The Te of Piglet by Benjamin Hoff
expert from chapter -The Eeyore Effect (on feminist)

Eeyore Amazons are so masculinity-oriented that they think of success, power, and all
that in aggres-sive, combative masculine terms. And so, just when a good many of us
men have discarded earth-family-and-society-damaging machismo, along come the
Eeyore Amazons, curs-ing and plundering like pirates in a bad Hollywood movie. Not
exactly what we would call Advancing the Feminine. Yet even as they imitate and
in-crease the worst sort of masculine energy, they denounce practically everything they
dislike as masculine and a threat-to the extent of seeing masculinity and threats that
aren't there. Stranger and stranger. For example, the Amazons want to eliminate what
they call the "masculine" (neutral) nouns, pronouns, and adjectives of the English
language because, they say, these words are demeaning to women. Then they
substitute words that are de-meaning to everyone. First, they made us change
chairman to chair-person- which meant the same thing as chairman, only it was harder
to say, longer to write, and just a bit silly. After a while, recognizing that chairper- -
son was indeed rather awkward and stupid, they made us change it to chair. You know
what a chair is. It's a thing. You sit on it.
So now Plain English has been turned into patronizing Lawyer-Politicianese . . .
If a person does not keep pace with his or her companions, perhaps it is because he or
she hears a different drummer [or drummerette?]. Let him, or her, step to the music
which he, or she, hears, however measured or far away.
. . . and equally nonsensical Pluralspeak:
If a person does not keep pace with their compan-ions, perhaps it is because they hear
a different, drummer.
For a classic example of what Eeyore Politiciz-ing can do to a language, here's a
not-so-brief-any-more passage from the "improved" Oregon Revised Statutes--one of
many such passages rewritten to avoid "masculine" terms and voted into law:
(a) When owned or leased by a farmer and used in transporting the farmer's own
agricultural commodities, agricultural products or livestock . . . that were originally grown
or raised by the farmer on the farm of the farmer, or when used in any transportation
which is incidental to the regular operation of the farm of the farmer, or when used to
transport supplies, equipment or materials to the farm of the farmer that are con-sumed
or used on the farm of the farmer.
When all the books and so on have been censored and rewritten to suit the Eeyore
Ama-zons, precisely what will have been accomplished? And why are words so
important to them, anyway? For example, if they marry, they reject their hus-bands'
family names. These names are paternal and are therefore symbols of "male
chauvinism," they say. So they keep their unmarried names-which came from their
fathers. (And their fathers were
strong advocates of women's rights?) Behind their antimasculine words, it's
Over-masculinity
as Usual, as the Eeyore Amazons imi-tate the lowest sort of masculine behavior and
further the very energy they criticize. They break up Men's Clubs, which, they say,
mean discrimi-nation. Then they establish Women's Clubs, in which no men are
allowed. They accuse men of being Sexists. Then they behave like Sexi~ts. They say
they want Sensitive Men. When they' encoun-ter such men, they shove them about. To
put it plainly, their New Woman wants to be like the Old Man. And maybe even worse. .
In a world that's practically screaming for re-lief from the Heavy Hand of
Hypermasculinity, the Eeyore Amazons give us More of the Same. Who needs it?
Countering Hypermasculinity with Hyper-masculinity is rather like dousing a fire by
pouring gasoline on it. You can't beat sensitivity into peo-ple. But you can beat it out of
them.
I
nto what sort of future, and what sort of world, are the Eeyore Amazons pushing
us? Where is respect for the feminine going? As anyone can see, women are being
Used and Abused more than ever. Never have they been portrayed so de-meaningly in
movies, television shows, magazines, and books. And, according to statistics, the
femi-nine side of the work force is not being paid as much for its efforts as it was twenty
years ago. The influence of the Eeyore Amazons may not exactly be setting femininity
Free, but it is making it Re-markably Cheap. If truth be told, respect for the feminine is
sinking like the Titanic-and, consequently, so is the state of the earth, the family, and
society. The Eeyore Amazons blame men for all this. They might be wiser to blame
misguided, excessive masculine energy-including that which they are advancing.I .1
When the original Titanic went down, it was Women and Children First into the
lifeboats. Now it' s Women and Children Last. As a young man explained to us after a
particularly nasty remark to his secretary, "We don't have to be nice to them anymore."
As do Eeyores in general, the Eeyore Ama-zons want men to stop being Chivalrous
(not that many are now, anyway). Chivalry is Patronizing and Demeaning to Women,
they say. But is it~ And is chivalry limited to the behavior of meIJ toward women?
Whether of the European or th€ Asian variety, the code of chivalry makes kindness.
consideration, and respect fashionable, and makes it admirable and desirable for the
advantaged t<J assist the disadvantaged. Without chivalry, it'5 Claw and Fang, Might
Makes Right, Kill or be Killed. So we, along with past Taoist writers,/ knights-errant, and
forest outlaws, would say: Ii you do away with chivalry, and do away with th
~feminine, Watch Out. To close this chapter, we would like to quote
from Hope Against Hope: A Memoir, in which ~al dezhda Mandelstam described the
Eeyore Effect at work in Stalinist Russia. Unfortunately, the Principle involved is not
limited to another society at another time, but is universal and ever-present:
There were once many kind people, and even un-kind ones pretended to be good
because that was the thing to do. Such pretense was the source of the hypocrisy and
dishonesty so much exposed in the realist literature at the end of the last century. The
unexpected result of this kind of critical writing was that kind people disappeared.
Kindness is not, after all, an inborn quality-it has to be cultivated, and this only happens
when it is in demand. For our generation, kindness was an old-fashioned, vanished
quality, and its exponents were as extinct as the mammoth. Everything we have seen in
our times-the. . . class warfare, the constant "unmasking" of people, the search for an
ulterior motive behind every action-all this has taught us to be anything you like except
kind.

