I like to refer to movies a lot in my blogs which is something you already know if you are a regular follower. If you aren’t a regular then what’s the matter with you? Unless of course you are new in which case you are forgiven.
Anyhoo, today’s selection is RoboCop. When I was an undergraduate at Georgetown University I had a hip English teacher for whose class we read Shelley’s Frankenstein and then watched the movie Robocop, because both stories were about “monsters” who were created, let’s say, unnaturally. In each case the monster is fearsome and powerful. If you have not seen RoboCop you should rent it unless violence upsets you because there are some rather unsavoury scenes, for instance when one of the bad guys falls into a vat of toxic waste and then is hit by a car and basically disintegrates. Yeah, I know. Cool. And so ’80s. And it is set in Detroit “in the near future,” which is overrun by crime and financial ruin. I know… it was a stretch.
Because many believe that the human police force is inadequate to stem the tide of crime in Detroit, the city enters into a deal with a corporation (Omni Consumer Products) to take over the police force. RoboCop is created after a police officer (Alex Murphy) is brutally murdered by a gang of vicious thugs (you have to use the words brutally and vicious in close proximity if you want to be really cliché) during a bust gone bad. Murphy is a hot mess when he arrives at the hospital — plus he is pronounced dead, which always sucks — but instead of planning the funeral, the corporate hoo-hahs from Omni decide to salvage some of his human body and make the rest of him machine. And so Murphy becomes their first cyborg cop. The result is, as Randall would say, really pretty badass. If you do not know who Randall is then you clearly need to get spend more time forwarding mindless email chains and watching YouTube.
So, back to the story: RoboCop (f/k/a Officer Murphy) is a force to be reckoned with, kind of like the “good” Terminator but with some real human bits. And what does he do? Of course he goes out and gets justice by killing the hell out of the gang and eventually the senior president of Omni. It’s okay though because the senior prezzy turns out to be up to his eyeballs in organised crime himself so he really needs to die at the end.
RoboCop is an exceptionally effective and lethal law enforcement officer yet his human parts prevent him from being an unthinking killing machine. Unfortunately, he is also a freak of nature and suffers from loneliness, confusion and displacement and all the things that poor Frankenstein’s monster confronts when he ventures out into the big bad world after being given life.
Where the fuckety-fuck is she going with all this? You might ask. Well, I am definitely more woman than machine at this point but I have been thinking about my upcoming bosom exchange and a number of things have come to mind.
Even though I walk amongst people all day long who do not know that I am part manmade I sometimes feel isolated and displaced by it. It’s odd, but I do. Today, for instance, I was at the gym jogging and I wondered if anyone noticed that my rack is not bouncing up and down like everyone else’s. It ain’t going nowhere, in fact. On the upside it makes for a mighty efficient jog and long gone are the days of shopping for the perfect supportive yet attractive jog bra that doesn’t cut off my circulation.
Being different and being a member of this club can feel lonely, too. I know that there are plenty of other bionic women out there but most women (especially women my age) are not like me and they just amble on down the street, boing boing boing. Sometimes it feels weird. And sometimes, looking at myself in the mirror, I do feel a little bit like a freak of nature.
Whatever. That’s really kind of a stretch as a comparison. I know. The main reason I wrote about RoboCop is that I just felt like it. So why not. My hidden agenda is that I like to imagine being sort of a Jaime Sommers “lite.” Just the tits are bionic. But they wield enormous power. A creative surgeon could team up with an engineer and equip me with a full arsenal. Just a flick of my right peck and I release a poison dart right into your neck. Or I could have retractable gun barrels that would fire bullets or release poisonous gas. Just think of the possibilities. Me and my tits could flit around large metropolises (that plural looks a bit dodgy I may have made up a word) fighting crime single-handedly, or rather, double-breastedly.
What’s that? I have gone off the deep end of silliness? Well that may be true. But what the hell good is this blog if I can’t have a little fun. And you need a good dose of the ridiculous because soon I plan to do a post on how to get yourself through chemotherapy while still (sort of) enjoying life. That ought to be a real knee-slapper.