80th entry to the Colonel`s Scrapbook
Born on October 14:
Grover muppet (Sesame Street), for the delight of kids and grownups
Born on October 14:
Grover muppet (Sesame Street), for the delight of kids and grownups
1633 James II king of England (1685-88) ,since William III sounded him off as boing boing in the Battle of the Boyne, he had no more choice than to let his treacherous daughter take over the throne and go with his wife Mary of Modena to live as kept birds of Louis XIV1644 William Penn English Quaker & founder of Pennsylvania, what a way to shake off
1882 Eamon DeValera NY, Pres of Ireland (1937-48, 51-54, 57-59) , sorry,liked Michael Collins better than him1888 Katherine Mansfield New Zealand writer (Aloe, Garden Party)very entertaining
1890 Dwight D Eisenhower Denison, Tx (R) 34th Pres (1953-1961)poor guy,when he chose to have an Irish mistress, his boss Marshall told him he would personally make his life a living hell 1894 e. e. cummings Cambridge Mass, poet (Tulips & Chimneys),sure hit it right when he said a politician is an arse on which anybody but a man has sat on
Deaths which occurred on October 14:
1944 Erwin Rommel German Field Marshall (WW II-Africa), dies at 52 , poisoned by orders from Hitler, so payeth the devil to those who serveth him well1959 Errol Flynn actor, dies, top child molester and lover of Tyrone who had the Power to drive him crazy
1990 Leonard Bernstein composer (West Side Story), dies at 72,I still hum his Marìa without being aware of it,well, it figures, he had Jewish excellence
Events
1066 Battle of Hastings, in which William the Conqueror wins England, this wise bastard really knew how to earn himself the throne…left king Harold with an arrow through one eye on the sandy beach 1586 Mary Queen of Scots goes on trial for conspiracy against Elizabeth,what a plotting conniving wanton she was!
1980 Bob Marley's last concert,after that it was known that he had a brain tumour and would die the following year…thus we lost one opf the most talented guys of popular music
1964 Martin Luther King Jr wins Nobel Peace Prize,they already owed him that award when he got it
THE BATTLE THE SEXES
On a day like today,my great great ancestor William the Bastard or Willy the Conqueror,call him as you please, went from his French duchy of Normandie to defeat Harold II at Hastings, leaving the English king dead on the sandy beach with an arrow poked through one eye. With the Battle of Hasting, not only did England get herself the guy who would build the Tower of London and introduce aplle pie, but also the person who through his Norman invasion would unwittingly incorporate so many French words into the Anglosaxon jargon that until then was English. It was a Battle that on the long run improved the future for England,and its language. But some battles, like the one of the sexes, is something that never has as many losers as winners, the defeated and the victorious always end up mingling in the strangest ways possible. Today, something I presenced made me think of the thin Demilitarized zone that is the division between the sexes. What is feminine and what is masculine? Can someone in military boots and at the same time wearing breasts ever define that? I have been called a tomboy, even suspected of being a lesbian until I married at the very late age of 27 (at that cipher, women who remain unmarried in my country are viewed with suspicion), and my climbing upon the ladder of hierarchy has been hampered by the fact that I was unwilling to climb it on my back and with my legs splayed open. What is mannish,what is womanish? Is the difference exactly in why we sport a penis or if we wear makeup?
The scalpel goes deeply into the skin, which has by now undergone so much asepsia you could eat your meal right off the surface. First,a thin string of blood, then the yellowish fat underneath,then the ruby muscle,and flesh. The surgeon draws in his breath. After so many surgeries, what does he feel exactly? It is a human being in his hands, his chance to play god, and so many medics have the idea they are indeed some major or minor deity. Nothing is lost. Dearest reader, if you have a stomach that easily gets queasy, be aware I am going to describe to you a sex reassignment surgery performed in Nicaragua by a Nicaraguan surgeon, on a Nicaraguan male who slowly realized after 34 years of living in the wrong body that he had to do anything necessary to wear the skin and shape of the woman he had been since birth,by one of those ghastly mistakes that sometimes Mother Nature-turning into a stepmother-makes. Two British surgeons are there,watching. Do they believe it can`t be, that what they watch is impossible,a brown-skinned third-world-born surgeon is really doing this? It is not the first time I watch surgery being performed on someone. When one of my childhood chums,Mathilde, born her last son in 1986, I was still an imprudent and impudent maiden with a videocamera taping her labor in the wee hours of Mother`s Day,and I had the privilege of holding her son Sergio as he was taken out of her. Squeamish I am not, heart of my heart between the lines. I shalt not faint,and I didn`t.
