Come learn your rights!

Come to TOE this friday (March 22) at 4 PM to learn what you can do to defend yourself against all forms of law inforcment. Learn what to do if Public Safety shows up at your door rambling about "a strange odor." Learn how to react of police get violent. Learn how to resist with non violence. Come learn how to not get your shit taken! This is a subject everyone needs to know about!

-Outsider

To Be Honest......

The V-Day movement is obnoxious. For anyone that doesn’t know, it’s some creepy cult’s plan to make Valentine’s Day into a celebration of female independence through vagina-empowering rhetoric and rape stories formulated to stimulate male guilt. The chief weapon employed by this fringe faction is known as the Vagina Monologues, and it is Eve Ensler’s (a militant lesbian vengeful over being abused by her father) episodic play in which some women get on a stage and say stuff about vaginas.

So I figured I’d get into the play, sit down, and sit fuming for two hours about all the bullshit the audience was being fed. But to my surprise, there wasn’t nearly as much of that as I anticipated. In fact, the whole ordeal was pretty un-evocative. I don’t mean just fury, I mean in general. I was actually quite pleased to discover that about two thirds of the play is potty humor.

Yes, there was some bullshit, obviously. Like in the monologue of the woman who gets all offended that no one’s invented a more comfortable tampon. Takes it personally that it’s uncomfortable to go to the doctor’s office. Thinks that it’s a conspiracy against women.It might have been a joke, but it was hard to tell.

And in all the stories about all the abuses men inflict. Every story about rape built up dramatically to it, putting the event on a pedestal from which it could be seen by all men, that they might feel ashamed. They sometimes seem even to go so far as to neglect touching on the woman’s trauma at being raped in favor of using the story to lash out against the male gender.

But for the most part, the Vagina Monologues was just some harmless fluff. Some gross-out anatomical descriptions, some crude references for shock value, some lame potty humor, some cutesy kid-babble, some stupid would-be poetry about the vagina as some sacred something-or-other. Final opinion: Skip it next time. It’s hardly even worth getting mad about.

-Enoch