We need new words. Ones that mean male and female that can be used to singularly describe actions. I get sick of reading about man doing what he did and all that but if you switch it to woman doing what she did it's still exclusive so we need new words.

Brooklyn Cheese Artist Makes Bed of Ham
By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

Published: June 4, 2004

Filed at 8:32 a.m. ET

NEW YORK (AP) -- An artist best known for decorative cheese has broadened
his palette, or palate, to ham. Cosimo Cavallaro, who once repainted a New
York hotel room in melted mozzarella, has covered a bed in processed ham.
``I feel like I am back in my mother's deli,'' the artist said Thursday.

His installation in a street-level gallery space of the Roger Smith Hotel in
midtown Manhattan involved slicing 312 pounds of ham and tossing the meat on
top of a four-poster bed. The installation, which took 3 1/2 hours, will be
kept in the air-conditioned room for two days.

According to the artist, no concern about cockroaches has been raised.
``They are welcome,'' he said. ``Imagine what this looks like from the point
of view of an insect.''

He added that his cheese exhibits had never attracted a mouse. ``Too much
cheese,'' he said. ``It would have overwhelmed them.''

At noon, Cavallaro, a burly man with long unkempt hair and a beard, was busy
working a chrome meat slicer, similar to one he had used as a youth, working
summers in his mother's delicatessen. ``I was a good slicer back then,'' he
said looking straight ahead as he flipped a handful of sliced ham behind him
onto a growing mound rising from the white sheets.

Outside, pedestrians stopped to peer in through the glass. Some called the
project a waste of food. But nearby delis were said to be picking up
business because the mounds of meat seemed to trigger appetites.

Cavallaro, 41, the son of immigrants from southern Italy, grew up in
Montreal and now lives in Brooklyn.

He asked his mother, who still lives in Montreal, not to attend the
installation. ``She would want to get in on the act,'' he said. But his
father, a metal worker who died two years ago, was less amused by his work.

``His father never let him play,'' said longtime girlfriend Sarah Jacobs.
``That's why he started with the cheese.''

Sliced ham, Cavallaro said, is ``a pure form of America: all kinds of parts,
boiled and pressed together.''

Despite his training in an Italian art school, he said he had rejected
Prosciutto -- ``It would have been pompous.'' He also shelved an idea to do
ham and eggs as ``too pretentious, too thought out.''

But he thinks he will always come back to food as a medium. ``The smells
bring you back to unexpected places,'' he said. ``It's very special.''

Gallery director Matthew Semler said he booked the exhibit for the fun of
it. ``This isn't work, it's play. That's what Cos does,'' he said, referring
to the artist.

Cavallaro says his cheese period ended two years ago, after he had sprayed
five tons of pepper jack over a vacant house in Powell, Wyo.

``I was cloaking myself in cheese. I had started getting comfortable,'' he
explained. ``I always need new boundaries.''

Tonight when we left the pink I hitched a ride with stickboy who was parked just a few yards away. When we got into the car we were cornered off by multiple police. The fuzz were hassling a guy sitting on the steps of what looked like an apartment building. This was going on right across from my passenger side window as I gazed at the spectacle I realized that the passed out guy they were hassling was chief, the same guy I met today while doing my plant watering rounds. The cops were actually fairly kind to him and just made him get up and walk on. While this was happening Keith walked by with the hippie folk he was writing of. It's a small world.

When I was on my plant watering rounds I came across a young chap who introduced himself as chief and he walked with me spouting crazy talk for 7 blocks or so. He invited me to someplace to play Go Fish with him. Crazy but nice.
After the watering I went over to a small garden around bidwell and elmwood. I pulled up a shit load of weeds so y'all should go over and walk through that tiny ass garden and try to appreciate the slightly weeded walkway that goes through it.

It's early. I woke up at one and I've been in front of this machine on and off ever since.
My first day of working went fine. I get to push this big green water barrel around (the water buffalo) and hook up extensions and water the hanging baskets. The first watering stop on my route is right outside paul's, matthew's, and terry's place.
I'll go water my plants around 9. I'm going to go early so I can put in a job application at this taco place I went past the yesterday day. Robin , Plant Waterer, Taco Maker, and Visual Artist. That sounds about right.
Other than that I'm thinking I'll be heading to the pink this evening.

Well, I'm off to Forever Elmwood soon. Working 9 till 1 what a way to make a living! Keep you eyes out for me when you drove down the strip. Soon I will be one of the few and proud who peddle down the street with a watering canister on wheels helping the pretty flowers grow.

I was just reading more of this story and I'm at the part where our hero or anti hero is talking with a prostitute he just fucked after making a drunken ass of himself in front of his old schoolmates.
It seems like a great idea that after living such a solitary, lonely, and miserable existence you can just pick a person up and make them listen to you. It made me long for a prostitute of my own but then I realized how out of the question that is so I started thinking about my trip to Toronto with Jesse all of those weeks ago.
We were walking back to the car after shopping for a ridiculous number of hours when we happened to pass a teenage bum sitting on the cold asphalt outside of a building. I said to Jesse "That's so sad, if I had lots of money I's help her" Jesse was cold and made the point that even if a person is young a bum is a bum and its the same thing and at least a young person has health on their side and things like that. I got his point at the time but looking back. If I had a job or some extra money and I was not burdened with the presence of my then friend. It would have been nice to take the young homeless girl to dinner, have a conversation with her, give myself the moral authority to question and advise her about her life.