Wow,playing god to reassign sex. Nothing is lost, I think as I take pictures. Not one ounce of the penis,which has been diminished by female hormones like estrogen for months before the surgery, is lost. From the dark skin of the scrotum the new vulva will be fashioned. This man will look like a real woman after a few months. A strong blood cataract comes out when the new vagina is being formed. For some time after this person will have to keep working with dilators so the pocket of flesh that is newly formed doesn`t collapse and scar, closing the entrance that is not crowned by the omnipotent uterus from which life springs. This new woman will never menstruate,and never have the joy of bringing forth a child. Medical science hasn`t been able to produce the spark which gives us the basic fire of life. In that, my heroine Mary Shelley was right when she wrote at age 19 on a single night her masterpiece Frankenstein. Men haven`t been able to do away with us for that purpose, which is why we women continue to reign although men have been dumb enough not to realize it.
A small wave of dizziness hits me. No I am not weak or afraid.I am having my blessed period,maximum of blessings that we women have apart from childbirth. The camera keeps on clicking as the translation into English automatically flows from my unlipsticked mouth. A damp spot grows on my back,pasting the light yellow and purple cotton dress to my clammy skin. I am glad it is not me on that operating table. How much blood and pain will this person have to shed in order to attain what she believes may be her dream,as long as it doesn`t turn into a nightmare. As a new woman, this person will learn to handle high stiletto heels, the snap of a bra( there already splendid cup c breasts on the chest, heaving softly in the ethereal rhythm given by the anesthesia),and the way skirts flow. Why do these transsexuals learn things that even natural women like myself don`t eventually do? I hate high heels, never wear a bra because there is no sound reason for it with my modest cup size, and I care know how I cross my legs because skirts are second nature to me. And all the legal hassle of redefining your birth certificate,changing your ID cell(a process which in Nicaragua may take ages due to the corruption, inefficiency and red tape in the Supreme Electoral Council), getting a new passport. This person will wear lipstick,and choose perfumes supposedly assigned to women(although I find Eau Sauvage and Burberry`s Weekend, both for men, more appealing than Jontue by Revlon or Shalimar by Guerlain). This person will stress that the cooking skills are necessary in a woman, and try to do the best possible task at daily chores. Feminine. Whoever invented that the woman has to always be salaaming to the man? I ask myself this question every Sunday while I cook a huge meal surrounded by my mostly male(although spayed)cat population.
Is this thing of defining what is good for a guy and what is stereotype for a girl what causes us to always be having hassles in our relationships between men and women?Does it have to be a rule that a baby boy must have blue and that a man in a pink shirt is suspected of being a sissy? How many homophobic words do we have coined in any language, just to punish those who have another taste? Bull dykes, lessies, Miss Tortilla, nacarados, queer, poofters, pèdes, cochones, patos, queers, queenies, ladybugs, maricones,all languages are full of sexist slurs. All flesh is warm and it all bleeds under the scalpel, I think while I sympathize with the person laid open on the surgeon`s table. Pain will be the same,whether he is satisfied with the results, or not. The largest sexual organ is the brain,and its basic composition,regardless of its weight(women have heavier encephalias,sorry guys),is basically the same. And don`t give me the bullshit of female and male soul, because in first place as atheists say we might not even have one for all we know and the grams lost at the moment of death may not be the soul departing with its luggage but the quantity of piss or shit we let out when everything is finally relaxed by the soothing hand of Lady Death.
The surgeon finishes refashioning the person`s genitals.Is our identity there? Is a lady`s honor, or her family`s pride,there in a thin membrane called the hymen?
I think of all the pain,discomfort,itching,stinging and numbness this person will feel .Going to the toilet will be an ordeal, walking around true Chinese torture. Will satisfaction be the pot of gold at the end of this person`s sex rainbow? Will this person also become sexist,discriminate against others or be discriminated against by being called a butch?
How much does the flesh have to endure in order to attain a femninine ideal?Will this person become a feminist?
