Tough Love Week -- Native Americans

I'm feeling really sick today but I wanted to try something that I call Tough Love week, where each day I broach a topic that affects me personally that I may have been avoiding a little bit, as to not piss off people close to me (or in my vicinity). Or at least that's the idea. But, hell, it's Tuesday so technically I've already missed the first day of Tough Love Week so who knows where I'll end up with this thing!

This wasn't the topic I was going to start off Tough Love Week with but it seems the best choice for the situation I'm in, since I'm not really in the mood to sugar-coat anything, especially something I feel is a topic that shouldn't even remotely be a fucking thing anymore (or technically ever). 

So, let's hit it, shall we?

Why in the fucking hell do we still think it's okay to be completely and totally aggressively racist to Native Americans? And how is it that we refuse to even acknowledge the very real truth of this statement?

I mean, The Washington Redskins (fuck you, very much) are literally going to the Supreme Court to argue that their fucking team's identity is apparently more important than an entire people's identity. And, honestly, I can't even fucking wrap my head around the goddamn idea of this. Which is why I'm swearing even more than normal.

What in the actual fuck is wrong with people? How do you honestly think that your sports team means more than real human beings? Seriously, like I want an answer to come from the wind or something. I want someone somewhere to actually answer me right now and have that answer be carried through fucking magic or something and be spoken aloud to me as I sit here typing. Because that's how fucking messed up this whole situation is -- it makes one fucking insane. 

And here is where this topic hits close to home for me. I grew up in Cleveland, Ohio. Land where this used to be a thing:

Yeah, there he is all huge and shit. Just staring you in the face with his cherry-red skin, huge-ass grin and other lovely accouterments. Do you know how many people I've heard wax fucking poetic about this violently racist image? And the thing is, we know perfectly well that you don't need a goddamn emblem to identify with your home team. We identify with the Browns pretty fucking amazingly and they have no "logo", no cheerleaders, no identifying marks on their helmets and hardly any fucking wins. Yet, we're still so vehemently loyal to that team that when Art fucking Modell tried to move them to stinking Baltimore, we sued his piece of shit ass and told him that he could take his fucking players anywhere he wanted but that team and everything that goes with it wasn't his to move. 

But, for real, I have heard so many goddamn people talk about Chief Wahoo like he's a real goddamn person. Like his ethereal existence is more fucking important than every single one of the people that he has been tearing down with that toothy motherfucking grin of his. 

You know what? Here's some real talk for anyone who is still sore about Wahoo being removed from the Indians roster of identifying characters:

You are an asshole. Chief Wahoo doesn't exist. He's not real. I don't care how much he's meant to your existence and childhood. He's fucking racist and he should have never, ever existed in the first place. Saying that he means something to you is like saying that Ronald McDonald is a buddy and that if he ever goes away, you'll fucking cry yourself to sleep at night...IF clowns were a race of people and Ronald McDonald was a fucking offensive example of their people and culture. But it's not and he's not, so crying over the McDonald's mascot would actually be less embarrassing and stomach-turning. 

And that's just Chief Wahoo. That's nothing to say of the fact that the team is still called the Cleveland Indians. It's still named after a fucking race of people. AND it still keeps the term "Indian" in our vernacular when that, in and of itself, is fucking racist.

I mean, for real, could we all fucking stop pretending that Columbus was awesome? I'm not trying to say that he was a moron. I didn't know him so I have no idea. But he did mess up his little boat trip. And he did still claim to discover a land that already had fucking people there. And he fucking renamed those people that didn't actually need new names AND he renamed them the laziest fucking name he could, probably to make himself feel better over the fact that he didn't end up where he intended. 

And we celebrate him.

Just that alone should be enough info to let go of the moniker that he established and pay just the tiniest bit of respect to both Native Americans and actual Indian people. Let alone, I dunno, maybe getting rid of stupid-ass Columbus Day. And for anyone seriously bummed at losing a federal holiday, we can easily just make Veteran's Day a federal holiday. It's only a month away from Columbus Day and, I don't know, I kind of think our vets deserve a national holiday more than some lazy-ass racist who has marked our country in such an embarrassing and indelible way. 

