Fems Rule: Check out the 4th Carnival of Feminists, and my objectification problem

There's a regular event in blogland of utmost importance to feminists, I mean, everyone. It's called "The Carnival of Feminists," and it's more fabulous than Brad Pitt with a bottle of Dom Perignon begging you to fly to Paris with him, his raging hard-on terribly obvious inside his snug jeans -- it's a selection of great feminist posts chosen by a different feminist blogger every time. Check out the Fourth Carnival of Feminists at the Happy Feminist. Lots of lovely goodies to read. Do it NOW. OK, do it whenever. But do it. It beats reading another fucking guy, and I don't feel like excepting myself, even if I'm a feminist-in-training.

I'd like to call myself a full-on feminist, but the problem is I still love to objectify women, since I suspect this terrible sin may be necessary for me to get my patriarchal dick hard, and there are women out there, including feminists, who prefer a hard dick to a soft joystick. But then, I would like women to objectify men, too, so it's a reciprocal thing -- feel free, woman, to objectify me, so I can feel better about objectifying you. Not that this lets me off the hook. In fact, I'd better shut the fuck up before I get my gonads deservedly trampled under a fetishized stiletto. Still, this objectifying thing bugs me. Heck, I know it depersonalizes a woman and all, but it's sooo sexy.