Subject: ROBERTS' RULES: Argument
From: "Shelly Roberts" <[email-masked]>
Date: Tue, 31 Dec 1996 15:31:16 +0000

From:             "Shelly Roberts" <[email-masked]>
To:               [email-masked]
Date sent:        Tue, 31 Dec 1996 15:27:47 +0000
Subject:          ROBERTS' RULES: Argument
Priority:         normal

Editors,

It's the last gasp of this ol' year.  Pat yourselves on the back.  We
done good one more year in a row.

I hope that all of your hopes and none of your fears come true for
1997.  The milennia approaches.  And it's ours.

All the best.

Shelly Roberts.
======================>

ROBERTS' RULES
by Shelly Roberts

WORDS WILL EVER HURT YOU.

 I used to be an adman.  Then I was an ad person.  Now I am a
 consultant.  Not a bad progression for a
 Pampers-girl/Pepsi-generation teen/Charlie-woman/chic lesbian not yet
 ready for citizenship papers in Metamucil-land.
As a writer living through the advertising wars, I learned how to sell
ideas, political candidates, and tubs of frozen, whipped, emulsified
palm kernal oil. (Cool Whip to you.) I learned the importance of words
in making a sale or changing a mind.  They taught me that there's a
huge difference between saying something is the best, which you have
to prove, and saying that "nothing beats" it, which means that it's at
least as good as all the rest, even if just barely. (And, by the way,
"Virtually Spotless" means it has spots.)

Now these are subtle differences to some, but they're very telling
arguments in the larger schemes. 

I'm not going to try to sell you anything here. (Though I'd bet that
in your lifetime, you or someone in your family washed up, had a plate
of, or a cup of, shaved with, or flew on something an ad I created
told you all to use.)  I'm going to try to convince you, instead, to
quit using a argument in our defense. One that we ought to put in a
hermetically sealed container up on a shelf in one of those closets so
many of us have abandoned. 

I thought it was an argument we'd gotten past. Then I went to check my
email for G/L/B/T news, and found a letter to the editor on our
behalf. I think. It reads, in part (parenthetical comments mine): "..
Gays did not choose to be gay any more than these homophobics chose to
be heterosexual. Would any sane person choose to be homosexual,
knowing the consequences?

(Do you think the writer means having a nice house with a pool and hot
tub, right near the beach? A fulfilling career?  A long term
relationship? And two luxury cars? (Isn't it amazing what two fully
employed "single" persons can afford?)) 

"Would they opt to be poster boy for discrimination, spat on by a
homophobic society, beaten or even killed by gaybashers, shunned by
their acquaintances, fired from their jobs, or forced to move?  (These
are not nice things.  Just like being spat on for being Irish, or
killed for being female, or "not from around he-ah." Or being fired
because the old boss liked me better than the new one.) (I won't even
get into mis-matched objects and predicates (they and boy) or gender
parity here.)

 "Hatemongers who abhor gays should thank the Lord for inserting the
 heterosexual gene in their bodies, then remember, `There but for the
 grace of God, go I.'" 

O, my stars, and O, my soul,  NO WONDER we're  afraid to tell our
parents we're gay or lesbian.  NO WONDER they think we lead such sad,
small lives.  With such a dismal portrait of life on the homosexual
side, it's no wonder they go into mourning when they find out. 

You've heard this "who'd-choose-it?" argument  before.  Maybe used it
yourself.   "Who on earth would CHOOSE to be gay?"  is the declaration
of the sentence structure, intending to mean, "Certainly it must be
genetic, therefore they can't help it.So you should stop blaming
them."

Okay, Boys and Girls, gather `round and let me tell you what that
little piece of tangled sophistry is really ad-vocating;  "Homosexuals
are so miserable, worthless, contemptible, despicable and wretched,
that if you "chose" it, then you are clearly certifiable and in need
of professional help. These poor, simple, pathetic bastards, with
their abominable sexual urges, should be pitied for what they are:
Sick.

It's the same old message dressed in sheep's clothing.

To which I say, "Thank you, Sir, for your good intentions. Now kindly
follow your prescribed road to your eternal destination!"  

We don't need friends like these.  Or at least, we don't need our
friends to defend us  by damning us with feint logic. The reality is
that most of us are none of the above.  Oh, some of us, sure, on a
case by case basis,  are some of the above. It's what makes us
interesting.

But so long as we are willing to share the fascinating realities of
our lives (What do lesbians DO together.  Pay the bills. Feed the
kids. Wonder whatever happened to sex. Go to the movies.) we can, and,
daily, do paint a better picture of our lives.  The more we strengthen
the argument that we aren't anything incarnate, except the usual
variety of types and talents and interests, and hobbies and pastimes,
just as "they" are.

So I ask you, when you hear some one "helping" you out with this very
specious argument, stop them in mid breath-catch, and correct them
about how mean and deplorable your little life isn't.  If you're
tempted to use it yourself, don't.