And then there's our country's other BIG thing. And I know that a whole shit ton of people are going to get so fucking mad here. People I know. People I don't know. People who have never even heard of me will feel my words brush against their cheeks and automatically hate my very essence. 

Let's talk about Thanksgiving.

And please know that this one is hard for me, too. I fucking love turkey and mashed potatoes. And no one makes homemade mashed potatoes like I do. They're seriously incredible and I've had people write sonnets about them. I also, for a long time, really liked that because Thanksgiving was national and non-religious that you didn't have to hear people bitch and moan about it taking the "Christ" out of it or being pissed that someone else's religion that takes place during the same period of time as a Christian one was somehow infringing on territory that doesn't belong to anyone in particular. But whatever, that's a different blog to piss off different people. 

But, I digress. Delicious food aside, how can we not understand how fucked up it is to celebrate Thanksgiving? And I've heard more than once the fucking awesome reasoning that we celebrate all of the things that we're thankful for at Thanksgiving and therefore the holiday is awesome. But you know what? That's fucking bullshit. And here is why:

1. That's a total fucking excuse. You don't need a holiday to be thankful. But if you want one, that's valid. The thing is, we have to move it, we have to rebrand it AND we have to take the whole first fucking thanksgiving out of it because that's where the disgusting problems come about. 

2. We have done everything in our power to turn this holiday into a pre-Christmas retail nightmare instead of a legitimate holiday. It's become more and more about gearing up for Black Friday and fucking sales for Christmas than anything else. Like most everything in this country, it's become all about money and things and stuff and possessions. So, tell me again, what it is exactly that we're trying to preserve? 

3. And finally, celebrating gratitude by highlighting one of our most shameful periods in history is, well, inexcusable. It's contemptible and quite frankly, villainous. We slaughtered a people. We fucking slaughtered a people, people. And for anyone who says that you weren't there so it wasn't you...by owning and celebrating the holiday of Thanksgiving, you are taking on the actions of the pilgrims and identifying with them as Americans instead of the people already here. Therefore, you have taken these actions and spread them on yourself like the blood of the people they for very real killed. And they didn't just kill them. They took their hospitality. They pretended to broker a peace. They let themselves be saved and then they turned around and they slaughtered their saviors. And now, we celebrate this. We teach our children about the first Thanksgiving and how beautiful it was without immediately telling them how we destroyed that beauty. How we fucking pissed into the eye-sockets of the people that wouldn't let us die when they could have. 

There are so many things that we've done in this country that we've only half-assed an apology for: slavery, internment camps, keeping civil rights from anyone without a white fucking penis, the list goes on and on. But we've never even shit out an apology to Native Americans. Not really. We expect them to be happy on their reservations, like they have the very first American timeshares. We feel like our gracious act of allowing them to have casinos to somehow find a way to support themselves and not die the fuck out is like the most magnanimous fucking thing that's ever been done throughout all of history. We constantly talk about how they're alcoholics and smoke the peyote and basically talk about them like their subhuman. And we've continued to fucking steal their land for whatever we want. For fuck's sake, Mount Rushmore is on Native American land. Land they consider sacred. And we took it and then we defaced the nature of it. And we revere it like the faces fucking etched themselves onto that granite like the face of Jesus on a piece of toast or in the visage of an oil slick on the road. And yeah, that was a pretty cool thing to be able to craft but maybe, just maybe, we could've crafted it somewhere that belonged to us. I mean, fuck, why not just go into Canada and deface some of their shit. "But I defaced it with an American President's face! So, that makes it okay!" But we'd never do that. Cause we think of Canada as a white country and we don't do shit to white people. And if you need references, here are a few (some already listed): slavery, Thanksgiving, internment camps, Manifest Destiny, the fact that we sent back boats of Jews to Hitler before he started gassing people, civil rights, lynchings, Guantanamo...I'm just gonna stop there. And I'm sure there are a lot of people that don't feel this list means anything. They'll feel like this doesn't show any kind of trend to our behavior. And I get it -- cause it's hard to see reality clearly when your head is firmly planted in the sand. 

