Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
So you want to be a Prairie Muffin . . .
Modern world got you down? Tired of having to shelter your daughters from media images of harlots like Hillary Clinton, or unfeminine hippy rebels like Cindy Sheehan? Thinking how nice it would be go back in time to the early 1800s, a time before abortion, birth control, and pornography were the scourge of a good, decent, Godfearing woman like yourself?
Not to fear, milady. Submit to the will of a manly Godfearing man NOW. Become a Prairie Muffin.
What’s a Prairie Muffin? You’ll be hard pressed to find a definition on their website, so let me help you out. Here’s a crash course in becoming a Praying Muff. Um, Prairie Muffin.
Step 1. Do not lose your sense of humor.
On the Muffin site, you’ll find nuggets like this:
Note: It was decided in a hotly-contested election, that the husbands of Prairie Muffins would henceforth be known as “Prairie Dawgs.” An official Prairie Dawg greeting was also proposed. Single women aspiring to be Prairie Muffins will be known as “Muffin Mixes” and young children of Prairie Muffins are “Mini Muffins.”
Thus, lesson one is, you are not a woman. You’re not even a Prairie Muffin yet. You, my dear, are a muffin mix, eagerly awaiting a man to leaven your fertile, ah, flour and sugar mixture.
Step 2. Study and commit to heart the Prairie Muffin Manifesto.
Since the Manifesto has 39 steps, I’ll simplify it for you. Here are some of the bitter pills, erm, blessings of the Lord you’ll have to swallow.
In case you were wondering about your proper place in your all new Muffin-friendly home,
11) Prairie Muffins own aprons and they know how to use them.
Just so you know it’s not all about tater tot casseroles and Scrambled Egg Surprise,
9) Prairie Muffins do not reflect badly on their husbands by neglecting their appearance; they work with the clay God has given, molding it into an attractive package for the pleasure of their husbands.
You need never trouble your head again with unpleasant thoughts:
18) Prairie Muffins are fiercely submissive to God and to their husbands.
“You will be my master, hubs, or I’ll beat you to a bloody pulp!”
Now that you have your priorities straight,
Step 3. Get ready to spread your legs and keep ’em spread.
From the Manifesto,
3) Prairie Muffins are aware that God is in control of their ability to conceive and bear children, and they are content to allow Him to bless them as He chooses in this area.
Translation: get used to this . . .
cuz families of 10 to 15 children or more are not unusual. This, by the way, is a core Muffin belief: God meant you to have as many children as your womb can possibly bear.
Hope you like morning sickness. Here’s some Muffin reassurance for you from QuiverFull contributor Elizabeth, “mother of ten”:
“Yes, my children all know that I highly prize each one of them, and they know that I would welcome as many more as God would choose to give me. I am also honest enough to tell them that I have never been too crazy about being pregnant. However, I sure am crazy about those sweet little babies when they finally arrive.”
Yup, she sure is.
I’ll save the shining star of the Prairie Muffin movement, the Duggar Family — fourteen children, one more on the way — for some other day. For now, you had better . . .
Step 4: Get used to the world’s fugliest dresses.
Nuff said. Finally,
Step 5: Never take your eyes off the prize.
Back to El Manifesto:
2) Prairie Muffins are helpmeets to their husbands, seeking creative and practical ways to further their husbands’ callings and aid them in their dominion responsibilities.
‘Dominion’ is a code word for Dominionism. Read what Wikipedia has to say about Dominionism, or be content with my nutshell definition:
Reactionary evangelical Christian philosophy that encourages adherents to impose their moral code on the rest of us.
You know, like Alberto Gonzalez going after pornographers. That sort of thing.
Yes, I know I’ve been ignoring the guys out there. I don’t know about you, but this Muffin movement creeps me out. Maybe some guys like their women all covered in flour from 9 to 5 and screaming for fertilization from 6 to 8, practicing their sperm-retaining yoga a la Julianne Moore in The Big Lebowski, quilting and crafting and diapering and shit, but as for me, I like a woman with teeth.
Tomorrow:
D.
Thanks for the link! Very informative. And yes, creepy. Although I do like to cook…
Thanks, fish monkey. I like to cook too, and I do tend to submit myself to my wife’s will. Perhaps I have more in common with the Muffins than I’m willing to admit ;o)
Yes, but are you molding God-given clay?
Fishmonkey is otherwise known as kathy, from Tangent online.
Doug, my blood pressure can’t handle this kinda shit, man. I know I shouldn’t give a ratsass about what some sadly (but clearly) retarded people choose to believe is the proper role for women, but godDAMN does this ever make me apeshit crazy mad.
PS: Doesn’t the dress in Part 4 directly contradict the manifesto point #9?
Oh, hi, Kathy! So that’s who you are, you li’l fish monkey you.
Beth, why do you think I’m bloggin’ on this? Karen got me going on it yesterday and I told her, “If you don’t blog on this, I have to.” There’s so much damned material here I don’t know where to start.
Ah, here we go. Just because you’re a good helpmeet to your husband doesn’t mean you can’t take a dip in the local swimming hole. And won’t the menfolk be jealous of your husband when they see you in one of these sexaay bathing suits?
Damn it, Kathy, you gave me a straight line and I didn’t even use it.
Yes, but are you molding God-given clay?
I am. But we men call it wood.
