Miss America

Rob writes:

How do you feel about the Miss America Pageant?
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Sara writes:

I don't like the Miss America Pageant. The question is "why," and that's hard to clarify. Here's what I know:

1. It's useless. It contributes no appreciable gain to society. One might point out that plenty of other "forms of entertainment" are useless. I'd agree, but we're only talking about the MAP.

2. We already inherently judge each other based on appearance. This tendency is evolutionarily programmed into us ("will he/she make a good mate? Will he/she compete for my mate?"), and is encouraged too much in other avenues already. The last thing we need is to advertise and glamorize and essentially institutionalize that habit.

3. I'd comment on the competition being an exploitation of women, but ultimately these are all grown women choosing to parade in their skivvies to receive a verdict on their value. It's up to them. 

However, at some point (probably when each of these girls was about four years old) a mother took her little girl to a pageant, dressed her up, put her in age-inappropriate makeup and taught her how to smile, dance and walk for the judges. A mother taught her daughter that this is how she can find value in herself. A mother decided that, of all the paths available to her daughter in fucking AMERICA in the 20th goddamned century, this would be the most enriching and fulfilling. So I unequivocally object to the Miss America Pageant on those grounds, on behalf of not only the 50 little girls these contestants used to be, but also the thousands of little girls they competed against and trampled on their way to the "top." That is inexcusable.
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Rob writes:

Cheers, Sara, and good grief. Why good grief? I'll tell you why, god damn it. Because you have planted a flag squarely in the center of the territory most commonly regarded by intelligent people as "right." What you've written is smart, compassionate and smart. And not dumb. How am I supposed to disagree with you? Fuck my life, but here goes.

Of course, in general, I do agree with you, but I am wary of the fact that I think I agree with you in part because I'm supposed to. Because I've been socialized to. Because of the years and years of knee-jerk liberal inculcation I received at our hippie university and whatnot. (In fairness, much as I detest labels, I admit that I'd be more accurately described as a liberal than a conservative. But let's save that taxonomic breakdown for a later post.)

I'll address your points one by one. I'll even adopt your numbering convention because, after all, Math is a wonderfully dispassionate language, one upon which we might all find common ground.

1. This first point is a difficult one to respond to, as I don't quite feel qualified to quantify what quanstitutes an "appreciable gain to society." I mean, the motherfucker makes money. We live in a money-driven society. We are avid consumers. We are, most of us, wildly acquisitive. It wouldn't be hard to justify the pageant on purely financial grounds, but I find that I lack the desire to pursue that argument. That's okay, though, Pavs. I have more than enough vitality in me to poke at points two and three.

2. So you wrote this sentence, regarding the fact that we judge one another based on appearance: "This tendency is evolutionarily programmed into us, and is encouraged too much in other avenues already."

I have to ask, Pavs, as I take the side of the doomed devil: if some tendency is evolutionarily programmed into us, how can it be bad to encourage it? Considering the fact that said trait was selected by nature to become and remain a dominant one. Was nature wrong? Is God wrong?

These are massive questions, and will inevitably lead to a discussion of morality and belief, which I look forward to having, but for now I'll just nudge you for your assertion that the last thing we need is to institutionalize our natural-born, or, if you prefer, god-given impulses. What else would you expect us to do?

3. Everything you say here feels correct (and I'm glad you avoided the exploitation argument). I am personally most sensitive to the bit about mothers inflicting pageants on their little girls. I really feel you there. However, as a man, thinking about the Miss America Pageant, I also feel other things. Things my more left-leaning friends may well think of as "caveman-ish," or "horrible," or some such other judgy adjective for describing the way I was born. Oh, liberals. Oh, my politically incorrect cock. I will expound. Get ready to want to punch me in the face.

First off, it is biologically impossible for me to argue with a chick who can play the piano and looks good in a two-piece. There is a part of me (give you one guess where it resides) that couldn't care less about the social ramifications of the show. I want pretty faces. I want ass. Give me my pretty faces and ass, God bless us all. That said, I'm pretty sure the Miss America Pageant isn't remotely what it used to be, in terms of what it means to dudes. Which is to say, I used to beat off to the grainy black and white teaser ad in the TV Guide when I was twelve, but with the advent of the internet, it's like, who needs Miss America for jack material anymore? Not I. Not when I can go online and watch last year's winner pull a train on the New York Knicks if I want to. (I do not want to. But it wouldn't be wrong if I did. But I don't. Wait, do I? No.)

Hang on. Now I kind of do.

I'm going to turn it back over to you now, Pavs, before my non-argument devolves any further. School me, buddy.
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Sara writes:

First, thanks for making Math a proper noun. Makes it feel like you're talking about our buddy, Math, who helps clarify things when the going gets vague.