But, the thing is, this IS reality. This is the legacy of the white man in America. Scroll up and get a good look at Chief Wahoo again. Stare at him. Let him sink into your brain. Set a timer. Look at it for five straight minutes. Keep repeating in your head "REDSKINS, REDSKINS, REDSKINS". Then picture yourself face to face with a Native America, something many people have probably never done. Picture yourself face to face with a Native American and then picture yourself calling him or her a "redskin". Can you picture it? Can you really picture it? Think of how upset people get when they hear the term "hillbilly" or "white trash" and now call him a "redskin" again. And now put Chief Wahoo's face on top of his or hers. 

Are you really still okay with this? Is this really something you think is acceptable? Do you really think that turning a race of people into a caricature, minimizing their existence into simply being your pastime's mascot and then hanging this depiction from banners, putting it on t-shirts and ball caps and chanting it over and over again (Tomahawk Chop) is anything other than contemptuous and reprehensible? 

And if your answer is yes, I honestly only have one piece of advice for you. This is a piece of advice that I haven't given anyone in a really long time. It's not my nature and I, myself, haven't been able to wrap my head fully around the concept in a long while. But here it is, all the same. If your answer is yes to any or all of these questions, you need to sit your ass down and pray. You need to fucking close your eyes and turn your attention to someone or something else that might help you find your way. Because you can't manage it on your own. You've failed at being able to muster the most basic compassion without some God or Savior or Prophet telling you to. So, pray. Close your eyes and pray that someone or something will help you heal the soul inside of you. 

You are not everything. 

You are not most important.

You are not the way.

You're just another speed bump on our road to recovery, trying to fuck up the people actually wanting to make the world a better place. And those people exist, you know. People wanting to make the world better, we exist. You can't shut us up with your rhetoric and you can't keep our voices out with your wall. Nothing you do will stop us from continuing to try. And that's why, no matter what you do, we will always win. Our existence is our gold medal, the winners platform has room for us all and that National Anthem playing in the background isn't just yours. It's time we make America truly great, for the first time in history.

Faux Paso Doble (it's clever if you know ballroom dancing)

Hey, remember back in 2009 when a reporter from Wonderland magazine asked Megan Fox to talk about director Michael Bay and after dabbling in a few Napoleon insults, she instead compared the director to Hitler? Remember when the world collectively told her to shut the fuck up and have some goddamn decency and then she wasn't asked back to the Transformers franchise and we all began to slowly but surely not give a rat's ass about her? 

Yeah, well, apparently Dancing with the Stars' Cheryl Burke was off somewhere fucking around when all of that went down. Because some-fucking-how we've got another thoughtless, disrespectful and intolerable celebrity making the same kind of paralyzingly asinine remarks.

Sunday during an interview on the "Allegedly With Theo Von & Matthew Cole" podcast, Cheryl Burke was asked who her least favorite celebrity partner was on DWTS. Now, other more seasoned celebrities (and human beings) wouldn't have fallen for this cheap attempt at gossip journalism. Instead of answering, someone more experienced or simply smarter would've refrained and moved on to a different topic. Someone braver might've even called the interviewer out on the low-rate question that shouldn't be regarded as journalism. 

And here is when a thoughtless and ignorant decision to answer a subpar and adolescent question takes a turn into "are you fucking kidding me with this shit" territory.

Instead of deflecting, not only did Burke answer said question but she went on to say that working with Beverly Hills, 90210 star Ian Ziering made her want to slit her wrists. She said she considered jumping off a balcony to injure herself and did so with any partner she was given over the age of 65 (save for Wayne Newton).

You know, I realize that even though it's the year 2016, we've still got quite a way to go on our journey to understanding mental health. I get that there are still a lot of people who don't "believe" in psychiatry and think that issues of this nature are made up, bogus or even worse. And I realize that taking medication for these types of issues is still fairly high on the universal stigma meter. 

I am pretty sure, however, that we've most definitely reached a time when people tend not to joke about committing suicide all that often anymore. Most people, save from a certain breed of schoolyard bully, are in total agreement that making light of the topic of suicide is pretty much completely abhorrent and fucking inexcusable. 

