite Sex” Day.  This week — my blog, my therapy, my marriage, and my sex life all converged at a point somewhere in my brain. 

I’ve come to a definite decision about something.  I am a man.  I’m a man despite being pegged as a “female writer” by the Gender Genie (thanks Schmutzie).  That’s right.  I’m a man and I’m proud.   Even when I watch “All My Children,” I watch it like a man.  Sophia and I watch it completely differently.  I pay attention to the ridiculous plot.  Sophia notices that “Kendall is anorexic.” 

I’m honored that so many women choose to read this blog, but I’m not really sure I would ever want to be one of you.  Sure, it would be nice to be allowed to speak at BlogHer, but who the hell needs it?! 

I like being a man.

Men, we’re the lucky ones!  Sure, the women can have babies and be all “nurturing,”  but WE have our penises, and they can’t take that away from us.  I guess they can try to take them away, either physically or emotionally, but when I say penises, I don’t just mean our large and strong c*cks.  I mean the penises in our hearts.  The ones that makes us MEN.  You know what I’m talking about.   The woman NEVER will.

That said, I would make one helluva woman.  Just like the Michael Dorsey character in Tootsie.  If you are a male reader, do you think you would be a good woman?

If I were a woman, I have no doubt that every male reading this right now would be killing himself to get to know me.  You would totally want me.  I would be such a sexy woman.  I would show cleavage, but not too much.  I would know exactly when you are looking at my ass.  I would surprise you with my off-the-cuff remarks.  I would be funnier than you are.  You would say to yourself, “I have never met such a f**king amazing woman in all my entire life.  She’s as cool as a MAN, but he’s a woman!”

Sure, I know I sound like the ideal woman to you.  But don’t waste your time thinking about it.   If I were a woman, I would not go out with any losers like you!   Bloggers - heh.  A waste of my feminine time.  A woman like me deserves better.  I expect better.  I mean,  I can hang out and bullshit, and be one of the guys, but I also want to be treated like a princess.

And don’t try to use any two-for-one dinner coupons at the Olive Garden with me, you cheap assholes.

The plan is still the same for Friday – Write as the Opposite Sex Day.

Note written an hour later after emailing with Jane:  OK - forget this post!  Write Like the Opposite Sex Day will go on like I said in the last post.  But I’ll keep this post up anyway just so you can see how neurotic I am, and how quick I am to change ideas when I hear criticism, although she was completely right on.   But who cares!   Gotta have balls, like a male writer, and stick to my guns!

Jane made an interesting comment on my last post.  I decided to quote it as a separate post. 

Not meaning to critique your idea, my dear Neil, but stereotypical behaviors and expressions are probably not that involved, outside of some comedy, in the true-to-life expressions of most modern male and female characters. . .they just perpetuate the stereotypes. 

Maybe for your next contest, you could consider blind entries — people writing  characters — and then guessing whether the author is male or female.  That would go above stereotyped expressions into who really might understand the opposite sex more.

(Please don’t hate me.  I adore you!  [she said that, not me])

Perhaps she has a point.  If a writer tries to ”write” like the opposite sex, won’t the results be characters who are stereotypes?  Sure, it may be funny, but it won’t help us understand the other sex any better, or create strong characters.  After all, not all women think about shoes all the time, like the gals on “Sex and the City.” 

I’m a man, right?  I don’t watch football.  I rarely drink beer.  I watch “All My Children?”  How do I fit in?  I worry that if we try too hard to write like the opposite sex, the results will suck.

If I am going to write like “a woman,” maybe I should avoid thinking of her – first and foremost — as a woman.  She is a human being.   A mother in North Carolina might have more in common with a male Eskimo than another mother down the block.  Maybe the mother and the Eskimo both have phobias about snakes, or both had a controlling father!   I can delve into a female’s character motivation and emotional state without even thinking about her gender.  Wouldn’t this be the best way to make a female character three-dimensional?

When I talk to you on IM, I don’t say to myself “this is a woman.”  OK, sometimes when I look at your photos on Flickr I do, but that’s for another reason.   And it usually sounds like “This IS a WOMAN!” and my mouth is hanging open.  You are a person first, a person with neurotic character flaws — before you are a woman.    Some of you like to cook and some of you play roller derby.  Some of you do both.  And what’s wrong with me watching “All My Children?!”  And most of these external things are just the surface of the real person.