Sex, my reader, was the real serpent in the paradise of Adam and Eve. If nature had created a third sex, would there be more or less strife in the Battle of the Sexes? How long shall this battle rage on, if we don`t put a stop to it by common sense, which is the least common of all senses?
1882 Eamon DeValera NY, Pres of Ireland (1937-48, 51-54, 57-59) , sorry,liked Michael Collins better than him1888 Katherine Mansfield New Zealand writer (Aloe, Garden Party)very entertaining
1890 Dwight D Eisenhower Denison, Tx (R) 34th Pres (1953-1961)poor guy,when he chose to have an Irish mistress, his boss Marshall told him he would personally make his life a living hell 1894 e. e. cummings Cambridge Mass, poet (Tulips & Chimneys),sure hit it right when he said a politician is an arse on which anybody but a man has sat on
Deaths which occurred on October 14:
1944 Erwin Rommel German Field Marshall (WW II-Africa), dies at 52 , poisoned by orders from Hitler, so payeth the devil to those who serveth him well1959 Errol Flynn actor, dies, top child molester and lover of Tyrone who had the Power to drive him crazy
1990 Leonard Bernstein composer (West Side Story), dies at 72,I still hum his Marìa without being aware of it,well, it figures, he had Jewish excellence
Events
1066 Battle of Hastings, in which William the Conqueror wins England, this wise bastard really knew how to earn himself the throne…left king Harold with an arrow through one eye on the sandy beach 1586 Mary Queen of Scots goes on trial for conspiracy against Elizabeth,what a plotting conniving wanton she was!
1980 Bob Marley's last concert,after that it was known that he had a brain tumour and would die the following year…thus we lost one opf the most talented guys of popular music
1964 Martin Luther King Jr wins Nobel Peace Prize,they already owed him that award when he got it
THE BATTLE THE SEXES
On a day like today,my great great ancestor William the Bastard or Willy the Conqueror,call him as you please, went from his French duchy of Normandie to defeat Harold II at Hastings, leaving the English king dead on the sandy beach with an arrow poked through one eye. With the Battle of Hasting, not only did England get herself the guy who would build the Tower of London and introduce aplle pie, but also the person who through his Norman invasion would unwittingly incorporate so many French words into the Anglosaxon jargon that until then was English. It was a Battle that on the long run improved the future for England,and its language. But some battles, like the one of the sexes, is something that never has as many losers as winners, the defeated and the victorious always end up mingling in the strangest ways possible. Today, something I presenced made me think of the thin Demilitarized zone that is the division between the sexes. What is feminine and what is masculine? Can someone in military boots and at the same time wearing breasts ever define that? I have been called a tomboy, even suspected of being a lesbian until I married at the very late age of 27 (at that cipher, women who remain unmarried in my country are viewed with suspicion), and my climbing upon the ladder of hierarchy has been hampered by the fact that I was unwilling to climb it on my back and with my legs splayed open. What is mannish,what is womanish? Is the difference exactly in why we sport a penis or if we wear makeup?
The scalpel goes deeply into the skin, which has by now undergone so much asepsia you could eat your meal right off the surface. First,a thin string of blood, then the yellowish fat underneath,then the ruby muscle,and flesh. The surgeon draws in his breath. After so many surgeries, what does he feel exactly? It is a human being in his hands, his chance to play god, and so many medics have the idea they are indeed some major or minor deity. Nothing is lost. Dearest reader, if you have a stomach that easily gets queasy, be aware I am going to describe to you a sex reassignment surgery performed in Nicaragua by a Nicaraguan surgeon, on a Nicaraguan male who slowly realized after 34 years of living in the wrong body that he had to do anything necessary to wear the skin and shape of the woman he had been since birth,by one of those ghastly mistakes that sometimes Mother Nature-turning into a stepmother-makes. Two British surgeons are there,watching. Do they believe it can`t be, that what they watch is impossible,a brown-skinned third-world-born surgeon is really doing this? It is not the first time I watch surgery being performed on someone. When one of my childhood chums,Mathilde, born her last son in 1986, I was still an imprudent and impudent maiden with a videocamera taping her labor in the wee hours of Mother`s Day,and I had the privilege of holding her son Sergio as he was taken out of her. Squeamish I am not, heart of my heart between the lines. I shalt not faint,and I didn`t.