Now, I'm not sure exactly what Cheryl Burke was doing the day that fucking memo went out. I'm assuming it was something like kicking puppies or stealing delicious candy from tiny, tiny babies. Maybe she was telling Make-A-Wish kids that once when she was their age, she swallowed a piece of gum and thought she was going to die so she knew what they were going through. All of these things seem like viable possibilities. 

Cheryl Burke has since apologized for her comments and admits that she was "out of line" in her remarks. And kudos to her for listening to her publicist when the poor fucker called her thirty seconds after the sound waves carrying her words reached a human being's ears. But I wonder if she's really thought about the greater damage that she's done. She's helping to reinforce to those people who are struggling directly with this issue the idea that no one cares about what they're going through. She's diluting the very meaning of the words themselves -- words that should strike a chord when someone hears them. And then there's the more personal level. Just based on numbers alone, there is an almost certain chance that Cheryl Burke knows someone that is or has struggled with suicide, whether she knows it or not. She's admitted to having friends and family that struggle with depression and yet she somehow thought that making light of this issue, with a goddamn microphone in her face, was a totally okay and not at all completely insensitive and disrespectful thing to do. Does she seriously think that some half-assed apology that rings with the truth of a politician's smile is going to repair the damage caused by her callous and incomprehensibly self-absorbed remarks? Does she really even care? Doubtful.  

Hopefully Cheryl Burke will somehow learn from this, although one has to wonder how prepared her brain is for the learning process. I think reading her words, straight from the horse's ass, really puts into perspective just how adolescent and fucking stereotypically "Heather" this 26 year old perpetual Mean Girl is:

"My least favorite [partner] would be Ian Ziering. The fact that his name is not EE-AN and it's EYE-AN makes me want to throw up."

"By the way, I also don't know anybody, so I would have to Google almost every single partner of mine, other than Ian Ziering because I used to watch 90210," she shared. “My mom, my crazy Asian mother, would let me watch an hour a week, and I would watch 90210, 8 p.m. on Wednesdays. I'm like, 'Why, couldn't you give me Luke Perry or Jason Priestley? Why you give me that guy?' I know he's on 90210, but give me Screech [Saved by the Bell actor Dustin Diamond]."

"I mean, I could try and hurt myself," she said. "I thought about that a couple of times. I've got a balcony and was like, 'Should I jump?'...I wouldn't die. I wouldn't die. No. I wouldn't die. I would just be like, 'Hey guys, I'm injured this season. I won't be able to come back 'til next season.'"

"Anyone over the age of 65 I wanted to jump," she added, although she was quick to note that her season five partner, 74-year-old Wayne Newton, was 'lovely'."

She's a real fucking class act, isn't she?

Now, I'm guessing she'll have more learning opportunities than normal right now. She'll probably have plenty of chances to practice not saying stupid-ass shit with the overwhelming number of pseudo-journalists that are sure to beat down her door in the next couple of weeks, hoping for a new nugget of insensitivity and brainlessness.

No matter what, though, I think Cheryl will be able to take this experience and use it to better her relationships with future dancing partners. After all, she probably sees much clearer now how easy it is to lose your footing, misstep and really stick your foot in it. 

HA! Just kidding! She hasn't learned shit. 

Personally, I think the real kicker -- what Alanis Morisette might call "ironic" -- is that if this happened in the 90s, good old Cheryl would be sitting in front of the TV, Wednesday at 8:00, to watch Steve Sanders and company doing a very special episode of 90210 to address fallout from this whole disgusting event.

Life

Life almost never goes your way. There are people that will tell you that's not true and those people are either naive, stupid or use the word "blessed" too often. Now there isn't anything wrong with people who focus on the positives in life, other than we all want to strangle them most of the time. But for those people who understand that life can be an uphill struggle from start to finish but still be totally worth it and rewarding know differently. 