Of course, there are some stereotypes that exist because they are true.  Men and women act differently.  Our brains are different.  And there are differing social constraints.  But real character is internal…. what goes on in the brain.   Honestly — I have this strange feeling that some of you nice mommybloggers who write about knitting and cooking, are way more kinky and perverse in your minds, than any of us guys talking about our “dicks” all the time.

So, what do you think?  Should I continue my contest the same way I outlined it earlier?  Or will we just get stereotyped nonsense without stretching our writing skills?  Or should I change it to Jane’s idea? — you send me a paragraph of something you wrote as yourself, and then something written “as” the opposite sex.  Anything you want.  I will post them without revealing the author’s name.  Others will then vote on each piece — was it written by a man or a woman.   It would be like in the old “To Tell the Truth” game show:  “Will the real man or woman please stand up?”  Later on, I will reveal who wrote each paragraph, with a link to your blog.  The one who fools the most people wins!

I’m all about destroying gender stereotypes!  Would Jane’s idea be a better way of doing this?  What do you think?

And yes, Tootsie DVD will still be given to the winner.

Over the weekend, I mentioned that I was struggling with trying to make one of my female characters believable.  No matter what situation I put her in, she seemed to always be taking off her blouse, rubbing against the male lead, and saying “Take me now, you hot-blooded schmuck.”

When I asked for male writers who can “write women,” you gave me a whole bunch of cool suggestions, from Wally Lamb to Stephen King.  Thanks.

On a somewhat related note, the director Sydney Pollack died at the age of 73.  He was a very classy Hollywood professional, director of such mainstream classics like “Out of Africa.”  He directed my mother’s favorite movie — “The Way We Were.”  Redford?  Streisand?  Is it surprising?  He also director one of my top five movies of all time — “Tootsie.”

In Tootsie, the Dustin Hoffman character dresses like a woman to get a soap opera job, and does such a good job that he/she becomes a star.  It is a very funny movie.

Maybe I need to be a little like Tootsie in order to write like a woman.  BECOME the WOMAN!

In celebration of Sydney Pollack’s work, Friday will be “Write Like the Opposite Sex Day” here on Citizen of the Month.  I will write my blog post as if I were a woman (even more so than I already do), just to have you judge my ability to see my own life as a woman.  On Friday, please also comment on my blog as if you are commenting as the OPPOSITE SEX.  That means, men should be giving me the “hugs” and the women should be making sarcastic, unemotional, unrelated comments.

I will also run a little contest here on Friday.  Write your own post like a member of the opposite sex!  

Can you do it?  Would you write about your day differently if you were a man?  Would you curse more? 

Can a guy find his inner woman?  Would he be all emotional if he was a woman with PMS, crying because he was stuck in traffic?  Can you see yourself as being a member of the opposite sex? 

I will be the judge. Whoever I deem to be most in touch with their masculine or feminine side, will win a prize.  Usually my prizes are zilch.  This time, it will be a brand new DVD of Tootsie!  Hey, so it isn’t a wii.  At least, I’m paying for the damn prize with my own money, you ungrateful…! 

Wait, wait…how would a woman handle this situation?   “I hate you!  But I love you too!  Waaaaaa!  I am having the worst period EVAH!  Oh, did I tell you about my new shoes?!”

When unconditional love fades, it doesn’t melt away like the Wicked Witch after she is splashed with a bucket of water.  It happens slower, in a more painful way.  Like the drip drip drip of Chinese water torture.

I was in the laundromat.  It was Saturday night.  It was quiet except for the sound of the the dryers.  There was one other customer.  He was about 60.  Joe introduced himself.  He said he played the mandolin, and gave me his card.  He lived in some trailer park. 

“You mind if I change the channel?” he asked. 

I shrugged.  In the right corner of the laundromat was a small TV that was playing the Dodger game.  The Dodgers were losing.  Joe turned the channel to one of those “America’s Funniest Home Video” rip-offs.  I hate these shows.  I don’t find kids falling into mud or dogs biting their own tails funny.  Ever.  And I consider myself to have a sense of humor.  Since when is pain, shown out of context, funny?