Arguments are intended to help you win.  With this one, you might win
the moment, but you sell them an impression of a lifestyle we don't
wear.  

And we all lose. 

________________________
(C) 1996. Shelly Roberts. All rights reserved.
May be reprinted only in its entirety with written permission.

Shelly Robertsthe author of the #1 best-selling
Roberts' Rules of Lesbian Living. Spinsters Ink. 

ROBERTS' RULES
by Shelly Roberts

WORDS WILL EVER HURT YOU.

 I used to be an adman.  Then I was an ad person.  Now I am a
 consultant.  Not a bad progression for a
 Pampers-girl/Pepsi-generation teen/Charlie-woman/chic lesbian not yet
 ready for citizenship papers in Metamucil-land.
As a writer living through the advertising wars, I learned how to sell
ideas, political candidates, and tubs of frozen, whipped, emulsified
palm kernal oil. (Cool Whip to you.) I learned the importance of words
in making a sale or changing a mind.  They taught me that there's a
huge difference between saying something is the best, which you have
to prove, and saying that "nothing beats" it, which means that it's at
least as good as all the rest, even if just barely. (And, by the way,
"Virtually Spotless" means it has spots.)

Now these are subtle differences to some, but they're very telling
arguments in the larger schemes. 

I'm not going to try to sell you anything here. (Though I'd bet that
in your lifetime, you or someone in your family washed up, had a plate
of, or a cup of, shaved with, or flew on something an ad I created
told you all to use.)  I'm going to try to convince you, instead, to
quit using a argument in our defense. One that we ought to put in a
hermetically sealed container up on a shelf in one of those closets so
many of us have abandoned. 

I thought it was an argument we'd gotten past. Then I went to check my
email for G/L/B/T news, and found a letter to the editor on our
behalf. I think. It reads, in part (parenthetical comments mine): "..
Gays did not choose to be gay any more than these homophobics chose to
be heterosexual. Would any sane person choose to be homosexual,
knowing the consequences?

(Do you think the writer means having a nice house with a pool and hot
tub, right near the beach? A fulfilling career?  A long term
relationship? And two luxury cars? (Isn't it amazing what two fully
employed "single" persons can afford?)) 

"Would they opt to be poster boy for discrimination, spat on by a
homophobic society, beaten or even killed by gaybashers, shunned by
their acquaintances, fired from their jobs, or forced to move?  (These
are not nice things.  Just like being spat on for being Irish, or
killed for being female, or "not from around he-ah." Or being fired
because the old boss liked me better than the new one.) (I won't even
get into mis-matched objects and predicates (they and boy) or gender
parity here.)

 "Hatemongers who abhor gays should thank the Lord for inserting the
 heterosexual gene in their bodies, then remember, `There but for the
 grace of God, go I.'" 

O, my stars, and O, my soul,  NO WONDER we're  afraid to tell our
parents we're gay or lesbian.  NO WONDER they think we lead such sad,
small lives.  With such a dismal portrait of life on the homosexual
side, it's no wonder they go into mourning when they find out. 

You've heard this "who'd-choose-it?" argument  before.  Maybe used it
yourself.   "Who on earth would CHOOSE to be gay?"  is the declaration
of the sentence structure, intending to mean, "Certainly it must be
genetic, therefore they can't help it.So you should stop blaming
them."

Okay, Boys and Girls, gather `round and let me tell you what that
little piece of tangled sophistry is really ad-vocating;  "Homosexuals
are so miserable, worthless, contemptible, despicable and wretched,
that if you "chose" it, then you are clearly certifiable and in need
of professional help. These poor, simple, pathetic bastards, with
their abominable sexual urges, should be pitied for what they are:
Sick.

It's the same old message dressed in sheep's clothing.

To which I say, "Thank you, Sir, for your good intentions. Now kindly
follow your prescribed road to your eternal destination!"  

We don't need friends like these.  Or at least, we don't need our
friends to defend us  by damning us with feint logic. The reality is
that most of us are none of the above.  Oh, some of us, sure, on a
case by case basis,  are some of the above. It's what makes us
interesting.

But so long as we are willing to share the fascinating realities of
our lives (What do lesbians DO together.  Pay the bills. Feed the
kids. Wonder whatever happened to sex. Go to the movies.) we can, and,
daily, do paint a better picture of our lives.  The more we strengthen
the argument that we aren't anything incarnate, except the usual
variety of types and talents and interests, and hobbies and pastimes,
just as "they" are.

So I ask you, when you hear some one "helping" you out with this very
specious argument, stop them in mid breath-catch, and correct them
about how mean and deplorable your little life isn't.  If you're
tempted to use it yourself, don't.

Arguments are intended to help you win.  With this one, you might win
the moment, but you sell them an impression of a lifestyle we don't
wear.  

And we all lose. 

________________________
(C) 1996. Shelly Roberts. All rights reserved.
May be reprinted only in its entirety with written permission.

Shelly Robertsthe author of the #1 best-selling
Roberts' Rules of Lesbian Living. Spinsters Ink.