I don't like to talk too personally about people other than myself on here so just for the sake of this blog, let's just say that some really shitty stuff has happened lately with my family. When something like this happens, something that is polarizing even for a short period of time and will possibly change your life going forward, what do we do to make sure that we don't lose ourselves through the course of events and fallout? How do we not get buried under all of the details and how do we learn to take care of ourselves when we're devoting most of our time and attention to other, necessary, things? 

I pretty much have no answers. Some moments, I feel like I'm lucky to have even thought of the questions. 

I've mentioned before that I struggle with anxiety and depression, so too often my instinct is to hide inside of myself whenever possible. I become a pro at handling information-based communication but breakdown almost entirely if things get too personal, losing the ability to speak frankly about my thoughts and feelings. I find that in order to properly handle all of the important things that need to get done, I have to sacrifice other areas that take too much of my energy. 

I don't know if this is the right thing to do, I just know it's what I need to do in order to get done what needs to get done. My husband says I'm handling things well. He calls me the strongest person he knows (because he's wonderful) but it definitely doesn't feel like it. I'm freaked out most of the time and am only starting to realize that every single day, I feel like a life amateur. 

There's been no stage that I've been prepared for, life-wise. I didn't know what I was doing at all when I was a kid. Being a kid is like running in brand new dress shoes, across freshly Zambonied ice on legs made of those peel-apart Twizzlers. You will literally never be stable or understand a goddamn thing that is happening to you and hopefully you'll laugh and scream and have fun through most of it.  And honestly, not too much has changed for me since. Each stage of my life has been a surprise and almost nothing like I expected. High School was both exactly like and fucking light years away from a John Hughes movie. I was a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a criminal and a princess but I'll tell you that I never once sat in detention gabbing and learning from my peers all day while we played music and danced and snuck around the school only to be indelibly bonded to them for life. That never ever happened. College, for me, was ridiculously more vast and life-changing than I ever thought it would be -- and I went in thinking it was gonna be huge. My twenties were seriously like almost the exact opposite of how I imagined them. Nothing I did felt at all sure-footed and literally no part ended up with any permanence in the long hall, save for getting my dogs and making some truly amazing friends. And my thirties, honest-to-God, ranged from "what the fuck, are you kidding me?" to "how in the fucking hell did I get here?" And that's on both the good and bad side of things. 

I'm starting to think that the moment you really grow up is when you stop trying to convince everyone that you know what you're doing. Not at work, we all have to fake it there, but in general. When we can actually say out loud that all we're doing in trying our best but are really only guessing at the right things to do -- that's when we earn the term "adult". It's not about understanding anything better or achieving some sort of experiential status. It's just about being honest with ourselves, first and foremost, and then with everyone else about the fact that -- for the most part -- we don't know fuck all about like 95% of everything. And most of that 5% that we do know are like Beatles lyrics, Friends quotes and where the best donut place is near our home.

Some days, I do wish I knew a little bit more about what I was doing. Okay, every day I wish I knew more. The lack of confidence during tough times can get scary, especially when people are counting on you. Right now, I'm finding that panic attacks are a part of my daily life but I'm also finding that I get through them every single day. I'm leaving the house knowing full well that I'll probably have to deal with one sooner rather than later and in my parked car instead of in the safety of my home, where no one can see me. But you know what? I'm still leaving the house. I'm still doing what I need to do. I'm still hanlding my shit like a semi-pro (life amateur status still intact) and I'm still muscling through and staring in the face all of the things that make me twitch. 

So, maybe my husband is right. Maybe I am stronger than I think. Maybe it's not about how scared I am or how many days in a row I have a panic attack or how there are some moments that I feel like the smallest, tiniest speck of light in the world and that everything around me is working to snuff me out. Maybe it's just that I keep going. Maybe it's just that I close my eyes and gather my strength and do what needs to be done. I have my go-to's and my rituals and my panic attack evacuation procedures and maybe it's just that I use them everyday and I don't allow myself to give up at life. Maybe it's that I've learned to accept help from people who care about me and, for me, that's almost harder to do than anything. 

So, maybe I will be okay. Maybe I'll even be good. And maybe my dreams will still come true even though it feels like there's no room for them right now. Maybe I won't give up all over again, every single day, and I'll choose the only life for myself that I've ever understood. 