On the TV, a ram was butting his head into a children’s swing set. The bench swung in an arc and then hit the ram back in the head.  The ram showed no fear.  He pushed to the other side of the swing set, and then rammed his way from the opposite side.  He banged his head a second time.  He was relentless.  He attacked the swing set over and over again, each time with the same result.  I know rams do this naturally, but I was worrying about the animal’s health.  Was he damaging his brain?  Was he trying to forget about something?  About someone?  Was he in and out of love?

The onscreen audience was laughing and cheering.  Joe was cracking up.

“Are you watching this?  Man oh man, this is hilarious!”

I went to fold my laundry.  This stubborn ram doing stupid things to himself was not funny, even if he was deceiving himself into thinking he was being productive.  He was in pain.  Emotional pain.

MORNING

In the morning, I went to see an apartment that is being rented.  This is a big step for me.  I’ve been telling you that I’m moving out for… about six months now.   To make the whole situation more pathetic, Sophia (my separated wife, for newcomers) came with me to check out the place!  Before you make the comparison of mommy accompanying her child on her first day of school, I will do it FOR you. I was nervous about seeing this rental.  I found it on Craig’s List.

“Why is it so… inexpensive?” I asked myself.  “Is the economy this bad?” 

The reason…? Let’s just say that the neighborhood was so-so, and the apartment manager seemed to have a side job running a meth lab.  New theory:  It is OK to use a coupon at Olive Garden, but not in apartment hunting.   Even Sophia hated the place.

New vague plan:  Go to NY and visit my real MOMMY for a few weeks and finish this screenplay, then come back and find an apartment.   I know… procrastination.  Brenda, my therapist, is going to give me one of her “looks” this week.

AFTERNOON

As I’ve mentioned to some of you, I’ve started to work on this screenplay project with another writer.  It was a long process of pitching and coming up with ideas.  While nothing is certain,  there is some interest, and I’m hoping to make some real money this year, not just the fake dollars that you can use on Second Life.  Then again… Hollywood is a risky place until the money is paid.

It is not easy working with another writer.  It is like a marriage.  It takes some time.  The other writer and I split up the work load.  I’m writing some of the scenes involving the major female characters.  I opened my mouth and said that “I understand women,” when in reality, this is an obvious lie.  Belinda from Ninja Poodles told me to read Stephen King. 

“He writes excellent female characters!” she said. 

Wht do you think?  Do you think most male writers do a poor job in creating female characters?  I don’t know about you, but I found it completely believable that the Sharon Stone character wore no underwear during that police interrogation in “Basic Instinct.”

Speaking of sex-starved screenwriters, I tried to write a scene on Saturday afternoon while shopping at Target.  Target is my new pharmacist, mostly because they give you the pills in these hip red plastic containers.  I went to Target to pick up my cholesterol medicine (and some paper towels).  This time, I travelled without Sophia holding my hand.  After walking the aisles of products of artists and architects who sold out to the Target Man, and drooling over this cool red Michael Graves toaster, I decided to have a cup of coffee in “the cafe.” 

Our new Target is a rather fancy one.  The parking and the “courtyard” are on the first floor.  The “cafe” is on the second floor and looks out over the courtyard.  I use the term “cafe” loosely.  They sell hot dogs, popcorn, and Pizza Hut slices.  However, a tiny Starbucks franchise is attached to the side, and the atmosphere is light and friendly.  I ordered my “tall” coffee, sat down with my Target bag, and decided to write a scene in the trusty black-and-white-covered composition notebook that I always lug around in case inspiration hits.

Being a New Yorker, noise and chaos is usually calming.  I have no problem writing when there is activity going on.  I just couldn’t focus in Target.  Some bratty kids were playing with the ice machine and the open mustard package sitting on the plastic chair adjacent to me was bugging me.

I decided to take a breather.  I walked over to the railing and looked down into the courtyard.  Customers were flooding in and out, some wheeled shopping cars, others with children in tow.  The majority were women… mothers.  Not surprisingly, my second floor position gave me a pretty good view of the finest cleavage that Redondo Beach had to offer.  I could look right down the tops of women’s blouses.  Hello, mothers!  Some thin, some buxom, some size 2, some size 16, some in tight dresses, some in low cut blouses.  I completely forgot about my screenplay and just enjoyed the view.  This was better than looking down at the Grand Canyon.  So many women!  I glanced up and noticed that there was a video camera.  Big Brother was watching.  This changed everything. 