Anyone know where I can get a swimming burka? We’re godless heathens looking to live the Muffin way…
My favorite item on the manifesto:
19) Prairie Muffins appreciate godly role models, such as Anne Bradstreet, Elizabeth Prentiss and Elisabeth Elliot. They do not idolize Laura Ingalls Wilder (Little House on the Prairie) or Louisa May Alcott (Little Women); while they may enjoy aspects of home life presented in their books, PMs understand that the latent humanism and feminism in these stories and in the lives of these women is not worthy of emulation.
So that’s what my problem is: I was warped in my youth by those subversive 3-named authoresses.
Ugh. Where can I get me one of them Granny Clampett swimsuits?
What was the name of that movement a few years ago where men were supposed to seize back their manliness by regaining their place as head of household?
And why do you Americans keep coming up with this shit?
oh dear.
What does it say about me that I got nauseous after reading three lines in the Prairie Muffin site?
And there are real, live people on the other side, too! Scary stuff.
[Hi, by the way. Found you following link trails from Selah March’s blog – thank you for the entertaining posts.]
Oh.
Wow.
Question about dressing in a gender-appropriate manner: if their men want to dress in a masculine manner, and they decide to pick the era circa late 18th-century England, does that mean the dudes get to prance around in high heels, satin breeches, lace shirts and pancake make-up?
And what if the husband decides that modest and appropriate feminine dress should be modeled on Polynesian norms in the nineteenth century, which would include toplessness?
I just love it when these people talk about gender norms as if they’re fixed and eternal platonic ideals, instead of lifting some of the gender politics and most of the dress code from the late Victorian England era.
Lilith: burka? They don’t hold truck with no Allah, m’dear!
Darla: yeah, that tickled me too. Little Laura, that heathen child. Dad shouldn’t have spared the rod on that backside.
Maureen: that’s what makes America great. We tolerate freaks. If we didn’t, I’d have nothing to write about.
azteclady: welcome!
Candy: delve deeper (or don’t — I wouldn’t inflict that kind of torment on a friend) and you’ll discover that the menfolk get to dress and carry on like normal American males, since they’re expected to go out into the world on a daily basis. It’s the wives (and their daughters — erm, micromuffins, or whatever the hell) who are sheltered.
And guess what most of those daughters aspire to be when they grow up?
The horror . . .
damn damn damn.
I’m going back to bed.
I like your bambi meets godzilla screenplay over at Beth’s place. That cheered me up.
Bambi vs. Godzilla screenplay — WTF?
Am I writing stuff and forgetting about it, or are you referring to my “Barb the Antimuffin” comic book series?
I’d be very interested to read the ‘Prairie Dawgs’ manifesto.
I have no real objections to women choosing to stay at home and provide for their families (heck it’s what I chose to do, and, happily, finances allowed this), what disturbs me the most is the overall passivity, the abrogation of responsibility of their lives (and their children’s) to a higher authority–any and all higher authorities. Which, by commission, concedes that PMs have none.
Every item in the manifesto reiterates graceful acceptance of circumstances. In fact it seems the only decision a woman is responsible for is whether or not to become a Prairie Muffin, (and I worry if this is the case. I fear that decision is also given over to a ‘higher authority’).
I wonder what happens to PMs on judgement day, (I presume they believe in JD). Do they show up to account for their lives, or is that responsiblity delegated to their husband/head?
X
yup, the barbi mets the muffin. that’s the one.
Hey, there IS a cartoon called Bambi meets Godzilla. Have you ever seen it? 2 minutes of opening credits while Bambi eats flowers and grass in a clearing. 4 Seconds of Godzilla’s foot coming down and squashing said Bambi. 4 minutes of end credits scroll by as said foot remains in place.
On the muffin thing. WTF are they thinking?!?!?! And HOW is it that women wearing those clothes get pregnant in the first place?
Every time I look at that site I feel ill. I showed it to the DH and a friend and they both felt nauseous from laughing- and from giving me queer sidelong looks like, “Why are you showing me this?”
I had to drink a half-bottle of pinot before they considered me sane again.
Yeah, F O’Brien that was a cultural allusion on my part…I thought EVERYONE had seen Bambi Vs. Godzilla. Always played right before Harold and Maude…at the midnight shows and oh god. I’m showing my age.
[…] Don’t get me wrong. I had a great day editing and writing, but now I’m spent. My one inspiration was, “Gee, it’s been a long time since I’ve done a sex post,” but then I got discouraged because I couldn’t find a web page discussing Prairie Muffin bedroom habits, and before long I ended up at one of the online skin sites. Again. […]
[…] So you want to be a Prairie Muffin . . . An intensive study of the Muffin Manifesto. Banned Books Week: the Muffin POV. And you thought book burnings were a bad thing? […]
[…] With all due respect to Catholic priests, no sex for 17 DAYS is pathological, let alone 17 years. Meanwhile, over at Digby’s blog, Digby and Tristero point out that the Quiverfull crowd aren’t just quaint patriarchs spreading their seed willy-nilly to fugly dress-wearing Prairie Muffins. They want good white Christian folk to breed like rabbits precisely to keep good white Christian folk in the majority. Here’s Digby: Plenty of young people want to come to America and would be more than happy to pay into social security to support all of us old codgers. They just aren’t the “right kind” of people, if you know what I mean. So get to breeding, white bitches. You’ve got work to do. […]