Reproductive Receptacles

We must be watchful of any attempts to reorder God’s gender assignments—religious or otherwise. Take the secular painting of “Washington Crossing the Delaware,” by Emanuel Gottlieb Leutze depicting the heroism of one of America’s founding fathers. If a corporation wants to update this painting with heroic U.S. troops, led by a modern day George, as an ad for Johnson & Johnson gauze bandages, that’s okay. But substitute gals in Donna Karan dresses and six-inch heels for those heroic revolutionaries? Never. 

Take the heroic and manly painting “Cavalryman’s Breakfast on the Plains” by Frederic Remington. If companies want to use this painting to promote, say, beef or beans or Campbell’s soup, it’s fine with us. But substitute gals in this painting and what are we saying? That gals can actually sit astride horses and protect citizens? That it’s okay for groups of gals to be hanging out on the Great Plains, carrying GUNS, with no men in charge of their crotch areas, not to mention their internal organs? No. The Pope is turning over in His grave. 

There are any number of paintings that advertisers could use to display gals in the proper manner, as determined by our beloved Pope, may He rest in one piece. Take “Guernica” by Pablo Picasso. This painting (retouched), with gals in designer outfits and three inch heels all screaming in pain from, say, acid reflex, could promote proper galness and sell large quantities of Prevacid. Andrew Wyeth’s bleak “Christina’s World” could advertise Remax or bras—“She dreamed of the perfect home in her Maidenform bra.” Degas’s “Frieze of Dancers,” with ballerinas all bending over to fiddle with their slippers, could promote Dr. Scholl’s products very nicely. 

Jan Vermeer’s “The Milkmaid” could join the “Got Milk” campaign. Sandro Botticelli’s “Venus” on the half shell, with her left hand grabbing her crotch, could be advertising Monistat 7, as she appears to be itching that special area. Or she could be promoting the “New Diamond Right Hand Ring.” You must have seen the ad, the one that reads, “Your left hand says ‘we.’ Your right hand says “me.’ Your left hand loves candlelight. Your right hand loves the spotlight. Your left hand rocks the cradle. Your right hand rules the world. Women of the world, raise your right hand. A diamond is forever.” (Wow, are they using feminism to sell monogamous, reproductive receptacleness?)

Modigliani’s “Nude From the Back” could be an ad for Preparation H. Or for cosmetic breast implant surgery. Is she afraid to show her too small breasts, we wonder? Such an ad would be timely, as an advisory board is currently looking into whether to recommend that the FDA remove the ban on silicone gel implants (some have testified that these implants are toxic, a suicide risk, cause extreme fatigue, and silicone oozing from their scars; 264,000 gals received cosmetic implant procedures in 2004, using other implant products. By the way, the Pope should reclaim the right to make all decisions regarding gals’ breasts, as they affect/enhance gals receptaclivity. 

Most appropriate is Edouard Manet’s “The Picnic,” which depicts fully clothed males picnicking in the woods with a nude female; surely, the meaning is clear. She is as a piece of fruit, a breast of chicken, a glass of wine, a pitcher of water; she is an ad for Oscar Mayer weiners. 

So it’s fine for advertisers to use art, music, or whatever to promote their products, but stick to the Papal/God approved depictions, please: gals can be decorative receptacles—naked (or slightly draped); they can be reclining, dreaming, reaching, napping, staring, or (preferably) semi-comatose. Any activities should be domestic. Also permissible are depictions of gals as equivalent to fruit, flowers, and furry animals. Dancing is permitted with a man who leads or with a group of naked gals—because paintings are for men to look at and enjoy. Depictions of gals being ravaged by men or mythical figures are permissible as long as the gal does not resist and no birth control is used/advertised in the process. 

Which brings us back to the Pope, God’s earthly CEO, not to mention chief gynecologist in the hospital of life. How can we help gals give their reproductive lives to Il Papa (or any of God’s other gynecological conduits)? We were at a loss until we saw an article in the NYT , March 6, 2005 about “Iraq Culture Smart Cards.” It seems that, as the U.S. “struggles against the insurgency in Iraq, it is also battling for the hearts and minds of ordinary Iraqis…. That’s a tough assignment for soldiers who…must also avoid antagonizing the people they are trying to help…. ” (Isn't this touching? Note that killing/invading are not considered antagonistic—and we concur.) 

“To that end, the Marine Corps Intelligence Activity (MCIA), a branch of the Marines’ intelligence service, has over the past two years distributed thousands of “Iraq Culture Smart Cards” to American servicemen in Iraq. ‘They are meant for the 19- or 20-year-old soldier moving door to door in a hostile environment’.” 

The card is a laminated, fold-up guide to the country’s geography, history, etc. MCIA has created similar cards for Afghanistan and is considering cards for other nations. These cards teach all about the Iraq culture and help the troops observe their patriarchy as laid down by their particular God. Among the items in the cards are: “Respond to a woman’s greeting only when she initiates the contact. Allow her to shake hands using only her fingertips.” And “don’t show women attention by addressing, touching, or staring at them. Don’t ask direct questions of female relatives.” 

Wow, what an idea. We are designing Papal Smart Cards, as we speak. They should help counteract these lesbie-type “Last Supper” ads. Troops of civilian soldiers, as it were, would go door to door with these cards, to win back control of gals with advice like: “Make sure she knows nothing about sex, birth control, and the entire reproductive process.” “Don’t ask questions of her, or address her directly, but inform her through the nearest male relative all about the reproductive receptacle she was born to be.”