Le maudit Mo D.

behemoth woman of opinions

Today while I was sorting the high-dollar-value detritus of the Behemoth Man of Letters, I was taking small personal edification breaks (read: surfing the web) and as per usual, took several ganders at the Rollicking Improv Commentary (see link to your right). There were several threads of a theoretic basis going. One about some dude trying to impose a nationwide moratorium on the practice and performance of Harolds:

Which to me just comes across as pointless, ignorant, and the folly of an attention-starved provocateur. A wise man once said, "you need to get laid, young man," but because he was espousing his views on an improv message board, he was indulged with a number of supportive and/or you-are-such-a-dick responses from other readers. I personally think jackassery deserves to be ignored. Shouting matches with faceless, far-away children never yielded much in the way of fomenting reason in the populace. To me, at least, which is why I never feel the need to screed.

The other was about how the nomination process for a local theater award. The ball got dropped, but during that time, there was much chatter about whether or not the greater improv community should pursue this award for a troupe in our community. The noise rose and fell for a month and a half until the deadline passed and someone said "what ever happened with this?" Nothing!

Wading through these missives, I couldn't help but notice that the women in the community rarely participate in the theoretic banter games that are volleyed on the message boards. Maybe its because there are fewer girls than guys. Maybe because fewer ladies have day jobs that have them parked in front of a computer all day, with time to spare to express themselves. I don't believe this happens because the ladies feel they would be shouted down or that their opinions don't count. It's a curious fact of being female, I suppose. Intellectual sparring doesn't appeal to most of us girls.

I say that tongue-in-cheek, of course. If you read this blog, you know where I went to college, and in saying that I can almost feel the rugby cleats of a hundred Clinton-era feminists on my throat. Intellectual sparring did happen a lot back in the 'Hamp, but in a wildly different manner. Female sparring, as I witnessed and participated in it a decade ago, was based on emotions and personal experiences. "I" statements were the norm and you had more traction in your arguments if you were one of the LC's Daughters of Distinction*. As circumstances put me at a tactical disadvantage, I usually found ample reason to flee those interviews. I was not one of the Ladycollege's fiercest debaters, nor did I care to be.

Opinions, like assholes, nothing special.

Tell that to Behemoth Man of Letters. Six decades of dominating American literary and social thought and the man sells his scribbles to Harry for millions. Tastemaker mags like the New Yorker call him to ask him what he ate for breakfast and what it looked like coming out the other end. How many trees have died for this man's opinions? And why are we still listening?

I tried to figure out who the female version of BM of Ls is and the best I could come up with was Gloria. Gloria and Behemoth had their own differences BITD. In fact, there is a documentary where Behemoth summarily wizzes on second-wave feminism, much to the shock and awe of the 413 peanut gallery. I'd like to watch this, if for no other reason than after going through this man's garbage for the last month, I have yet to find convincing evidence that he's a capital-S sexist. Men are a power group, and asking them to relinquish their power through name-calling and overall-wearing just doesn't work. I might have believed otherwise ten years ago, but if I didn't, I wouldn't have had a place to sit in the living room.

But back to my 'prov homeboys. I don't know why this happens, but there are a group of people who get lathered over the Harold. For those of you who practice other religions, the Harold is a long-form improv format devised by Del Close. Dyna designed a pretty bitchin' wall chart about it that sums it up quite beautifully. Even though I am not a practitioner of the Harold (not because I have anything against it; my improv path just hasn''t lead me there), I still have that wall chart hanging in my living room, sort of like Catholics have crucifixes or Jews have mezzuzahs. Of course, local defenders and detractors, all male, get out their polemic machetes and start hacking. My gut reaction is, "why waste IQ points on this loser?" Which also begs the question, Madame Maudit, why are you saving yours?

So, my personal challenge is to embroil myself in all matters of improv-related opinion. Even if I can't muster the fervor required. Men have a lot of things right and maybe running the mouth regardless of what anyone else thinks without considering if what I have to say is relevant or valuable is what I need to get myself out of the miasma of politeness I find myself in. When I don't speak up on trivial pursuits, it is usually because I don't think anyone gives two shits about my opinion. Which is not the point! Does Behemoth think this way? No! And he's lying in a hospital bed right now, opining from behind an oxygen mask. And I promise you that anyone in earshot is hanging on his every word.

G-d bless you, N. M.

*add three points if you're queer, two points if you're an abuse survivor, one point if you're a woman-of-color or have a diagnosed personality disorder. Subtract one point if you're white, straight, obviously wealthy, a compsci major, or have a Brad Pitt poster on your wall. Five points added if you plan to start a rumor about present company or if you have dominion over the living room furniture. God Save the Commonwealth of Massachusetts!

Posted by Zerd at October 17, 2007 04:23 PM