“Is anyone watching me?” I wondered.   ”I must look like a total pervert!”

I certainly felt like a total pervert, especially when I realized that my Target shopping experience had aroused me to the point where I had to sit and wait another twenty minutes until I could leave.

What would my mother think if she saw me on the nightly news, arrested and dragged from the Redondo Beach Target “cafe,” still aroused from looking down the blouses of mothers shopping for Pampers for their children! 

Tonight on America’s Most Wanted

“Redondo Beach is a sleepy town on the coast near Los Angeles.  It is a family-oriented town where children go to church and everyone is polite.  But every community has their bad apples, the underbelly and perverts who walk the street.  One of the favorite Saturday activities in this pleasant beach community’s is for mothers and their children to go to the local Target for some fun, relaxation, and shopping.  Little do the unsuspecting mothers know, that in the cafe, is Neilochka Kramer, the lowest form of pervert, ogling women like  one-dimensional sex objects when he is supposed to be writing realistic female characters. ”

NIGHT

Sophia got her Wii fit delivered.  I said I would connect it and figure out how to use it, but I did the laundry instead.  I was feeling passive-aggressive.  Why are we getting a Wii JUST as I’m about to move out?

At 2AM, I turned on Showtime.  There was some soft-core movie.  I have no idea what it was about, but I watched a scene where  a sexy woman in high heels (male screenwriters again!) comes into a bar/restaurant, asks the bartender to show her to the women’s room, and then the two have sex in the cleanest and well-organized restaurant kitchen in existence.  

The minute the situation became ”hot” and the woman stripped down to her bra, some annoying jazz music started to play on the soundtrack.  It made me wonder what would happen if sex really caused this John Tesh-like music to play in our minds.  Would I become impotent?  I think I would rather BE impotent than have to endure this same music every time my pants came off.  I certainly would want the sex to be over VERY QUICKLY just to stop the music.  On the positive side, women would want it over fast, too. 

“Come on.  Stick it in and get it over with already!  Just make this third-rate jazz music stop!”

This was my Saturday, May 24th.

Two Years Ago on Citizen of the Month:  Driving in LA - In Two Parts

If you know that your friend’s husband is cheating on her, do you tell your friend?  Of course you do. 

If your friend is dating a man who is hiding his prison record from her, do you tell her?  Absolutely.

If a family member is in trouble, and you have the opportunity to help save him, wouldn’t you?  Yes!

To most of us, the blogging world is a safe haven from the real world.  We chat, we tell jokes, we listen.  But there are some of us who don’t belong in civilized company.  The sick tastes of these individuals have been so perverted through time that they are a danger to us all. 

I am naturally speaking about those who put pineapple on their pizza.

Two days ago, I made a sarcastic comment on Twitter about the inhumanity of putting sweet Hawaiian fruit on pizza — PIZZA — Italy’s greatest achievement, surpassing even that of the Renaissance. 

I’m a traditionalist.  I don’t like pizza with anything on it other than cheese and sauce.  But I accept the weaknesses of others, and have enjoyed pizza with pepperoni, mushrooms, and other acceptable toppings.

It wasn’t until I moved to California that I became aware of the terrible illness that grips the rest of our country – putting weird crap on pizza.   Was it the fault of the infamous California Pizza Kitchen?  The nasty Wolfgang Puck (who once tried to injure my family with a cheaply made pan)?  Or the negative influence of the Papa John’s and Domino’s and Pizza Huts of the world?  Why would you put PINEAPPLE on a slice of pizza?  Do you put apple sauce on your hamburger?  Mango on your pot roast?  It is insanity!

Sadly, many of you ARE insane.  Several of you wrote back to me, announcing that pizza with pineapple was your favorite type of pizza!  How weird!  And disgusting.

