I love it. Of all the things about Trump that our silly-ass Aunt Polly media might have considered–policy toward China, relations with Iran, reform of taxes–they seemed most agitated about…his sex life. Yes. Sure, he is a misogynist, homophobe, Islamophobe, fascist, Nazi, anti-Semite, and probably kicks his dog. Maybe a cannibal. But the truly horrid discovery was…that he thinks dirty thoughts about girls (as we all do–unless we are girls, and think dirty thoughts about boys) Shocking. Shocking.Clearly he hates women.
The famous dirty-talk tape is my favorite example of high-school outrage coupled with horrified old-maid moralism. It reveals what any sensible person would have assumed– egotism (a rare thing among the rich and famous), and a sexual interest in women. How is this misogyny? If there is one thing normal women don’t like, it is men without sexual interest in themselves. And who can blame them? Who wants an asexual boyfriend?
What seems most to have set people off is the “grab em by the pussy” remark. Crude language, of the sort normally used by men and women among themselves, where it is appropriate. It is where Trump used it. For the record, the idea that women are not human, don’t talk dirty, do not have rude sexual thoughts like everybody else, do not have the same kinky fantasies that men have, is twaddle. We are a sexual species. We think about those things. Deal with it.
Actually, most women seem to have dealt with it quite well. Some fifty-three percent of white women and forty-three percent of black women voted for him. Apparently they did not react with the required prissy horror.
Trump said something like, “When you are a star, you can do anything with women.” A statement of fact. Men are drawn to youth and beauty, women to money and power. A masculine man, which Trump is, known to be a billionaire and interested in sex, will attract many women in favor of providing it. For that matter, a gorgeous young honey might say, “When you are a gorgeous young honey, you can do anything with men.” That too might, or might not, be arrogant. It would certainly be a statement of fact.
In the music business the attracted honeys are called “groupies.” How many young women, of their own volition, would have tumbled instantly into the sack with Ringo Starr? Are such groupies not “objectifying” their targeted rock star–that is, regarding him as (Eeeeeeeeeeek!) a “sex object”? You bet. Or are we to think that groupies took a virginal interest in sounding the depths of Ringo’s soul in search of a lasting meaningful relationship? Do you suppose that Ringo objected to objectification?
Feminists complain–I could stop the sentence there- that men regard women as sex objects. I see. And what, prithee, are we supposed to regard as sex objects? Doorknobs? Porpoises? Doughnuts? Vacuum cleaner attachments? We are men, for God’s sake. Cocker spaniels just don’t do it for us.
The truth is that women want to be regarded as sex objects. Not only as sex objects usually, but certainly as sex objects. Maybe some man, somewhere, lost a girlfriend by regarding her as a sex object. A far surer way to lose her is not to so regard her. Why do you think women buy push-up bras, boob jobs, makeup, slinky dresses? Why do grocery-rack tabloids always carry three miracle diets guaranteed to have the guys drooling?
Why do men go to gyms, and sweat and grunt and smell bad? Is it only to piss off feminists by being macho–that is, masculine? This would be sufficient justification, but in fact they want to look good for women. Have you seen those nature shows on TV with male swamp birds puffing up their feathers, flapping their wings, and jerking their heads wildly about while making horrible noises? It’s so the girl swamp birds will love them. Thank God that girl swamp birds, and women, don’t have the sense God gave a crab apple, or men would have to date possums.
The Trumpian question becomes, how many of the women grabbed by Trump, if in fact any were, objected to it? If the grabbed women were raising hell, which apparently they are not, things would be different. Grabbing the unwilling is major social faux pas. If women were appearing who were forcibly raped by Trump, as so many women were by Clinton and Cosby, it would be a very different thing, and Trump would belong in jail. Are such abused women coming forth? Are Clinton and Cosby in jail?
A little realism, please. The age-old rule is that women trade sex for whatever they want, and men trade whatever they have for sex. It is how things are. If a pretty young woman likes the thought of going to a high-rollers’ night spot on the arm of a rich and famous man, and if the man likes the idea of having her do so–so what? Is it your business? Mine?
Finally, though feminists everywhere will hate it, there are a great many women who actually like sexually assertive actual men, instead of the docile manageables favored by Salon. The saying that “good girls like bad boys” is not without steam. Who do you think is going to get laid most–Marlon Brando or or some squeally darling of a gender-fluid girly-boy who can be lead around on a leash by a disagreeable Swarthmore co-ed?
One reason why Trump is so hated–and why he is President–is that he is an actual man–you know, like Killer Kowalski, Clint Eastwood, Marlboro Man, or Humphrey Bogart. This simply is not done among the house-broken nominal men of the media and the “elite,” and they don’t know how to handle it. Presidents? There was Bush II, asexual, a man without vibes. Obama, a pretty race hustler. Willy Bill Clinton, a slick Bubba with the I-feel-your-pain mixture of Oprah and Karo syrup that got him a lot of nookie–nothing wrong with that–but not masculine. All of the candidates except Trump were poll-sniffing remotely programmed ciphers.
Except Trump. He told all the pretty boys and mannish girls of the media, “Bite me.” This didn’t play well with plasticized viragos like Megyn Kelly–who, if she weren’t conventionally beautiful, would not have a job. Ever notice how many female anchors are at least pretty, and how few male reporters are handsome? There are plenty of first-rate female reporters, but they don’t get in front of cameras. This is reserved for bubble-headed babble blondes. Sex sells.