An Ode To Itty-Bitty, Teeny-Tiny, Little Leather Panties
My title this installment is inspired by the movie 300. For anyone interested in a very interesting and entertaining action movie (not to mention the aforementioned itty-bitty, teeny-tiny leather panties worn by 300 well *ahem* endowed Spartans) I highly recommend it. I personally find it to be a brilliant idea. Muscled men, in not much clothing running around acting all manly in that I-kill-to-save-my-country way, jumping, stabbing, thrusting, usually a little bit dirty and sometimes all wet. Brilliant I say, brilliant.
All right, I’ll stop objectifying the other sex now. I don’t feel horribly bad about it, though and I’ll tell you why. Because it isn’t just the hotness of the Spartans that inspires my lust, it is, believe it or not, their personalities. In the movie you see the honor that drives them, the bonds of friendship, the love for their wives, children, and countrymen. Without that I wouldn’t be writing any “odes,” but with that I’m simply grateful that someone decided to present honorable men whom happen to be hot not wearing many clothes. That, I feel very little guilt for expressing.
As I sit grading papers I worry that my student’s ethics aren’t nearly as thought-out (or at least rationalized) as mine are. It can be “necessary and right” to kill someone they say, even if murder is always unethical. Well to that I say, why is murder always unethical? And if it is necessary and right but still unethical, is it perhaps neither necessary nor right? I am not claiming all ethical answers of the universe here, more just a general fright that these questions never seem to cross their minds. It is as if the world they live in cannot stand to be challenged in any way. That frightens me terribly, but then I suppose that’s why I’m doing what I’m doing. No fun being teacher if the people you teach have nothing to learn, myself included.
In any case, I have more papers to grade and more fantasizing to do. I also have a little bit of wishful thinking that I will receive an acceptance letter for myself (with funding) to a PhD program. I have even more wishful thinking that my friends will as well. If not I might just be moving back home with the ma and the pa and I’m not sure I’m ready for that sort of situation. Afterall, Spartans in itty-bitty, teeny-tiny, little, leather panties never date twenty-something teachers who live at home with their parents.
Oh, bless the leather panties though. Bless them indeed.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Captain America is dead! Shot by an assassin coming out of a courthouse! That’s not noble, or heroic!
Okay, I’ve abused my quotient of exclamation marks so I’ll stop now. But still, Captain America is dead. I’m not nearly as moved as I was by the loss of Superman, but that’s mostly because I’ve never been particularly close to Captain America. And anyone who grew up with X-Men learned to accept death in the Marvel universe at an early age. I now look forward to the release of Civil War in a graphic novel so I can read the whole story line—I wasn’t particularly interested but in a brilliant marketing move they’ve roped me in. Marvel and I have had a bit of a falling out, you understand, but perhaps they’ve reclaimed my patronage.
D.C. and I have been having a bit of a love affair recently, the Infinite Crisis was an extremely good storyline and I really enjoyed reading it. We’ll have to see if Civil War is as good—it seems to have possibilities. I really can’t wait until I’m tenured and can teach entire freshman seminars on comic books; I’ll have to be very clear to my students that we’re going to be doing that so none of them whine at me later, but I’ve learned that whining is what freshman do. No avoiding it.
But Captain America…can you kill Captain America? In some ways it’s the loss of childhood innocence—not a bad move, D.C. did it with Superman and it rejuvenated the industry, but I have been hanging on to Marvel as my last link to childhood. Now it’s gone. They aren’t the same comics they used to be. And for as many stories as they have had about racism, bigotry, responsibility, sacrifice and any number of other topics, they’ve never killed anyone I couldn’t let go.
This isn’t to say that I can’t let Captain America go; he was always a little to black and white for me. Captain America fought for the government in a way I never saw Superman. Perhaps it was the name, perhaps it was the origin story, perhaps it was the amazing propaganda, but I always found it difficult to completely put my trust in Captain America. To say he was “too good” seems odd since Superman ought to be the one seeming to be “too good” and, yet, that is exactly how I would describe my refusal to read Captain America comics.
