Black Lives Matter. White Female Lives Matter. Hispanic Lives Matter. Policemen’s Lives Matter. Russian Lives Matter. Fundamentalist Arab Lives Matter. Osama Bin Laden’s Life Mattered. Gay People’s Lives matter. Seal Team Six’s Lives Matter. White male lives matter. Transgender lives matter. I believe if we expand the “Black Lives Matter” slogan, we should be able to expand it to mean all lives matter.
Osama Bin Laden’s life mattered in terms of existence. Life is wonderful and simply matters because it is life. It’s horrible to take a life. That’s not to say that I wasn’t glad Osama Bid Laden’s life was taken. I was. He would take my life first, given the option, so I would like his life to be taken before mine.
But now I want to reflect on lives that matter to no one. I have never heard anyone say, “Tin Man’s life matters; Scare Grows life matters; Cowardly Lion’s life matters; the flying monkeys’ lives matter, the lives of the munchkins matter. Think about the poor pigs in the sty. Their lives don’t matter, only Dorothy’s life mattered.
Actually, throughout the entire movie, everyone caters to the whining, wimpy Dorothy. It can be argued that only Dorothy’s life matters.
The Scarecrow would not have been asked to play ball, except for Dorothy and a pair of two-inch red rhinestone heels taken from a cereal box by the Wicked Witch of the East or West. I’m not sure which witch removes the fake diamond heels from a cereal box, but who cares. Oh wait, our P. C. society cares, fuck everyone else, but Dorothy’s life matters.
What about the munchkins, the little round donut holes? They greet Dorothy with a parade because she committed negligent homicide. Dorothy is unknown to the munchkins; maybe she should have thrown that house on a load of munchkins.
Even the Lollypop Guild sings for an adolescent girl who just dropped a house on another life. The Lollypop Guild, mole like midgets, sorry, mole like little people, because that makes a height difference, with their rotten little teeth from their sugar intake, the precursors to a union, work for free, singing to an unknown stranger for no pay. That begs for a two knock punch on a wooden head complete with a ” “Hello!”
I say it’s time to call for the non-P.C. Police: Black, White, Chinese, Japanese, Bobbies. After they’re done shooting each other for being lives that don’t matter, the last cop standing, if anyone, can question the perp, Dorothy. Oh, wait, she cries, whines and hangs out at parades. She is a life that matters, and not a white supremacist. She doesn’t need questioned.
Somewhere in this totally non-P.C. classic American book and movie, we realize that the Tin Man, who is heartless and needs lubricant to move, is more like the remnant of a phalloplasty than an actual Tin Man. He’s more like a Tin Penis with his penis head cap and larger than life shaft. He can’t even feel with his head. Tin is surprised about this. Another head knocking “Hello” moment. Tin you made your shaft wider than your head. It could be this is why Tin’s, life doesn’t matter; he is a big dick without a functional head.
Come to think of it, maybe that’s what determines that some lives don’t matter. Can the life contribute to procreation for the existence of the human race? Certainly, the Religious Right would support this definition of lives that don’t matter: out with castrated men, out with gay men or in their terminology queers, impotent men, gone, men with erectile dysfunction, history.
Men who can’t or won’t procreate are lives that don’t matter. The only exception to this rule would be whether the men whose lives don’t matter could handle a gun or rifle and could, if needed, shoot certain people whose lives do matter, including their brothers with procreation issues.
I do not wish to forget the Cowardly Lion. This starts by acknowledging that brave men or women always matter, except if they are actors pretending to be brave. The problem for the Cowardly Lion is he will never be brave. Give him a medal–so what. He says: “Put’em up; put’em up.” He’s supposed to be a lion; he’s king of the jungle; he gazes at the Serengeti from Pride Rock. Lions are legendary. Only Tarzan could rumble with a Lion successfully. The Cowardly Lion can’t even rumble with ToeToe. Cowards are not lives that matter generally.
However, if the Cowardly Lion were “turning his other cheek” or faking cowardice, then I suppose his life could matter. Personally, I believe he goes too far when he dries his tear covered eyes with his tail.
The flying monkeys with bellhop caps attack in gangland style the travelers with Dorothy, the Scarecrow who can be a fire ball in less than five seconds–not a life that matters; Tin the heartless one who is nothing but a chaser of women– not a life that matters, the Cowardly Lion who humiliates all it means to be a lion– not a life that matters and, of course, ToeToe.
They get their asses kicked by the thugs who live in the wicked witches’ castle. In this case, she is just the step mother of deprived youth and the castle is their “hood.” The flying monkeys being deprived youths are lives that definitely matter.
But in the end the whining, crying, wimpy Dorothy saves the day by washing, with a bucket of water, the definition of evil, except that she cares for deprived youth. This is clearly a “life that matters” dilemma. Caring for deprived youth vs. seeing that a few deficient beings and a whining, wimpy girl survive.
Scarecrow is given a brain. I’m not sure whether the lives of mathematicians matter unless they fall into some as yet unidentified class of lives that matter: Maybe Female, Black, Hispanic, Communist Mathematicians.
Cowardly Lion is given a medal. I’ve already discussed my disdain for this.
Tin Man is given a fake heart. The more to break other hearts with.
Are they Dorothy’s friends? The only reason they initially go with Dorothy is because they want something.
Maybe they just want “to matter.” Maybe the entire matter movement exists because people want to matter in life.
Does Dorothy want to matter, or does she matter? She matters at home to where she wishes to return.
I must be lacking some understanding: I always thought people matter because they are. Clearly, I’m wrong because only some people, at any given time and place, matter. I don’t who the lives are that matter. I only know for certain that I can’t figure this Mattering stuff out.