I know you took me into your confidence when you revealed this information to me, but this is too serious an issue not to warn the others.  I am not suggesting that we make a blackmail list against bloggers who enjoy pineapple on their pizza.  I am just suggesting that we proceed with caution.  Perhaps there are other “secrets” that they are hiding.  Do we really want to share a room at BlogHer with any of these folk?  I personally don’t trust them.  Who knows what other sicko things they are doing with their food products?

If you put crazy things on your pizza, please tell me now, so I can delete you from my blogroll.

And please be wary of the following individuals:

dailytannenbaum @Neilochka Take me off your blogroll if I’m on it. Although I did burn out after having pineapple pizza as much as possible in college. 01:22 PM May 21, 2008 from web in reply

iamthediva @Neilochka i like pineapple on my Teriake Chicken Pizza… and yeah, the whole “Ham and Pineapple” thing is huge up here. 12:08 PM May 21, 2008 from web in reply to Neilochka

Nedra @Neilochka There goes my chance to make it onto your blogroll — pineapple pizza is my very favorite. Oh well. 09:38 AM May 21, 2008 from web in reply to Neilochka

DownWithPants @Neilochka - I like you Neil, but if it comes down to you or pineapple on pizza, I’ll have to pick pineapple. 09:18 AM May 21, 2008 from txt in reply to Neilochka 

Miguelina @Neilochka If pineapple on pizza is a sin, then I guess I’m going straight to hell. 12:12 PM May 21, 2008 from web in reply to Neilochka

catheroo @Neilochka I had pineapple on my pizza just last night! 09:06 AM May 21, 2008 from txt in reply to Neilochka

lauriewrites @Neilochka We call it Hawaiian pizza in Maryland. Ham and pineapple. : ) 12:06 PM May 21, 2008 from web in reply to Neilochka

– and here’s a real pervert:

fluidpudding @Neilochka I am hesitant to admit this, but my absolute favorite pizza showcases pears, pine nuts, and Gorgonzola cheese. 

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  Out of the Past

Are your readers complaining that you never respond to their comments, or spreading mean-spirited rumors that you only email those female bloggers who can be seen on Flickr wearing tank-tops or extremely tight t-shirts that read “Fussy:  writing well is the best revenge?”  This plugin is for you.

Imaginary Wordpress Plugin:  Automatic Comment Respond-o-Meter

Overview

This Wordpress plugin allows you to respond to your commenters automatically, bringing a human “touch” to your blog and making your readers feel as if the blog administrator really cares about their opinion rather than just their “hits”.  Social media strategists and probloggers all agree that taking the time to “service” your reader will help you monetize your online property and increase you page views. 

Automatic Comment Respond-o-Meter has 350 unique responses to every type of comment.  Most responses are general enough that after publishing your blog, you can just go off to see a movie, and let the plug-in do all the work.  Your readers won’t know a thing.

The 350 responses have been scientifically picked to be as broad, but as positive-oriented as possible, delivered randomly.

The blogger “response” will show up several minutes after the initial comment, at varying times, so it appears to the average reader to be written by a busy, but lovable human being, and not the plug-in bot.  Gender set-up is done on the administrative page, as well as the level of “snark” that you want exhibited in your personal response.

This plugin requires a basic knowledge of HTML to modify your comment form.

Example of Use

comment:  I loved this post.  And it is so true what you say about American Idol.  I’ll be glued to the screen tonight!

automatic response after three minutes:  Thank you for that great comment.  You are the best!

Other popular responses include:

“How true!”

“Have you seen the Wikipedia article on this subject?  Fascinating!”

“Now I know why I chose you as my blog crush.”

“Can’t wait to see you at BlogHer!”

“LMAO.”

“I hate you.  Only joking!  I’m just jealous of how talented you are.”

“Dooce couldn’t have said it better.”

“That comment totally turned me on, baby.”

and the always useful, “Yes!!!”

Installation

Download the Automatic Comment Respond-o-Meter Plugin version 1.1 Beta
(For Imaginary Wordpress 2.5+)   Coming soon!

To install, unzip the files into your /wp- content/plugins/ folder. Then activate it under the Plugin menu in your Wordpress admin.

