YOU'RE WRONG
An Irregular Column
by Mykel Board
They're gonna put me in the movies
They're gonna make a big star out of me
The biggest fool that ever hit the big time
All I gotta do is act naturally.
--Buck Owens, Ringo Star, Charles Starkweather
It was more frustrating than a constipated GG Allin. Coming at me from all sides. Vegetarianism is natural. Homotude is natural. Patriarchy is natural. Oy vey!
In how many arguments have I proved that humans are naturally omnivorousþ not vegetarian? How many times have I shown that people aren't naturally endowed with a particular sexuality, but with every sexuality? How often have I demonstrated to those who say history is naturally male-dominated, that males are the ones who write the history?
What's natural is an argument used by everyone from animal rightists to white supremacists. So this month, I wanna look at that argument and see what I can do with it.
First, what the fuck is natural? There are a few choices.
Three of the most common are:
1. Natural is something genetically programmed, not a product of choice.
2. Natural is something common to animals and reflected in everyday life in the animal kingdom.
3. Natural is something that occurs without interference from products of human invention.
Reflecting my affinity for the rear, let's examine the last definition first.
DOCTORS DISCOVER NATURAL, proclaim the headlines of my healthfood store giveaway. I pick it up, expecting to find a hot spread with pics of naked doctors. Instead, there's a story on organic food. Yawn!
View number three, however, is the one used to promote everything from organic foods to nudism. It divides the world into "natural" and "artificial." God makes the former. Humans make the latter. Natural is good. Artificial is bad.
What is the validity of such a distinction? Humans are not the only animals to make things. Spiders make webs. Beavers make dams. Birds make nests. Are these structures "unnatural" because God didn't unzip them directly into the earth directory?
It's 1969. I'm at Big Sur in California, making the pilgrimage required by the decade. Three college buddies have joined me in the rite. We're there to commune with nature. To go where Henry Miller went. To experience the joy of that green covered rock, rising majestically out of the sea.
The four of us stop to smoke a bit of nature brought with us from town. I can't enjoy the view, though. Too much Mexican food has set loose the waters of my lower intestine. My fecal Titanic demands to sink. I excuse myself.
Walking uphill, I come to a small area fenced in with barbed wire. The wire is low, four strands around eight wooden stakes.
What evil lover of private property could build a fence here? I will violate that abomination.
"No one owns this beauty." I think, pushing the wire down with my boots.
"I shit on your ownership. All power to the people!" I tell the vegetation.
Pushing over a stake, I climb past the wire and enter a little grove of trees. Shiny green underbrush covers the ground.
Lowering my pants to my knees, I squat. Ecstacy! The brownness explodes outward, covering the leaves, the ground, the back of my legs. Another rumble. Another splat. Ahh, this is heaven-- fenced in with barbed wire.
After I'm done, I grab a handful of leaves and wipe my gloriously tender little hole. Wipe the backs of my legs. Wipe my fingers. Throwing the leaves back on the ground I think, "take that you barbed-wire oppressor." It's a few days later that I realize the leaves I used were poison oak.
Natural? Sure. But for weeks, I wished I'd had the artificiality of Charmin. Even if we accept the natural/human distinction, we have to acknowledge sometimes humans do it better. This definition does not make a good argument for natural. It certainly doesn't give ammunition to people who decide good or bad based on "what's more natural."
Now let's look at the second definition. Maybe we can judge what's natural if we look at what animals do.
A correspondent named Roxie wrote, There are some ducks (mallards) who live in the lake near my house. Every year, four males chase a female around (always the same female). One drake will hold down her head, two will stand lookout, while the fourth jumps on top of her. Of course, it is a lot of commotion.
In Discover magazine, author Barbara Smuts (yep, that's her name) described the following: The attack came without warning.
One of the males charged toward us, enraged, hair on end, looking twice as large as the small female. As he rushed by, he picked her up, hurled her to the ground, and pummeled her. She cringed and screamed. He ran off, rejoining the other males seconds later, as if nothing had happened. It was not so easy for the female to return to normal. She whimpered and darted nervous glances at her attacker, as if worried that he might renew his assault.