You know, I thought when I was first responding to your question that I should go into more detail about the evolutionarily-programmed bit. Thanks for calling me out on that.

The question of evolutionarily selected traits being "right" or "wrong" is probably worth its own attention in a separate discussion, but I will give the single trait we're talking about here some focus now. Judging. (Ah cripes. Note to selves: talk about judging and superior vs. average in the Ayn Rand context another time.)

I have no proof handy, but it makes sense to me based on observation and my own theorizing that we are evolutionarily predisposed toward judging other people based on their appearances. Those people who successfully judged their potential mate as being strong enough to carry/support their offspring likely had more viable offspring make it to the reproductive age.

However, just because this was a valid trait in the past doesn't mean it should continue to be encouraged. To wit (thanks in advance, Math!):

1. It's possible that traits encouraged by natural selection are no longer necessarily desirable. Case in point: Men are evolutionarily predisposed to spread their seed as widely and frequently as possible. In today's society, though, that can have negative repercussions (unwanted pregnancies, disease, the dissolution of a desired relationship). It would directly improve the quality of some men's lives if they could corral their impulses. (Note that I said "some men." Have at it, Rob.)

2. With this in mind, I'd argue that the trait of judging based on appearances is one that's ripe for a manual override. It is potentially harmful, often simply incorrect, and fails to take into account many of the more important qualities a person can have. (Like "a rich inner life." Or "wisdom." Or "judgment." "Humor." "The intelligence and stability to make enough money to financially support a family." For example.) These things aren't so easily handled by the Miss America Pageant's format.

3. I don't see anything wrong with attempting to rise above our base natures. Again, a topic for another discussion, but in short: Humans have incredible potential. The art, philosophy, dance, music, science we've explored... Our limits are as yet untouched. If we're to invest time and money and training in some national "institution" (although I don't really think the MAP can handle that label any longer), why not focus those energies in one of those directions? This as opposed to spending millions of dollars in production and advertising to shove our children's noses back into the primordial soup.
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Rob writes:

Sara, I adore you.

Your response calls to mind an interview with Richard Dawkins I watched once. I'll have to paraphrase, but in it Dawkins discussed why Creationists are wrong when they assail Evolution on the grounds that "survival of the fittest" is bad for humanity, and why (they say) that is Science's fault. First off, the notion that Science ought to be held culpable for the truths it discovers is completely absurd. Second, Dawkins noted that he rejects the notion that we must or should be slaves to our impulses as other animals are. Of course we can reflect on our own behavior. Of course we can aspire to improve. Whatever that means for us as individuals and a society. This seems to be what you're driving at, and I'm with you.

Still, I think your notion of a "manual override" of Judging Based On Appearances may be too optimistic. Of the five senses, humans give primacy to the ocular one (seeing is believing), and I don't see that changing.

I look forward to our continuation of Nature vs. Nurture and Superior vs. Average in a more instant-messagey format. I like the idea of a rapid-fire, dual-perspective blog.

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Sara writes:

Ah, thanks for the Dawkins interview reference. I'll have to check into him.

And you're right: my manual override may be premature. Is premature. (I don't think I've ever dated someone without a bit of Judging Based On Appearances.) But reaching is good, right?

I look forward to more, too. Until then.

Random Question

Rob here. Thanks for dropping in.

Before I get into the titular thrust of this entry, I want to kick things off by illustrating for you, the reader, just how cloying my relationship with my friend Sara can be. To outside eyes, I mean. Not to mine. For me it’s an absolute dream. I’m being serious.

Okay. So, two days ago, Sara and I were chatting online about children. I was saying how I hate them and she, having three kids of her own, was being her usual magnanimous self. Taking nothing personally. Hearing me out. Letting me vent about an obnoxious four-year-old I wanted to stuff in a sack and heave into a river. Anyway, at some point we agreed that it might be fun to capture our chats in a more permanent forum, if for no other reason than to remember them later ourselves, and thus began the process of launching this masterwork you see before you. Which brings me back to cloying.

Jesus Christ, you should have seen us. Or, more accurately, read us. Sara’s near Seattle and I’m in Los Angeles, but we might as well have been holding hands and skipping gaily round a maypole, the way we were expressing our bold-faced, excessively capitalized delight. And don’t even get me started on our use of exclamation points.

But we were. We were excited. We are, I daresay, excitable. So we flapped our hands over fonts and background photos; we tittered about our display name. We must have been the giddiest people on the planet to embark on a literary endeavor with such massively limited potential for readership and none whatsoever for cash.