But he has been a staple; something I could always count on. I have several professors who like to remind us that characters are not people, but maybe I would argue with them. Not because the characters are living or breathing, but because characters that move you, characters that are part of your life do become real people. They become friends, someone you think about, perhaps even write about or consider when attempting to develop what kind of person you want to be. They feel like a friend. For literary studies that doesn’t mean you can write about them as if there is a history there you don’t know, but it does mean, I think, that we can use them as touchstones for philosophical thought. They are symbols of our culture, icons. When we kill them it is (to borrow a word from my roommates thesis) iconoclasm and I think anytime you destroy a cultures icons that is a very real reverberation. That’s something that affects us that we are completely unprepared to deal with. We point fingers at “geeks” and say dude, get over it. He isn’t a real person. But that’s just it. Captain America is more than a real person, he’s an icon, an idea. And the destruction of that affects more than just your emotional well-being. It’s a sign of your culture changing, shifting.
People look at comic books and graphic novels and call them children’s literature, pop culture—without currency in true academic debate. The truth is that we imbue our heroes, in comic books, movies, or television, with iconic status and some trust that so long as Captain America, or Superman, or Batman is fighting the good fight we as people are still fighting the good fight. When they die or break or fail—it’s more than a story. It’s the destruction of one of our ideals.
So Captain America is dead. And even though I didn’t read his comic book often he was still my friend. And I’m sad.
Okay, I’ve abused my quotient of exclamation marks so I’ll stop now. But still, Captain America is dead. I’m not nearly as moved as I was by the loss of Superman, but that’s mostly because I’ve never been particularly close to Captain America. And anyone who grew up with X-Men learned to accept death in the Marvel universe at an early age. I now look forward to the release of Civil War in a graphic novel so I can read the whole story line—I wasn’t particularly interested but in a brilliant marketing move they’ve roped me in. Marvel and I have had a bit of a falling out, you understand, but perhaps they’ve reclaimed my patronage.
D.C. and I have been having a bit of a love affair recently, the Infinite Crisis was an extremely good storyline and I really enjoyed reading it. We’ll have to see if Civil War is as good—it seems to have possibilities. I really can’t wait until I’m tenured and can teach entire freshman seminars on comic books; I’ll have to be very clear to my students that we’re going to be doing that so none of them whine at me later, but I’ve learned that whining is what freshman do. No avoiding it.
But Captain America…can you kill Captain America? In some ways it’s the loss of childhood innocence—not a bad move, D.C. did it with Superman and it rejuvenated the industry, but I have been hanging on to Marvel as my last link to childhood. Now it’s gone. They aren’t the same comics they used to be. And for as many stories as they have had about racism, bigotry, responsibility, sacrifice and any number of other topics, they’ve never killed anyone I couldn’t let go.
This isn’t to say that I can’t let Captain America go; he was always a little to black and white for me. Captain America fought for the government in a way I never saw Superman. Perhaps it was the name, perhaps it was the origin story, perhaps it was the amazing propaganda, but I always found it difficult to completely put my trust in Captain America. To say he was “too good” seems odd since Superman ought to be the one seeming to be “too good” and, yet, that is exactly how I would describe my refusal to read Captain America comics.
But he has been a staple; something I could always count on. I have several professors who like to remind us that characters are not people, but maybe I would argue with them. Not because the characters are living or breathing, but because characters that move you, characters that are part of your life do become real people. They become friends, someone you think about, perhaps even write about or consider when attempting to develop what kind of person you want to be. They feel like a friend. For literary studies that doesn’t mean you can write about them as if there is a history there you don’t know, but it does mean, I think, that we can use them as touchstones for philosophical thought. They are symbols of our culture, icons. When we kill them it is (to borrow a word from my roommates thesis) iconoclasm and I think anytime you destroy a cultures icons that is a very real reverberation. That’s something that affects us that we are completely unprepared to deal with. We point fingers at “geeks” and say dude, get over it. He isn’t a real person. But that’s just it. Captain America is more than a real person, he’s an icon, an idea. And the destruction of that affects more than just your emotional well-being. It’s a sign of your culture changing, shifting.
People look at comic books and graphic novels and call them children’s literature, pop culture—without currency in true academic debate. The truth is that we imbue our heroes, in comic books, movies, or television, with iconic status and some trust that so long as Captain America, or Superman, or Batman is fighting the good fight we as people are still fighting the good fight. When they die or break or fail—it’s more than a story. It’s the destruction of one of our ideals.
So Captain America is dead. And even though I didn’t read his comic book often he was still my friend. And I’m sad.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
