A Rain of Frogs

Last week a man in the city I live in was barred from a women’s gym.

This in of itself may not surprise people. It didn’t surprise me. It did make me think, however.

The man in question is a transvestite, who was being harassed at the gym he was previously patronizing. It seems that the men working out there didn’t approve of him, and the constant comments made the experience so unpleasant he had to leave.

These are the exact same reasons women-only gyms were conceived of in the first place. Women were uncomfortable working out in the presence of men, and felt harassed. Understandable. It is interesting, however, that the women’s gym denied access to the man. But not surprising, as I said before.

The women’s gym is fundamentally discriminatory. By excluding men, they are discriminating on the basis of gender, which is illegal in Canada. There will be claims that it’s a private club, and therefore exempt from the discrimination policies of Canada. But that’s not going to fly. Golf clubs used to bar blacks, but the private club argument fell apart in court.

This case hasn’t gone to court yet, but it’s on its way. What it’s highlighted is that the concept of a women-only gym is unconstitutional by the laws of Canada. Undoubtedly years of court battles and arguments in the popular press will precede the eventual elimination of the women-only gym concept. Women will argue their rights are being trampled.

Just for a moment, picture an all-male club, and the subsequent wailing and gnashing of feminist teeth.

Extremism. Again.

1: There’s just some mornings, when your piss smells like coffee and your coffee tastes like piss.

2: You can achieve both anonymity and fame.

3: Nothing should come between man and pie.

4: There is something fundamentally wrong with the North American love affair with the car.

5: Forever isn’t as long as you think. It just feels that way.

6: Life can be linear, it can be a circle, or it can be a corkscrew. You get to choose.

7: Yesterday at the Art Gallery of Ontario, a group of artists “painted” a mural. One must ask: Is this art?

8: I think that in defining art, like in locating electrons, the very act of trying to pin it down changes it into something else.

9: Little separates the drunk and the philospher.

10: Slightly ironic is that we’re in danger of causing our extinction because of our addiction to burning the remains of dinsaurs.

Are you afraid of Friday the 13th? Of all the bizarre superstitions I’ve heard of, this one in particular is the one that confuses me the most.

Some brisk and unscientific scouring of the ‘net indicates that the fear of Friday the 13th is a combination of two separate phobias, the fear of the number 13 and the fear of Fridays. Both have their roots in christian mythology.

The simplest explanation for the fear of Friday is that christians believe that Jesus was crucified on a Friday. Adding a layer of richness and poetic justice, many theologians believe Adam and Eve were pitched headlong from the garden of earthly delights on a Friday. These same theologians believe that the Great Flood also began of a Friday. Pretty compelling stuff, if you’re a christian.

Non-christian historians often point out that the vilification of Fridays may have been done on purpose by the early Catholic Church’s policy of stamping out pagan religions. In the Roman calendar, Friday is linked to Venus (goddess of love), and in Norse mythology, the day is devoted to Freya, the Norse goddess of sex.

The fear of 13 could be much simpler. Judas was the 13th person to arrive at the last supper. In addition, the lunar calendar, often considered pagan by the Catholic Church (and thus worthy of being eradicated) was divided into 13 months.

Thats not all the background on the day, but it’s enough to cast some light on the christian phobia.

I’ve never had a bad Friday the 13th in my life. Lots of good things have happened to me. I won’t go into details, mostly because they’d violate my hosting terms.

But what about you? Do you have any Friday the 13th stories?

An Historical Downpour is a new featurette of Rain. It won’t be common, but once in a while I will feature something I wrote on a different blog under a penname. I hope you enjoy.

Originally posted as “Is recreational incest wrong?” at 10:06AM on February 5, 2004.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not condoning or condemning the idea of recreational incest. What goes on between consenting, rational individuals is their business, as far as I’m concerned. If nobody is getting hurt, how can it be a problem?

Today on an online forum, a heated and involved debate erupted on the subject of incest. I’m not sure how it started, but it certainly got everyone involved very rapidly. It seems everyone is an expert on incest. Pretty funny, considering how many people claim to be disgusted by the very idea. Sort of like being an expert in vomit, if you ask me.

Anyhow, debate rages on. Some claim that incest is biologically wrong, and that humans are genetically coded to avoid having sexual relationships with close relatives. Those opposed to the entire concept of incest assert that the offspring of such an incestuous coupling would reveal genetic deficiencies. While I’m not an expert in these things, I personally believe that this is only partially true.

I believe that repeated reproduction in the confines of a limited genetic pool would certainly lead to eventual deficiencies being revealed. I also believe that the converse is true. Some incredible genetic advantages would also be revealed. It’s like breeding race horses. They’re fast, but they’re also fragile. Nature has ways of dealing with non viable offspring. The mule is a prime example.

The advent of effective, convenient and available birth control has more or less rendered this entire biological line of argument against incest irrelevant. We’re discussing recreational incest, not incestuous reproduction.

The question remains whether or not humans are genetically programmed to avoid reproduction (the motivating force behind sex) with close relatives. I lack the resources to conduct a study to explore the situation, and I haven’t been able to find any other studies done on the matter. The rest of the animal kingdom certainly isn’t programmed this way. Animals will have intercourse with siblings, parents and children as readily as any other member of their species.

I wonder, how many boys fantasized about their sisters when they were teens?

If two consenting adult siblings choose to have safe sex, is that wrong? Nobody is getting hurt. There is no danger of genetically deficient offspring from the coupling (especially if the siblings are homosexual) and both parties are enjoying themselves. It can even be argued that sexual experimentation with a caring, supportive sibling is safer and more natural than sexual experimentation with others.

Removing any genetic dangers, perceived or real, eliminates any biological argument against recreational incest. All that’s left are moral arguments, which no longer have, and may never have had, any basis. Trying to justify a moral position with a flawed biological argument is absurd, yet sex between siblings remains taboo.

If it’s wrong, why is it wrong?

I’ve been trying lately to remove my own mental filters in order to see the world from the point of view of others. Obviously, by the very nature of perspective, I can never see exactly what someone else does, but by making the effort, I can approach seeing things the way they do.

It’s a fascinating experience. You don’t realize how jaded and constructed your perspective is till you try to look at something the way someone else does. The mind will absolutely rail against the process, demanding you see the world as you always have. You have to approach the shift in a subtle way

It’s one of the magical things about the arts. They allow the mind to maintain it’s ego-driven model of the universe while simultaneously allowing it to step back and see things from the artist’s point of view. By holding the mirror of art up to reality, we can gain a more varied, wider-angle perspective.

And that wider angle view is important. Less arguments would occur if more people could extract their heads from their already over-tight asses and see things with a fresher eye. The eyes of a child, to which everything is fresh and new and magical, untainted by the hardened edges of ingrained habits and moralities.

I’m trying to open my eyes and see things as I did when I was younger, when I wasn’t so caught up in my own mind and it’s peculiarities. It’s been a difficult exercise, but it’s been more than worthwhile.

It has shown me a lot about myself.