You get it, though, don’t you, reader? The saccharine celebrations tell you all you need to know. Our puppy faces are dead giveaways. Sara and I are doing this, writing this, strictly for love.

And hate. Of children. But that’s me, not her. And I’m getting ahead of myself. There was a question. Oh, yes! The random question!

Here’s what happens. You set up a blog with Blogger, and in the Profile Edit page, down at the very bottom, Blogger poses a random question, the answer to which you’re meant to clack out in a box, using no more than 1,200 characters. The ostensible purpose of this exercise is to help readers of your blog gain a clearer understanding of who you are. Like, as a person. Based on how you’d respond to finding yourself sitting in your jammies at the annual White House Correspondents’ dinner. Or some such silly conceit.

In any event, Sara and I were game. We want you to know us. Really know us. So we agreed to tackle Blogger’s hard-hitting random question, and pass our responses on to you. (Also, by the way, please leave your own response to this question in the comments section. I know it’ll help us know you better. Which is a lie on my part.) And the question is:

Which is more important to you and why: flexibility or expandability?

Right. This question makes me think instantly about my dick. Sorry for that, but it’s true. Honest admission: I sometimes wonder whether I have Tourette’s Syndrome. The most recent manifestation of this dread disorder would have been yesterday, during the hyper-happy process of naming this blog, when I suggested to Sara, only half-jokingly, that we might want to call it “Single Fuck Married Chick Ass Cock Olympics.” But I digress.

Expandability is more important to me than flexibility, of course. No guy I know has any desire to fuck a twisty straw, and neither do I. I think that statement will stand on its own. And powerfully.

Fair enough. That’s my answer and my first entry. I welcome you, the reader, and my writing partner, Sara. Here she is now.
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Ah, Rob. You charm me to bits.

So. Reader. You know now about our motivations, such as they are, for the blog. (I suppose I’m going to have to get over my aversion to that word now. Not only does it make me think of the Borg when I write it, but because it’s short for “weblog” it makes me feel like someone who calls pizza “za.”)

Rob wasn’t overstating our giddiness at setting up this little project. I don’t know if I can quite convey the feeling, but I can hope that you’ve had it yourself, in which case all I need to do is remind you of it. Did you ever get a glowy, melty mass at your core, spreading just behind your breastbone, in anticipation of a grand adventure? That’s what I feel when I see the image Rob picked for our site. Taking off into the great unknown.

The not-knowing is the key. We have some pretty fundamental differences, Rob and I, so it’s fascinating (to us) to see what the other thinks about the questions we hold in common. How do we see the answers differently, and where do we converge? That’s how our conversations began (“What do you think about this?”), and the reason we’ve maintained them is because the answers have been pretty interesting.

I hope you find the same.

To answer the question at hand today, I actually came to the same conclusion as Rob, but for somewhat different reasons. Heh. “Somewhat.”

Surprisingly enough, I didn’t think of genitalia when I read the question. The concept of expandability actually gets right to the quick of a pretty important, basic tenet of my approach to life.

I mean, flexibility makes your life pleasant. It smooths the waters around you when you can bend enough to see someone else’s point of view and allow them to maintain it without a fight. And the ability to roll with whatever is happening around you makes for a more contented mind. People who are thrown by change end up disoriented and unsettled for much of life…because as we know, the one constant in life is change.

Forced to choose, though, I’d have to say that expandability is more important. And here’s why:

We honestly could die at any moment. The plane I’m on right now could crash. My brain could spout an aneurysm. My heart could seize. I could slip down the stairs and break my neck.

I don’t mean to be morbid—just realistic. Our days are numbered, and that number could be anywhere from 3,000 to just one.

And holy shit, what a world we get to participate in for however many days we have! There are so many places to see, languages to learn, books to read, instruments to play. I still would like to learn to crochet, surf, do a great butterfly stroke. My Spanish is spotty at best, and that needs to be remedied. I haven’t spun under the rain in a while, and my library queue is backing up. I hear the Mediterranean is beautiful, and I’m incredibly ignorant about Asia. (What a huge area of the globe to be ignorant of. Need to fix that.) Indian cookery! Why don’t I have a go-to Indian recipe yet? I did learn two new constellations this summer, but can’t recall them right now. (A couple of c-somethings, below Cassiopeia. One of them is a square.) Unacceptable.

So much to do.

So, although I know life is more pleasant when I can bend enough to get along with the people around me, and can flip-turn when life calls for it (knocked that one off the list last year, btw), I could live life as an inflexible asshole if I had to. I can’t imagine, however, living a life with static horizons. Without expanding your mind, your skills, your experiences, you might as well breathe from a stale paper bag for 80 years.

And that ain’t living.