Monday, September 8, 2014

I'm a Closet Feminist, And Fucking Proud

Not all,  but some prominent feminists have been insisting that God be spoken of in terms of 'She' and not 'He.'   I'm immaculately pleased to conform.

  I've been doing just as demanded ever since I made a godawful mistake and used the word 'Him' when commenting on a most brilliant feminist comedian's facebook post.   It cost me.  I'm on the geo-political B-list for life for clumsily failing to move with the times, and for not holding up my end of social reform.  Sorry about that.  Trying like a one-armed union affiliated LBGT paper hanger to make amends.

So I'm making a divine proposal:  Who is the best archetype for a female God?   The old world of entertainment provided Charlton Heston and a few other scowling,  robust, notable actors, when God was a fella.'  Next time there's a contest to figure out who the new God most looks like, there will be plenty of  good options.

Gertrude Stein and Golda Meir are equally right for the part, but then I used to watch Xena the Warrior Princess, and Lucy Lawless would be excellent.  Beatrice Arthur would slay as God, while Iman would also be hunky dory.  Partial as I am to delta blues, though, maybe it's Ma Rainey who could best manage the universe.  Why should the world be anglocentric and male supremicist, too?  Too much fascism.    It's the pimply, pasty white northern European male that made the world a war mongering, misogynistic hell hole of monopoly capitalism.  Maybe Rachel Carson should be God.  Or Ayn Rand.  She'd make a good God.

But no matter which woman wins, I will never refer to God as 'He' again.   Hope She digs my sermons.





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