If you want to modify the theme, it is extremely easy to do.  Simply make all the necessary changes to the following:

<ol class=”commentresponse”>

<?php foreach ($comments as $comment) : ?>

<li <?php echo $oddcomment; ?>id=”comment-<?php comment_ID() ?>”>
<?php echo get_avatar( $comment, 32 ); ?>
<cite><?php comment_author_link() ?></cite> Says:
<?php if ($comment->comment_approved == ‘0′) : ?>
<em>Your comment is awaiting moderation.</em>
<?php endif; ?>
<br />

<small class=”commentmetadataresponse”><a href=”#comment-<?php comment_ID() ?>” title=””><?php comment_date(’F jS, Y’) ?> at <?php comment_time() ?></a> <?php edit_comment_link(’edit’,’ ‘,”); ?></small>

</li>

<?php
/* Changes every other comment to a different class */
$oddcomment = ( empty( $oddcommentresponse ) ) ? ‘class=”alt” ‘ : ”;
?>

<?php endforeach; /* end for each comment */ ?>

</ol>

And the winner for the best description of the meaning behind Starship’s “We Built This City” is — the beautiful Memarie Lane – with this gem:

I think I’ve got it. They’re alluding to the founding of our country, the philosophies of which (freedom of religion and speech and all that)were considered very radical (i.e. rock and roll) at the time. But since then we keep rolling farther and farther back,through soft rock and disco and Motown and so on until “we just lost the beat.”  So basically they’re saying we need to vote for Ron Paul.

As I mentioned two posts ago, she wins nothing.  No Wii Fit.  Nothing other than my gratitude and me wondering what she looks like naked.

As you have probably guessed by now, this post is really about nothing.  I’m writing it very quickly, in between my morning shower and breakfast.  Since it is a toss-off post, it gives me a chance to show you the “real” Neilochka, who can be a bit of an asshole.  Most of the time, I try to be “literary” in my posts, making sure there is a intellectual point.  I usually write my posts out in longhand first in a notebook.  Today, I am just spitting out crap right onto Wordpress.  And it feels pretty good.  Perhaps it was my therapy session yesterday that helped open me up to new possibilites.  Why do I need to worry about you — the reader — so much?  I’m not “dependent” on you.   What is the worst thing that can happen if you think my blog sucks?  You’ll stop reading it.  Will I die?  I doubt it.  There are plenty of you who once read this blog and have moved elsewhere.  Maybe you’re trying to move into the elite mommyblogger’s circle and have no time for the men.  Perhaps you were insulted by my post where I portrayed Archie and Jughead into violent superheroes.  You might be a new reader who wrote a comment, and then I never responded to you… and was disgusted at me.  I apologize.  I feel the same way as you when I comment and the person doesn’t respond.

“What’s wrong with her?” I wonder.  “Am I not good enough?  What a snob she is!  Blogging is so elitist!”

Well, we do things differently here.  If I don’t respond to you right away, don’t take it personally.  I love you.  It’s not YOU.  I’m the one who’s f**ked up!  That’s right.  That’s exactly what I was thinking while sitting in therapy with Brenda yesterday.  I’m f**ked up!  How long have I been writing about MOVING — yet I never move?  Why do I have such a weird on-again/off-again relationship with this “separated” wife?  The only honest answer is that I’m… f**ked-up.  Ta-dah.  There I said it.  Now I can work on the solution.

Let me make the announcement here.  If Sophia and I split up “officially,” I don’t want any of you sleeping with me for at least six months.  No matter how hard I try to get into your pants at BlogHer, just say NO.  I am NOT ready for it.  Don’t get suckered into it when I say that your eyes are like God’s soul, and shit like that.

Besides, I’ve been with one woman for eleven years.  The first time with someone else WILL be bad.  And over very fast.   And I will be crying.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

OK, back to blog comments –

So, if you write a witty comment on the blog, and it looks like I’m blowing you off, now you know the reason.  I’m f**ked up.   Just keep commenting, because it makes me feel good — and that is a public health service.  Besides, a lot of cool people who come here.   You should read their blogs.

Granted, there are funnier and more popular blogs where you will make more connections — such as Bossy — but I compensate by being advertising free.   And I don’t make you put those dumb badges on your blogs.

Also, since I am a bit emotional unstable, you never know what I’m going to do next.  So, I’m not boring.