Cause I may not know what I'm doing but I do know that the world needs me. I do know that no one has exactly what I have to offer. And I guess strength, a lot of the time, is just being able to say that and really mean it.

Shame on the Shamers.

Okay, enough's enough. For real. I think the Internet it great. I really do. It has done so much to open up our world and allow us to see and experience things that we'd never have the opportunity to otherwise. We can connect with people across the country or across the planet. You can fall in love with someone you'd never even have the chance to meet. You can see what it really and truly means to live in another place. You can see how different people are from region to region and, more importantly, how similar we are. You can keep in touch with family far away wth the click of a mouse or the touch of a screen. And you can now even help people in your neighborhood or in a place you've never even heard of -- how cool is that?! 

You know what else you can do, though?

You can make someone else feel like complete and utter shit just for the fucking fun of it. 

Seriously. 

Let's talk for real right now.

What the hell, people?

Why has shaming become the new Internet pastime? Now, I realize that the Internet is not a bar. Everyone is on it. And certainly, like every middle school and high school across the planet, where 12 - 17 year olds go, so does fucking little bitch attitudes and an atmosphere ripe with hormones and bullying. But that's not who I'm talking to here. Because, for the most part, we were all little shits when we were that age. We all thought that we knew everything, were smarter than everyone and any teeny tiny difference we saw in the people around use we considered suspect. I'm talking to the full fledged adults that are supposed to be showing these teenage hemorrhoids how to behave instead of joining in on their inexcusable and horrifying behavior.

Whether it's fat shaming or slut shaming or any other kind of shaming that doesn't yet have its own catchy moniker (like skinny shaming cause that's a for real problem, too)-- it's seriously unacceptable and anyone that partakes in this kind of adolescent and pathetic behavior needs to take a good, long, hard look in the mirror and figure out what in the fuck is wrong with them.

How is it that so many of us never really mature beyond the high school level? Why is it that a very good portion of the population realizes as they age that this type of behavior is both a neon sign that its owners feel gravely lacking in some way and truly is, at its core, just fundamentally wrong while the rest of the world has decided that they can basically treat anyone however the fuck they want to? How is it that this kind of dichotomy exists?

What is it about certain people that makes them think that they are allowed to act any way that they please? Why do they feel that it's their job to judge others and proclaim their assessment for all to hear? How is it that these people think that their words of derision and condescension are a fucking public service? 

Facebook has become a hotbed for horrible shaming of all kinds. Last week, I actually read one woman write in a comment about the recent Lane Bryant commercial that both NBC and ABC refused to air due to decency laws that the female in the spot that was pictured breastfeeding was a whore. Seriously, she called a breastfeeding woman a whore. 

What in the ever-loving fuck is wrong with someone like that?

Let's just throw away the fact that, basically, at the beginning of "civilized" society men decided that a woman's body was only for their pleasure and arousal so that while they could trounce around without a shirt on whenever they pleased (as long as they weren't entering a food-selling establishment in which case you better have shoes on too) while we women had to cover up our breasts, particularly the old nipplage. Like I said, let's just throw that shit away. That part of the double standard isn't even going to enter into my argument here. If you're going to take exception to a woman who is showing more of her body than you're used to why pick on the woman using her breasts for the actual reason that they were created? She's fucking feeding a goddamn child. There is absolutely nothing sexual going on with what she's doing in the slightest and yet this Confucius-like pronouncer calls her the dirtiest word you can call a person. 

I'd like to turn this around on the woman who made the comment and say, if you see a woman breastfeeding her child and immediately find the best description to be one of a sexual and unseemly nature then, lady, you're the person that has something wrong with them. Honestly, that comment was deplorable. 

When Kim Kardashian posted her nude selfie, the Internet blew up with people calling her a slut. Fuck, I blogged about it. And when a Melbourne street artist showed support and painted a mural of said selfie, it was defaced with the word "slut" eight fucking hours later. 

