Her Arabian Knights

There are very few occasions in my life when I’ve thought, “Jesus, if there’s a time you should take me, it would be now.”  Last night was one of those times.  I received an email from Cynthia three days ago.  She was suggesting we attend a play at a place called the Tank.  The small non-profit theater was tiny and looked grungy.  I was expecting an interesting experience.

At the beginning of the performance, a woman appeared and stated that membership to the organization cost only $12 – and you get 2 free tickets – meaning the performance would pay for itself.  We all looked at each other and thought – damn – a missed opportunity.  The lights dimmed, and we reclined in our folding chairs.  Enter the man in the jock strap.

Yes, he was only wearing a jock strap.  It was gold – and very much like a jock strap.  At first, I thought it was a pair of briefs. Then, he turned around and proved that there was no back to the briefs at all.  His butt was out and ready to be viewed.  After the shock of a man in a jock strap wore off, two men entered the stage.

They giggled in their pink Arabian gowns.  With bellies exposed, the shimmied around in their get-ups.  One of them was basically wearing panties with a shear covering over the legs.  Enter the only woman in the play enters.  She’s dressed in full Middle Eastern regalia.  Her face is covered with small specks that resembled a beard.  I suppose she was supposed to be a man during the entire play.

The play begins, and honestly, I am lost from the beginning.  I guess if I actually knew the stories of the Arabian nights, I wouldn’t have been so confused.  Regardless of story line, it was pretty bad. 

The following things happened;

1-    The girl with the spotty beard whipped out a dildo and faked sex with one of the men in pink.  As this occurred, they technical assistance booth play sounds of animated women moaning.  The girl with the spotty sharpie beard smiled with euphoria as the man-woman clawed around – pretending to be raped.

2-    The man in the jock-strap was around the entire play.  He didn’t once leave the stage.  He pranced around in his nudity.  At one point, he put on a blazer, but honestly, it was too little, too late.

3-    They periodically wore sunglasses.  What?! It was dark enough as is.  The sunglasses made absolutely no sense.

4-    I laughed – not because anything was incredibly funny – no, nothing was extremely funny.  At some point, the play as so terrible, that it breeched the borders of awful theater.  The insanity became funny.  With everytime, the woman raped the man… with everytime they crashed into something unexpectedly… with everytime the man-woman’s bra would come off to expose his/her breasts.

So, that was the first time I had gone to see a play since college where they made us watch people play out racial dramas.  Can’t say racial dramas was as bad as this, but it was a close second.  I may never return to the theater ever again…. I don’t care how good it’s supposed to be.

 

JJRC 

Sorry for the length… The Fountainhead Revisited

Hello, a couple of months ago (on January 4th), I wrote a post on how much I disliked the fountainhead… someone responded that I was wrong on a couple of points and that I should reconsider… to Walter from Chicago, IL.  Please enjoy.

I appreciate when people respond to anything I write.  I have never met with anyone who said they loved this book as much as you.  There was one girl who wouldn’t shut up about it during my freshman year, but she proved to an idiot who only enjoyed it for the controversy.  You, on the other hand, provide some depth in your response.  I will offer you a rebuttal now.

1 – I did not say that Roark and Keating were equally as talented in the field of Architecture.  That is incorrect, as you know.   Sadly, Roark is Keating’s only friend (in Keating’s mind).  Keating can open up to him and will tell him anything – things he would never tell his mother.  At the beginning of the book, immediately following graduation, Keating sits on the stoop of his house with Roark and tells him of how he wished to be a painter as a child.  This is a mirror of Roark – who decided as a child he wanted to become an architect.  Roark has no family and has been on his own for years.  Keating’s mother instructed him to be an architect because there is no money in painting.

If you remember towards the very end of the book when Keating and Roark discuss the housing projects, Keating arrives with some pieces of canvas where he has painted something.  Rand never tells us what was on the canvas, but Roark looks at him and says, “It is too late.”  He means that Keating cannot recreate himself into the painter he wished to be as a child.  He has chosen his path, and he must walk the line to the very end.  He then feels pity for Keating and is disgusted by the feeling.

I do not know much about Rand’s philosophy, but it appears that Keating was taking a step in the right direction.  He had decided he did not want to be a free loader, and he wanted to become the man he was to be, but Roark tells him no.  Who is Roark to tell anyone they are to stop?  It is against everything Roark believes.  I believe if Roark had evolved into something other than an architect, he would not be held back by anyone’s words – he encouraged the sculptor (whose name escapes me) to return to sculpting because it was his calling – perhaps I read too much into the painter thing, but this is how I interpreted it.

2 – Thank you for agreeing with the Toohey thing.

3 – Dominique Francon is an interesting character. The only reason I call her a whore is because she will willingly give herself to men who do not deserve her as punishment.  She will play the role of the perfect wife to effectively punish herself.  To give herself to Roark would be death because she would stop pretending and start being the perfect wife – submissive and adoring – no longer the individual she must be to keep Roark. Meanwhile, she cannot be alone. 

She divorces Keating, only to marry Wyndham.  Wyndham is the worst kind of second hander in accordance to Roark.  He is the highest offender due to his thirst for power over other men.  I will never understand why Francon would sleep with these men, and somehow internal reflection isn’t even something that she can handle well.  She needs external forces to help her to achieve her worthy state for Roark.  It seems contradictory to the essence of Roark and the perfection of man, but Rand has an interesting take on sex and gender relationships.  The woman and the man in all her books end up together, and the woman is a submissive creature in both.  The female is something that requires saving and guidance.  The Females are flawed and learns slower than the men in her books.

