One of the things researchers would do well to keep in mind, Kailey, as they assemble research constructs, draw up research proposals, and seek to STRAP PEOPLE INTO THOSE CONSTRUCTS, is whether the research construct is a BE-ABLE THING. If all BLs were like Jaynes/Sicarii, that would not be a BEABLE THING, for me. Nor are Cantor's constructs BEABLE THINGS. Nor is the poor wretch subjected to unwanted sex offender programs in prison; nor is the "sexual sinner" you are encouraged to identify with in Christian post-gay programs. Nor would I care to take a plethysmograph test under conditions where the results would be used against me, with the most tremendous negative impacts on my life. (As a Classical poet, though, I have perfect freedom to sketch my sexual response curve!) As a test for whether something is a BEABLE THING, Kailey, all you have to do is ask yourself: "If someone tried to force me to BE this construct, would I do so willingly? Or would I fight to BE SOMETHING ELSE, with all my strength? If forced into some conceptual strait-jacket unwillingly, as far as external matters, or just learning to talk the talk, would I invest all my ontological strength in maintaining a citadel of selfhood that was NOT violated by this construct?" Until you have made that thought experiment, and are able to talk about the results of it intelligently, please understand that you will be perceived here as an outsider . . . a looky-lou . . . a twit. It is understood that women are incapable of sin, farting, or misbehavior of any kind, especially now that the myth of what Eve did in the Garden of Eden has been exposed as a slanderous anti-feminist myth. But suppose women were capable of some sort of substantial wrong-doing, which for the sake of modesty and convenience, I will refer to as "Eating the Apple." How would you feel if I came to your house and offered to hook up electrodes to your private parts, to check you for clitoral twitches and vaginal lubrication, after showing you the kind of images that your sort of women are supposed to like? And have you engage in a little preliminary rubbing, just to get yourself warmed up? And then a lovely slide-show of things like: High-end real-estate with granite counter-tops . . . Nursing babies . . . Bathrooms with matching toilet-rug, toilet-tank-cover, and guest towels? And any little response on your part put you in a category of people who, for the rest of their lives, got NO nice real estate, NO happy nursing babies, and NO nice bathroom, only a shared stainless steel shitter shared with a ill-tempered, tattooed Latina gang member. I mean, there are whole genres and conventions for women who are into amused by Boizu Laabu comics, and surely that's a place you'd feel more at home in . . . . ---scotusbaby ![]() |