I Hate Women

Do not mistake this post as representing my hatred of women. I, in fact, do not hate women in the least! I think it's a miracle of benevolence that when Father Nature messed up and created the first female, he made the best of the situation. He said to Man, "Sure, this creature is weaker than you. And stupider. And nags you constantly. And really, overall just has no redeeming qualities but one. Enjoy boobs existing!" What a powerful thing for the patriarch of the world to do. Now you may be thinking to yourself, "Blog that I apparently believe sentient, isn't that a harsh stance? Aren't they deserving of respect?" No, they aren't. And I have evidence to back me up. I have the epitome of media detailing just how superior men are. I have Peanuts!

And I didn't mean that as a phallic metaphor!

Yes, Peanuts by the late Charles Schulz. Though a name like Schulz may make him seem completely unassuming, this man knew wazzup. His iconic newspaper comic is littered with insights to the truth, like tiny windows into the bathroom that you always hope no one will see you at. Let's examine this with the more widely known characters in the strip, Snoopy and Woodstock.

Swoooooon

Now it's obvious that Snoopy, seen above as the suave Joe Cool, is the manliest man to ever jive. Look at those sweet shades, that relaxed lean, and that badass sweater. He's so cool he doesn't even need his glasses to rest on his ears! They stay up by pure force of will. Schulz has created what man can be, but then has the stark contrast of what women are. Look now at Woodstock, a character who can't even speak. All Woodstock does is nag Snoopy, bringing him down, man. Woodstock can only look up and hope to be of the same awesomeness as Snoopy, but knows it's impossible. Woodstock is a dweeb. A klutz. A poor imitation of Snoopy that can barely fly without crashing and is constantly surrounded by birds that look the exact same, all unable to achieve anything more.

Without Snoopy, Woodstock is nothing. Schulz even named Woodstock after the giant hippie orgy conspiracy "concert" just to get his point across. The concert, obviously a subversive attempt to rid America of all morality and proper khaki pants, would be nothing without drugs and was wholly dependent on the brainwashed kids being complicit is such terrible addictions like smoking beer.

As opposed to a smoking bear, which
 is everything America stands for.

Similarly, Woodstock is the female attempting to undermine the powerful, independent male. We're even given clues to make the obvious metaphor even clearer, as Woodstock is yellow. Yellow, as is widely known, is the stereotypical color for a very specific race: girls. As are Woodstock's beady little eyes and inability to speak English to Snoopy. All very characteristic of women, all encapsulated into one short, comical character. Snoopy, the strapping white male, must carry Woodstock behind like luggage. But luggage made of women, not in the creepy Buffalo Bob sense, but in a more metaphorical sense. The metaphorical sense that's all about how men are better than women in every single way.

Pictured: Men being 100% manly

Haberdashery

In the interest of academia, there's something that's been on my mind and most seem to neglect pondering it.

At what point, I wonder, does a mythological icon stop existing? Is being forgotten truly the golden standard, or is that what we tell ourselves to feel better? I've occasionally, genuinely, wondered if the pantheon of ancients is not as full as we like to admit and that there are shallow corpses wasting away in the strange no-space that is our tradition of myth and legend. As a Western culture raised with a debt to pay to Noah, was part of that payment letting Utnapishtim rot contrary to his immortality? Do Apollo and Ra, instead of fighting for believers who invest in their legends, simply carve out geographic territory that was taken by YHWH? Are they now dead with YHWH holding the greater portions of the planet in competition with Himself?

What I'm saying, eclectic haberdashers, is quite simple. Do characters die as new versions are born? Did Utnapishtim cease to exist when later writers cobbled his themes and traits into Noah? Do Ra and Apollo waste in hell due to YHWH's monopoly on godhood?

Did everyone die so he could live?

Then again, what about the Mayan creator god retroactively becoming a three-fold god by Christian writers who weren't comfortable with penning this pantheon to paper without modification? Is that an abortion or a sex change? I feel like I've lost the analogy.

Let's stroll into Power Rangers esoterica. When Bruce Kalish deified Zuban (that is to say, morphed him into the Sentinel Knight, canonized saint of the Corona Aurora), did this KILL Zuban? In whatever plane of existence our mythology rests, did Zuban cease to be as Sentinel Knight rose to being? Did Burai and Kou forcibly pull together and from their union bore Tommy Oliver, who continues to consume and assimilate other icons?

I...what? I guess? 

Is derivative fiction, which is to say adaptation or what have you, some sort of murder? Or is it how they reproduce, instead? That's a bit less depressing; fiction survives by constantly repackaging itself. To take a secular approach, fiction and myth naturally reproduce by crafting derivatives that must survive in its particular environment. Is League of Extraordinary Gentlemen the end result of a slow evolutionary crawl to homosapien?

I ask a lot of questions, and you're not in a forum to answer. I sympathize. But it's just to get you thinking. Is the constant recontextualizing of fictions and myths murder, or is it Darwinian reproduction (or some third...creationist solution, surely)? Clearly, it's SOMETHING. Some sort of change, an upset. A shift that's all, like, paradigm and stuff. Passion or process, story changes. Story grows. Story depletes.

Story copes.

If only because it has to.

I think of myths, legends, and fictions as ideas. Communication. We are all ultimately defined by the stories of our society. They give us identity. But when these stories change, when these stories are consumed, things may happen to us that we don't totally understand.

Watch out for cannibals, is what I'm saying. Fuckers are sneaky.