Was this a hardcore matinee? Nope. It was in the jungle, among chimpanzees, humanity's closest relatives. (Much closer than most attendees of hardcore matinees.) The conclusion: RAPE IS NATURAL, at least by this definition.
Do we justify it because animals do it? Do we say it's part of our nature, because it's part of animals' nature? Does this make it right?
Animals can prove anything to anyone. Social Darwinists have used perversions of the animal argument as long as there have been Social Darwinists.
"Anything is allowed," they say, "in the end it's the survival of the fittest. The strong triumph over the weak. Law of the jungle, you know?"
When Darwin talked about "survival of the fittest" he only meant the ability to drop puppies. Screw and spew. He wasn't talking about strength, power, ruthlessness or any of the other qualities the bell curvers use. Law of the jungle? Survival of the toughest? Yeah, just look at the dinosaurs. They didn't have a clue about survival. They were just big.
Besides, animals are cannibals, murderers and torturers. Is it valid to claim what we do is better because it's more like them?
Definition number three is the most difficult. It is the vaguest. When dealing with it, it slips away like a limpie on virgin.
How do we know what's "genetically programmed?" How can we tell what we add onto ourselves, and what is "really" us?
The idiots of science, and other self-serving institutions mutilate fruitflies in hopes of finding "the alcoholic gene," "the homo gene," "the intelligence gene." Genetics has replaced patriotism as the last refuge of the scoundrel.
Instead of "the devil made me do it," of the 1600s we have the "my genes made me do it" of the 2000s.
A young new-ager sits in full lotus position on the floor.
She is naked. Her long black hair hangs limply down the side of her face. Her breasts, double-fist size, dangle loosely against her ribcage. A small red candle burns on the floor in front of her. She trains her gaze on the candle, focusing her mind on the flickering flame. Her thoughts turn inward. She sees herself as a huge onion. Through her meditation she peels that onion. One layer at a time. She looks for center. At that point, she'll discover her real self, her true nature.
Slowly she peels. The outer layer. The next. Then, the next.
As the wax trickles down the candle stem, the young woman removes her ego, her personality, her parental influence. The great onion that was her being, slowly diminishes. When she peels the last layer, the inside is revealed. It is empty.
See? Both science and meditation are wrong. There is no REAL inner you. There is no you independent of the outside world, independent of your will and influences. Genetics may make your eyes green or your penis short. But it doesn't make you fuck boys or take drugs. Your personality is not an inner soul, but a combination of everything that happened in your life. When you throw away those onion skins, you're throwing away what has real meaning.
Twelve steppers tell each other they're powerless. Their body, their genes, have made them what they are. They have no choice. But others have gone through the same thing-- and through the force of their own will, controlled it. Different genes? How do you prove it? With fruitflies?
Homos now use "it's my genes" as an argument for their sexuality.
"I can't help what I am," they say. "It's genetic."
Homosexuality becomes a disease, like Ty-Sachs.
"Feel sorry for me. Don't hate me," is the implication. "If I could, I'd be just like you."
This argument takes away the "recruit" problem. "Your kids are safe," say the homos. "You can't catch a genetic disease."
Though they keep looking, scientists can't find that homogene. How could they? The idea of homosexuality is based in our culture. Other cultures consider only male butt-fuckees homos. In some cultures, there's not even the concept of homo.
How can a cultural idea be genetic? It can't.
That's not the point though. The fault is not in the answer, but in asking the wrong question. Why bother looking for a homogene in the first place? Why shouldn't you CHOOSE to be a homo if you want? And, if you want, why shouldn't you recruit new members into your club. Homo recruits have more fun than army or Jesuit recruits. What's the problem?
Basically, it doesn't matter what's natural. If we define natural as anything in nature, then everything is natural.
Nothing occurs outside of nature.
That means natural is not an argument for anything. Not for PETA. Not for Pat Robertson. Not for me. It should never have been important. Now, what do we talk about? How about: what's right?
ENDNOTES:
-->I've only seen a few Video-music CDs. Though I usually hate music videos, I like the idea of putting them on a disk. Then, unlike with MTV, the viewer has control over what to see and when.
