On the subject of getting old, I’m really rather torn. First hand, every year it becomes more apparent that I’m getting more physically decrepit and one day must die. I’m in complete sympathy with Woody Allen on one point: “I don’t want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve immortality through not dying.”
On the other hand, getting old means I don’t ever again have to be quite this young and stupid:
Man caves perpetuate patriarchy
While I think it’s perfectly acceptable, and even healthy, to have separate spaces where one can enjoy time alone, the gendered language around “man cave” is pretty gross. It takes a passive dig at femininity. It’s as if women are such burden that they’re restricted from that zone, while still expected to readily share all other spaces.
A man cave is essentially an emotional sanctuary for men to escape their responsibilities without the interruption of women or children. It’s as if these men are victimizing themselves and require refuge to revel in their false sense of masculinity.
Please allow me to condescendingly mansplain that last statement for you. You see, as beneficiaries of The Patriarchy, men are by nature of their very chromosomes inherently victimizers – even the ones who try to transcend their natures cannot change this. Therefore, as a inherent part of the power structure it is impossible for a man to be a victim of any other gender, and so if the poor sad thing is feeling a bit put upon he must logically be victimizing himself in some way. But since he’s a man, after all, his pretensions to feelings are unimportant compared to the genuine suffering of his many true victims.
Don’t bother with the link, really – it just goes on like that at greater length.
Thing is, once I would have actually taken the guilt for this. I had a house, which contained a study – it was not a “man cave” – and the colors and textures of the walls, carpet and drapery were beautifully coordinated to make the best use of the cold light from the north-facing windows. It was a very nice, quiet room and I spent a lot of time in there writing – but it was never my room. A perceptive friend once said to me, “Nothing in that house says “Joel.” It’s like you don’t live there.” And I didn’t really, I just slept there and paid all the bills.
The inside of the Secret Lair, god help you, is like a trip through my brain. It needs dusting and maybe I ought to finish the woodwork at some point, but it’s mine.
But I think that sometimes that can be nice, too. And if it’s ever invaded by a giant subterranean worm, well…I guess then I’ll wish Reba McEntire were around to have my back while I load the elephant gun.
But till then, I’m good without some college chicklet trying to explain man stuff to me. And if she doesn’t like my place – and she wouldn’t – she’s very welcome to keep away from my oppressive self and I’ll be happy to do the same.
Some people are simply determined to be victimized by everything. I have further ill-formed thoughts which are not polite.
I never figured I owed much of an explanation or justification to anyone for the way I live. This has not made me popular, of course, but the professional victims who are insulted by that can kiss my a**.
As I said a long time ago:
But, in the end, I live and therefore I am. I don’t need any other person’s permission to live or defend myself. I don’t need anyone’s vetting of my intentions or sanity, nor approval for the self defense tool I choose or how I carry it.
I don’t NEED to explain myself. I don’t NEED any reasons at all.
1)”I don’t ever again have to be quite this young and stupid:” I’ve had the opportunity to watch a few people age recently, including myself. Beyond our middle years, brain function unfortunately doesn’t improve with age. In fact, just the opposite. I’m afraid that “old and stupid” is just as common as “young and stupid”. That’s why old folks are such easy marks for scams.
2) Speaking of gender-specific spaces, I think sewing rooms were common centuries before man caves. And don’t tell me that women used them just for sewing.
3) Is that really a spear I see in the corner? Do you have that lethal weapon registered?
Ok, I’m stumped. Where is that buckler from? Is it based on a game, or a fantasy novel, or what?
a: Yes, technically that’s a spear. I acquired the spear head, which is made to fasten securely to a paint roller pole, this past Spring from stuff Former Neighbor J was throwing away. I figured I’d try it on the next rattlesnake that comes into the yard, which is not a yearly occurrence because they don’t seem to like dogs any more than dogs like them. It would give me a little more reach than a shovel, which in turn is a much better antisnake weapon than a pistol. So far I have neglected to have it registered.
b: I don’t know if the buckler has any reference at all. It was sent a few years ago by a generous reader, and I thought it went rather well with the big knife.
It (the buckler) looks like something Link (from Legend of Zelda) would carry, but as I don’t play that game, I can’t really say. Ah well, twas just idle curiosity. It looked a bit uncharacteristic:-).
RE: the rant by the little special snowflake…
Even if any of that crap is remotely true, I’d have the same response: “Don’t let the door hit ya . . . etc”
Geeze.
RE: the rant from the little special snowflake . . .
Even if some of that were slightly true, I’d have the same response: “Don’t let the door hit ya . . . etc.”
Geeze.
Guess I was doubly serious.
😉
I have found one of the biggest reasons for a successful marriage (38 yeas next May) is having a place to go when one wants a little alone time. My wife and I both have our “caves” and I think without them we would be at each other throats. Unlike the university kids the author writes about my cave is clean, orderly and all me right down to a Red Ryder BB gun on the wall along side a pirate flag.
The article means nothing for the simple fact that the author of this crap appears to have no real life experience. The Golden Gate Xpress, which is the San Francisco State University student newspaper, is in granola country; the land of fruits, nuts and flakes.
I don’t have a man cave. I do have an armory and a shed.
” I’d wish Reba McEntire to have my back while I load the elephant gun…” Great movie about ordinary people in a difficult situation–sure, the creatures get a few, but the people, for the most part , DON’T act like idiots and prevail in the end, using the resources and smarts available to them. ” Can you Fly, motherf#@&ker?!!” Oh, and keep away from SJWs, they’re deadlier than graboids.
I just slept there and paid all the bills.
I think you just described the majority of America’s males.
RE: Woody Allen & death: IIRC, he also said something to the effect that he didn’t mind death, he just didn’t want to be involved when it happened.
Serious question: in the pic, behind the stove is what looks like ceramic panels over the Lair’s wooden walls. Is there anything special about that ceramic stuff, like air space or insulation between it and the wood? How well does whatever it is protect the wood? I’m werstling with a similar design/build issue on a wood stove for the bunker here.
Nosmo: Think fire-rated drywall. It’s cheap and at your local big box home improvement store
.
Yeah, I used Hardie-Backer behind the tiles instead of the wood siding. That siding catches fire really easy, makes great tinder. So other than the studs there’s no wood behind the tile at all.
My guess is the writer never heard of this growing trend of “she shacks” ? What do they say about woman when they have the whole house to decorate and express thier inner femininity, yet they have these chic monstrosities as a homage to thier status and ego.
https://www.google.ca/search?q=she+shacks&espv=2&biw=1280&bih=637&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwi48-L96rDJAhWIpR4KHS44AxIQsAQIGw
No I still can not spell……
I’ve got two man caves; One, my den, is Youngest Spawn’s old bedroom, rebuilt with warm wood and soothing paint, fly tying bench and guns and other fun stuff. The other is my garage, which has a large “Man Cave” sign that the Baroness helps enforce. Neighbor’s wife was quite annoyed to be asked, politely, to get the f**k out of my garage, as the sign reads “Man”, not “Woman”.