For example — only a real nutcase would write three posts in a row about Starship’s “We Built This City.”  Most bloggers would be all worried about losing their readers and people hating him.

But  — I DON’T CARE.  I’m crazy like that!  I’ve been laughing for the last ten minutes because I’m now going to put up ANOTHER version of the song — the third in a row!  Ha ha ha ha.  You see, I’m not THAT nice!  I have a bit of a mean streak!  But I find it soooo funny, like the inner child I am.

And that’s what blogging is really about, isn’t it?!

Sometimes the God of Rock and Roll works in mysterious ways.   Consider Sunday afternoon –

It was hot in Los Angeles, and I was sitting around in my underwear, looking at different music videos on YouTube.  By chance, I hit upon Starship’s “We Built This City on Rock and Roll.”  I’ve always liked this song as a guilty pleasure.  At the same time, it was sad to see that the former members of the great Jefferson Airplane falling so low.  This 80’s music video had a self-importance to it, but I couldn’t figure out what was the “message,” if any.   What City were they talking about?   Was this a cry against corporate radio?  Who were all these teenagers running from the huge rolling dice in Las Vegas?  What was the symbolism behind the Lincoln of the Lincoln Memorial coming alive and singing the chorus, “We Built This City on Rock and Roll.”  Was this song about Pierre-Charles L’Enfant, who created the plans for Washington D.C.?  Abraham Lincoln was one of our finest presidents, but I doubt he would ever be about “rock and roll.”  I decided to write a post about this video.  I ran a contest.

The winner of this contest is the one who writes the best description of what the artists are trying to communicate in this music video.

As I expected, I received humorous comments from my readers.  After all, many of you were the “class clowns”  and “misfits” during high school.  But the most intriguing comment came from someone who didn’t even watch the video.  It was from Natalie, who writes the blog Tell Me About It.  She lives in Turkey.  The Turkey Turkey.  Isn’t that interesting?  I’m not exactly sure how this New Orleans girl ended up in Turkey, but I bet you that after drinking that Turkish coffee, she ain’t ever coming back to Starbucks.

Here was her comment concerning the music video:

– and once again i miss out because youtube is still banned in turkey. dadgum. i so wanted that prize!

“YouTube is banned in Turkey?!”  I asked.

Fascinated, I Googled the subject to learn more.  Apparently, this is not the first time Turkey banned YouTube.

According to the Huffington Post:

A Turkish court has again blocked access to the popular video-sharing Web site YouTube because of clips allegedly insulting the country’s founding father, according to reports Sunday.

It was the second time Turkey banned the site because of clips deemed disrespectful to Mustafa Kemal Ataturk. It is illegal in Turkey to insult the revered figure, whose portrait still hangs in nearly all government offices nearly 70 years after his death.

Some of the most offensive videos came from Greece, where the Turkish founding father was called “gay.”  This was considered an insult to “Turkishness.”

Turkey is not alone in blocking YouTube. Last year, the Thai government banned the site for about four months because of clips seen as offensive to Thailand’s revered monarch, King Bhumibol Adulyadej.

And in May, Moroccans were unable to access YouTube after users posted videos critical of Morocco’s treatment of the people of Western Sahara, a territory that Morocco took control of in 1975. An official blamed a technical glitch, but could not explain its nature or why it affected only the YouTube site.

Suddenly, the music video made complete sense to me.  It wasn’t the ”worst song ever recorded.”  It was a political anthem about freedom.   I even understood why Abraham Lincoln was singing along.  No country — Turkey — included should be allowed to prevent her citizens from rocking and rolling, even if it is to really crappy 80’s songs!  We as Americans must change the world and give everyone the chance to have big hair and giant dice… and make fun of their esteemed leaders.  And we shouldn’t be doing it through WAR and BOMBINGS!

We should be doing it through the POWER OF ROCK AND ROLL.

Free the bad 80’s videos on YouTube!

Natalie – here are some ways to work around your government’s censorship (via boingboing)

C’mon, Americans — it’s time to take our message of free speech to Ankara, to Bangkok, to Rabat –

We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

C’mon, Mt. Zion High School Swingsations — let’s show the world what America is all about!

The winner of this contest is the one who writes the best description of what the artists are trying to communicate in this music video.   

The winner wins nothing.