I haven’t written about the so-called elevator-gate situation, and probably never will.

I feel that all the important things that could be said, have been said (in a sea of shit that probably shouldn’t have been said). I grew bored of the discussion early on – despite the fact that I’m a feminist and ‘picked a side’. It’s not that it’s unimportant, it’s just not my fight/struggle. However, I was disappointed to see such a line in the sand drawn.

Anyway, I still read PZ and Jen (of course), I still read Skepchick, and I still read ERV. Because I read them beforehand. When blogging about non-elevator stories, I find them all just as relevant and interesting as ever.

But when I see any articles about the incident now, I feel like it’s just elevator music… the type you ignore unless someone mentions how bad and boring the music is. I’ve been skipping over them for a while now.

I know there is still plenty of room for growth in the community, but I get it. Women don’t want to be objectified.

Conversely, this song from atheist and anti-folk hero Jeffrey Lewis actually craves a nuanced sort of objectification. I hope you listen to it, as it is really the point of this post. Everyone has their own tastes in music, but I think just about anything is better than elevator music. (In before, ‘this sounds like elevator music to me lol…’)

Jeffrey Lewis – To Be Objectified

Lyrics below the fold…

I left a trail of myself every place that I have been created,
And going bald is the most manly thing that I’m ever gonna do.
I tell the earth, “thanks for the hair, thanks for the skin, thanks for the bone”,
Though I now slowly give it back I still appreciate the loan.
Just tell me that you like me in the same sentence as a mountain side.
‘Cause it would be such a relief to be objectified.

‘Cause who says it’s so important to sort through these thoughts of ours.
Maybe be that’s why we love to try to see ourselves from the outside
In photographs and videos and diaries and mirrors.
‘Cause it would be such a relief to be objectified.

And the closest that I ever got still seems to leave a lot to go,
but the horizon seems to be a place that nobody can know.
Looking forth and looking back, our vision can’t extend
beyond the quaint vanishing points our bodies’ recommend,
and I’ll help you move some furniture somewhere it’s never been before,
but the room’s so small the dresser drawer won’t let us get back out the door.
Just tell me that you like me in the same sentence as the building.
It would be such a relief to say
I’m just a natural thing.

We’re only boats,
And the boats are only empty
And you can’t blame an empty boat that’s on a river to the sea.
You can’t blame a billion boats without a sail, without a sailor.
And that’s how we look in photographs, and diaries, and mirrors.
And the plants turn into ants, and the ants turn into plants,
And children are clumsy people, and old people are rotting Children.
And I still don’t have a cell phone, but this sea shell gets Reception,
And the ocean won’t stop calling, and I want a restraining order.
Just tell me that you like me in the same sentence as a building.
It would be such a relief to see I’m just a natural thing.
We’re just a natural thing.
Just like anything.