Wow,playing god to reassign sex. Nothing is lost, I think as I take pictures. Not one ounce of the penis,which has been diminished by female hormones like estrogen for months before the surgery, is lost. From the dark skin of the scrotum the new vulva will be fashioned. This man will look like a real woman after a few months. A strong blood cataract comes out when the new vagina is being formed. For some time after this person will have to keep working with dilators so the pocket of flesh that is newly formed doesn`t collapse and scar, closing the entrance that is not crowned by the omnipotent uterus from which life springs. This new woman will never menstruate,and never have the joy of bringing forth a child. Medical science hasn`t been able to produce the spark which gives us the basic fire of life. In that, my heroine Mary Shelley was right when she wrote at age 19 on a single night her masterpiece Frankenstein. Men haven`t been able to do away with us for that purpose, which is why we women continue to reign although men have been dumb enough not to realize it.
A small wave of dizziness hits me. No I am not weak or afraid.I am having my blessed period,maximum of blessings that we women have apart from childbirth. The camera keeps on clicking as the translation into English automatically flows from my unlipsticked mouth. A damp spot grows on my back,pasting the light yellow and purple cotton dress to my clammy skin. I am glad it is not me on that operating table. How much blood and pain will this person have to shed in order to attain what she believes may be her dream,as long as it doesn`t turn into a nightmare. As a new woman, this person will learn to handle high stiletto heels, the snap of a bra( there already splendid cup c breasts on the chest, heaving softly in the ethereal rhythm given by the anesthesia),and the way skirts flow. Why do these transsexuals learn things that even natural women like myself don`t eventually do? I hate high heels, never wear a bra because there is no sound reason for it with my modest cup size, and I care know how I cross my legs because skirts are second nature to me. And all the legal hassle of redefining your birth certificate,changing your ID cell(a process which in Nicaragua may take ages due to the corruption, inefficiency and red tape in the Supreme Electoral Council), getting a new passport. This person will wear lipstick,and choose perfumes supposedly assigned to women(although I find Eau Sauvage and Burberry`s Weekend, both for men, more appealing than Jontue by Revlon or Shalimar by Guerlain). This person will stress that the cooking skills are necessary in a woman, and try to do the best possible task at daily chores. Feminine. Whoever invented that the woman has to always be salaaming to the man? I ask myself this question every Sunday while I cook a huge meal surrounded by my mostly male(although spayed)cat population.
Is this thing of defining what is good for a guy and what is stereotype for a girl what causes us to always be having hassles in our relationships between men and women?Does it have to be a rule that a baby boy must have blue and that a man in a pink shirt is suspected of being a sissy? How many homophobic words do we have coined in any language, just to punish those who have another taste? Bull dykes, lessies, Miss Tortilla, nacarados, queer, poofters, pèdes, cochones, patos, queers, queenies, ladybugs, maricones,all languages are full of sexist slurs. All flesh is warm and it all bleeds under the scalpel, I think while I sympathize with the person laid open on the surgeon`s table. Pain will be the same,whether he is satisfied with the results, or not. The largest sexual organ is the brain,and its basic composition,regardless of its weight(women have heavier encephalias,sorry guys),is basically the same. And don`t give me the bullshit of female and male soul, because in first place as atheists say we might not even have one for all we know and the grams lost at the moment of death may not be the soul departing with its luggage but the quantity of piss or shit we let out when everything is finally relaxed by the soothing hand of Lady Death.
The surgeon finishes refashioning the person`s genitals.Is our identity there? Is a lady`s honor, or her family`s pride,there in a thin membrane called the hymen?
I think of all the pain,discomfort,itching,stinging and numbness this person will feel .Going to the toilet will be an ordeal, walking around true Chinese torture. Will satisfaction be the pot of gold at the end of this person`s sex rainbow? Will this person also become sexist,discriminate against others or be discriminated against by being called a butch?
How much does the flesh have to endure in order to attain a femninine ideal?Will this person become a feminist?
Sex, my reader, was the real serpent in the paradise of Adam and Eve. If nature had created a third sex, would there be more or less strife in the Battle of the Sexes? How long shall this battle rage on, if we don`t put a stop to it by common sense, which is the least common of all senses?
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