4 – I can’t really speak to the fourth piece.  This is my belief on Roark.  He is an elitist and an egoist in the worst sense.  Be the change you wish to be in the world – I hate that quote, but it is applicable.  Here would be a great time to implement strategies that could change the world. Roark can be considered another Christ figure.  The perfect figured of Christ perhaps – Roark is Rand’s answer to all the Toohey’s – and a reflection of what men can become (Keating being the opposite – One of Toohey’s protégés). Only Roark does not lead men – he waits for them to come to their own – without guidance.  He judges men and can be fooled (for example, he was fooled by Toohey and the old rich guy at the Temple).  It is selfish and very unnecessary – and it all runs by Roark’s standards and no one else’s.  Somehow he is the only correct person in the book – and those that differ in opinion are wrong and pervert the world…

I don’t believe I need to take yet another look at this book.  I’ve read it twice.  The first time in high school for cash, the second as a young man starting off in the world.  Neither time was I touched by it.   Both times I saw flaws with its ideas. I outlined some of those flaws here.  As you can see, I’m capable of more detailed analysis.  What was written for the blog was really a quick and dirty version.  I would have left it at that if not provoked.  Perhaps, you should take a second look at the book.  If you come to the same conclusions, than you and I fundamentally disagree and must go our separate way.  I am a believer of altruism – but I am no doormat.  I think there is a balance that can be struck, and Rand only speaks of extremes that do not really exist in real life.

Toohey’s niece is Rand’s definition of an altruist, but in what light was she painted?  She is ruined by her altruism – she stopped being a person completely.  She was cold and sterile – she frowned upon anyone who lived without her help and worked hard at making his or her lives hell.  This book is not something I can stand behind.  It is not something I can say I love, because I believe in the value of mankind, but I also understand and see the value of human interactions and connections. To remove that social networks makes us no better than apes – or Howard Roark.

JJRC

Difficult People

In this day and age, you would anticipate some level of cooperation amongst highly educated people.  Let me recount a quick trip I took to Philadelphia yesterday.  Sandy picked me up around her house.  We said our good mornings, and I began to enjoy my breakfast sandwich.  Sandy got sandwiches for everyone on the trip. She was a sweetheart.  We pull up to Mo’s place.  Of course, Mo isn’t ready.  We sit and keep talking.  A rap at the window.  It’s Tim.  

He comes in, Sandy points him to his sandwich and we continue talking.  Here’s where the conversation gets sour:

Tim: So what are we doing in Philly?

Sandy: Mutter Museum

Tim: What in there?

Me: Medical oddities as they describe it.  We talked about it during dinner on Tuesday.

Tim: I wasn’t listening.  We’re going to Philly… all the way to Philly to see a museum? Ugh – can we go site seeing?  I don’t want to go just for a museum.

Sandy: Sure…  We have all afternoon.

Tim: Now this will be worth it.

At this point, I had decided I had enough of Tim’s fat mouth.  I kept it civil and said nothing else about what we were doing in Philly.  Mo gets into the car.  Sandy points to her breakfast sandwich.  It has ketchup and salt and pepper.

Tim: Why didn’t mine have ketchup?

Sandy: You didn’t ask for it.

Tim: Gotta ask for everything?

At this point – I wanted to murder him.  

We go to the museum and he’s distant and bored.  We decide it’s time for cheesesteaks.  He decides we should get a cab – we veto him and walk.  He bitches the whole way.  We go the wrong way and need to walk back (this was not my fault per se – the map did not provide the correct street signs).  More bitching follows that.  We get to the cheesesteak place – get our food – we decide to get drinks afterwards at Smith’s.  

Tim: Ay, I don’t want to walk – can we hail more cabs?

Sandy – it’s only 10 blocks away…

Mo: Word let’s get a cab.

Tim: That’s what I’m talking about!

Me: I agree with Sandy.

Tim: TAXI!

My blood reached boiling point.  We get to the bar – he lounges – continues to mention how he needs to go check out Philly- at this point it’s about 5pm.  

Me: I kinda just want to go back home. It’s been a really long day.

Tim: Booooring.  Umm, let’s just stay here til about 10 and keep getting drinks.

Me: Am I the only one with things to do?

We pile back into the car.  Tim has to sit bitch (There was a fifth person that wasn’t really involved in anything).  He tries to force her into the middle – but he got to the car last – so logically – he sits bitch (it’s science).  Since he threw a huge fit – I swing my door open and say- I’ll sit in the middle – just get in the fucking car.  Honestly, I had had more than enough of his stupid whining.

We get to tolls – does anyone have $5?  Everyone looks – everyone except Tim.  ”I’ve spent too much money today – I can’t spare a dollar…”  Of course – he’s assuming everyone else rode and ate for free – also – no one told him to get the $8 drinks that were making him super irritable at the bar.

I was happy when he got out of the car with Mo.  I said good bye to Mo, got into the car and we drove off in awkward silence because he killed the vibe of the whole trip.

Why are people like this?  Why do they impose their foul view on something on everyone else and insist on remaining that way?  Personally, I won’t even embark on dinner if I won’t have as much fun as I think I should have – let alone a whole day trip.  Maybe that’s because my brain actually works. If I see this kid again within the next 45 years – it’ll be too soon

JJRC