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Tara's Advice

Adam's Rib Redux

Dear Tara,
A week ago, I met this girl at a party and we hit it off so well we ended up back at her place. Everything was working out great until the next morning, when I had to leave for work. I didn't want to wake her up, so I had to leave my prosthetic arm behind. (She was lying on it.)

There are a few problems here. First, I need my arm. Second, she didn't know I had a prosthetic limb, since it was dark and we'd had a few drinks. I haven't heard from her since that night, but I'd really like to call her up and ask her out on a date (and also get my arm) but I'm worried she'll think I'm a creep.
Please advise, Gus

Dear Gus,
There we have it, ladies and gentlemen, the fin de siècle Sensitive Man. "I didn't want to wake her up," "I'm worried she'll think I'm a creep,"--etc, etc. So polite, so humble: "Oh dear me, I wouldn't hurt a fly." Gus, you're not fooling anyone with your repulsive attempts to come off as thoughtful and considerate. You're an out-of-control phallocrat, and you want one thing and one thing only: power power power for you you you.

I mean, let's just apply a little literary analysis to your letter, shall we? "My arm this, and my arm that"--it all circles around your goddam arm. Well, Gus, what about the arms of your one-night stand, aren't they important too? Did it ever cross your testosterone-drenched brain that maybe this struggling soul-sister needs an extra arm, just to cope with the vast quantities of male B.S. in the world? Or are you one of those men who don't think women should even have arms?

My interpretation of the situation goes like this: Your female partner knew exactly what she was doing when she fell asleep on your arm. Maybe not consciously, but in the innermost strands of her DNA, and in millions like her all over the world, a power is rising, a quest to reclaim the ancient powers that the Patriarchy stripped us of centuries ago. To right the balance of millenniums of injustice, I envision a future in which ALL women have three arms, and all men only one. Maybe then, with only one hand to work your mischief with, you G.I. Joes would stop making nuclear weapons and destroying the ozone layer.

Radical men, if you truly want to show us your solidarity, lose a limb. Someday soon, with the Goddess' help, we womyn will start evolving third arms naturally, but until then use some of your ill-gotten male money to buy as many of us as possible prosthetic arms and legs, or, at the very least, a new VCR or lazy Susan. The tides of history are changing at last; join with us or be washed away forever!

Let it come down!
Tara "My Other Car Is a Broom" Limbaugh


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From the November 22, 1999 issue of the Metropolitan.

Copyright © Metro Publishing Inc. Maintained by Boulevards New Media.




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