| I heard about the �Art Exhibit� on a Tuesday, I think, and immediately saw its breakthrough potential for the Movement. It was a Media Event just itching to be fed to the word-sharks, and thereafter Heavily Covered. It was, as they say in the trade, Good Story. Oh yah, like dogs at the gravy-bowl. The press is very predictable, as I learned in my many years jousting with them as a public information officer for an, uh, highly placed government institution. The Boulder Penis story had conflict, it had drama, and it was just chock-full of Prurient Interest and Violence. In short, your Basic American Pie. Framed in the proper way, it was a heaven-sent opportunity to rub the culture�s nasty, hypocritical man-hatred in its own face � and to entertain everybody to boot. I�ve participated in some protests, have witnessed dozens of others: it really doesn�t take much to organize and produce a small one. A few signs, a sandwich-board, a couple megaphones, some well-placed phone calls, and perhaps four uncowed, fully committed people and Shazzam: first a curious camera-crew or two, then a couple bites on the Late Newz. The next day intstead of four protestors, a whole passel of previously-castrated men will have miraculously re-grown their danglies. And Praise the Lord! Those four �miraculously� turn into forty. And those forty into four hundred. And by the end of the 2001 winter, well . . . quite a hefty little avalanche might have fallen on the condo of American Matriarky. I figured that the Boulder Penis protest would go regional, no problem, and probably national, at least through the wires. It�s not that tough, if one understands The System. First thing I did was ask one of MANN�s activists, who lived near Boulder, to call all the �men�s organizations� in the area and enlist protestors. I had no money, no car, a temporary roof, and over a thousand miles to cover, and about three days to arrange everything before the Saturday protest I�d planned. I was ELATED. This was The One we�d been awaiting: the breach in the Dragon�s hide, that poison alchemy of greed, malice and preening arrogance that allows the fatal dart�s entry. Puffed up on victory, on their assurance that American males were completely castrated, the Matriarky was now parading elementary school kids past rows of dangling, severed ceramic cocks. Now, I am no magician . . . but even I can make gold from that scenario. I was confident that the details -- lodging, fellow protestors, transportation, and anything else I needed -- would appear. It always does, me droogies. (And how grateful and humbled I am for it.) So I gathered up a couple volunteer protestors from the website, and began planning the protest (that�s �conspiring to commit terrorism� for you in Can(t)ada). I think it was Wednesday when I heard back from the Boulder contact. He�d called a douchebag full of �men�s organizations,� and explained the Abominable Exhibit to them. Not ONE person or group out of the whole rottun crop wanted to protest. Feature it. Out of dozens of organizations billing themselves as �advocates for men� (Elks, numerous church groups, new age �spiritual� organizations, ad nauseum), NOT A SINGLE MAN of righteousness could be found in the whole sorry lot. Not one man in the whole feminized pack. Leftie, Rightie, conservative, fundamentalist, liberal, the schmeer. Didn�t want to upset Wifey, no doubt. Or Sissy. Or the Daughter, or the Boss, or or or or. Meanwhile, all across America, organizations both publically and privately funded, existing for the sole purpose of female advocacy thrive like swamp parasites. In the small town near my current residence, the American Association of University Women has a local chapter that is connected (and funded) to the teeth. They�re all very nice women, of course. Very very nice, to be sure. And the men who bankroll, and boink, and support them � these men are all very nice, too. Yes. Solid citizens all. This AAUW chapter, remember, is located in ONE small town amidst our vast Land of Freedom. In ONE town, the Matriarky boasts an organization far more effective than any group the Men�s Constipa . . . er, Movement . . . has to offer. Such are the odds ranged against our little uprising. And the sweeter will victory be. I�d half-anticipated that the �men�s organizations� of Colorado would puss out � though I hadn�t expected such Apocalyptic Castration � but no matter. I was positive that a few guys with picket signs � if they were the right guys � would get the job done. There was nothing, I felt, that could stop us. It was a made-to-order scenario, with the enemy providing the weapons of their own destruction. I only feared one thing: that the Matriarky would wise up before Saturdary rolled around, see the Media Frenzy looming on the horizon, and hastily remove the �Art Exhibit.� |
| Part Five of Nine |
| Men: The Constipated Movement |