Grita's (http://www.grita.com) "Todos Tus Muertos" and Sudden Death's (http://www.suddendeath.com) DOA (yes, THAT DOA), have done good jobs. They're an alternative to MTV's DIT (Do It THEIR way).
Also, there's some fun stuff for you to just stumble on.
By the way, DOA, in its latest incarnation, put on a great live show at Coney Island High. They played with THE PARASITES giving something for the kids to enjoy as well as us oldsters.
I wanna thank Bob Cutler for guest-listing me and giving me a $1 bribe for "product placement." Now, place that product right here...
--> So they're on a major label dept: I saw a kick ass record release double bill. DICK ARMY (the New York one) and THE BAD POPES. George thinks DA are like early Black Flag. I think they're too funny for that. TBP are right there in The Stooges mold. Tim wudda loved 'em. As to the major label thing. That's the name of their record company, A MAJOR LABEL. Get it?
--> What a deal dept: A company called TAXI ("The Leader In Independent A&R" (800) 458-2111 or www.taxi.com) sent me promo material. It promises "The easiest way to make money with your music will be staring you in the face tonight."
What do these guys do?
They send you a list of record companies. Next to each company is a note on the kind of music they're looking for.
You then match your music to the need and send TAXI what matches. They listens to your cassettes and forward on what they like. So, not only can you have major labels reject you, you can have these guys reject you too! Double the fun.
With a deal-making success rate of "from 5% to 6%," how could you NOT jump aboard?
Oh yeah, the cost: if you join before June 29 (too late!) you can get 50% off. That leaves you to pay a measly $249.95 for the year. Or "The Best Deal Ever" only $399.95 for two years.
Wow! Where's my checkbook?
--> I need an extension dept: A couple months ago I wrote in praise of REO SPEEDEALER. I planned to see them again at LIFE, a homocore club here in NYC. It didn't work out.
I quote the press release
...promoter MICHAEL SCHMIDT claims that the use of the words 'fag' and 'nigger' were overheard in the band's dressing room, by "extensions of" himself. He then cancelled the show, less then a week before it was scheduled.
Yow! Overheard by an extension! Now that's scary. Makes you wonder who those people on the street are extensions of.
If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, I say. I'm now recruiting extensions of myself for sexual escapades, exotic travel, and drug testing. If you want to apply, just tell me in 50 words or less, why you want to be my extension. Applications without nude photos of the applicant will be ignored.
--> Letter of the week dept: This one (abridged by me) came from Collin:
I applied to go to a college this summer to take philosophy classes. I was accepted. I was then sent an application to fill out about what sort of roommate I wanted. The application said "list 3 things you look for in a roommate". I put "an iron lung, a lazy eye, and a prosthetic leg." I got a letter back that said that they thought about not letting me go, because "it's not good to make fun of the handicapped." I was informed that I "need to be a bit more politically correct" but I would still be allowed to go.
Maybe if I had told them I didn't want to room with a 'spic' or a 'nigger', they would've been somewhat justified in sending the letter, but personally, I think iron lungs and lazy eyes are really funny.
Letters, humorous or otherwise are always welcome. As usual, you can reach me at: Mykel Board, POB 137, Prince St. Sta, New York NY 10012 or via email at: MykelB@ix.netcom.com or through my fledgling webpage at: http://www.freeyellow.com/members2/seidboard/ Sign the guestbook. Check the personals. Who knows what you'll find. Just clean up after yourself.
-->The pain of constantly being right dept: I've long argued that their are really no homos or heteros and no males or females. The whole thing is a bunch of made-up bologna, promulgated by a great conspiracy to make more Christians. Biologically, we're neutral with a whole world of possibilities.
So, on July Sixth, the New York Times runs an article:
"A Canadian boy who was raised as a girl after his penis was irreparably damaged during circumcision continues to live as a woman, suggesting gender identity develops after birth, researchers say."
Hmmm, if gender identity develops AFTER birth, that means it's not genetic, and it is malleable. That means you can be whatever gender you want to be. Don't limit your choices to one or two. Okay?
-end-