Seriously, people. Do we not have more things that we can use to insult Kim Kardashian? She does nothing. She's the personification of mouth-breathing. Do we really need to call her a slut? We didn't call Ray J a slut and he was in that goddamn video wth her. Granted, we don't call Ray J much of anything anymore, but that's beside the point. 

And it's not just the women of the world who face shaming (not that that would make it okay). Just ask Wentworth Miller who recently spoke out against the fat shaming he faced after putting on weight in the wake of his depression. And kudos to him for coming forward and bravely talking about his struggles. I happen to know, because of working at a place he frequented in Los Angeles (which I won't give any more clues to for privacy reasons -- it's not juicy or exciting just a place most of us all go as humans) that he's a very quiet and private person. Some might say shy. And this man, who never treated me or any of my coworkers with anything other than respect and kindness, now feels the need to come forward and share a piece of himself that he probably isn't totally comfortable sharing just so that other people going through the same thing will hopefully feel a little bit better about themselves. And all just because The LAD Bible forgot what actual reporting was and got it confusing with bullying. Now, I will say that they (The LAD Bible) have since apologized with an open letter to Mr. Miller on their Facebook page and addressed the topic of mental health. Hopefully, we'll see in their future actions that they really mean the apology they published. I certainly hope so. But, let's face it, the damage is already done. Shaming never just affects one person. It affects all those who witness the shaming, as well. And as great as an apology is (and truly, apologizing takes guts) I urge anyone reading this to consider your actions first, not second. 

Now, I'm in no way saying that we shouldn't rally around wrongdoing or give our opinions about things in the public eye or things that affect us. It's the way we do it. It's the language we use and the vehemence behind our words. It's who we say it to. And it's WHY we say it. 

Are you asking your relative or friend to take more care with their health because you love them and want them to be with you as long as possible or are you yelling at a stranger on the street or posting a "funny" comic on the Internet, as one of my former co-workers recently did? Because those are two very different situations. The first is a show of concern for someone we have information about and have a real relationship with and the second is a fucking little prick thinking his piece of shit 20-year old ass is a wizen old man who has the right to judge others and make a joke out of something that millions of people struggle with. 

See the difference you Tokyo Drift-loving motherfucker? 

Enough is enough. It's time for shaming to be something that more than just mothers and teachers make sure the people around them aren't doing. It's time for those of us who know better to become united and vocal about the "adult" bullies who seem to have Peter Panned in the worst possible way. And it's time to stop treating people's feelings like weaknesses instead of the significant influence they actually are.

A Not-So-Modest Proposal

So, I've got a book. I know, shock of all shocks, a blogger wrote a book! Insert shocked emoji here. That's not actually a big surprise, though, as I have other unpublished books and unsold screenplays sitting in my closet. This one is special, though, because it's non-fiction. Anyway, I'm getting prepared to launch my book on Publishizer, which is basically Kickstarter for books. I am so super pumped about this whole process, no matter what happens in terms of raising money. Obviously, I want it to do well. Hell, nothing would make me happier than if I got a visit from the book publishing fairy with a sparkly wand in one hand and a contract in the other. But regardless, when the whole thing is over I'm going to have a much better idea of what my next step is and what people think of it in general. Having said all of that though, I'm also fucking freaked about it. The proposal you submit (provided you complete it at 100%, you technically don't have to) is super comprehensive. And I don't mind that at all. On the contrary, there's a chance to be put in touch with publishers through this process so certainly weed out the people not taking this shit seriously. But, it just makes it very real, ya know. I mean, this isn't something to half-ass. This isn't a term paper or some written final exam for your political science class that you can pretty much wait until the last minute to do and not ruin your life in the process. 

Some of the things have been pretty simple to accomplish. Book overview, check. Short author bio, check. Catchy slug line to draw people to my book, quippy check. Those were fun. I got to do some fun creative writing and let my sarcasm gene take a whack at things. Currently, I'm working on the book list of similar titles, which they should really just call what it is -- a minimum of five book reports. I've got my annotated Table of Contents underway, which is more a feat of endurance than anything else. And then I'm coming up with fun and creative rewards for people who are fucking rad enough to donate which is like getting to choose cool Christmas gifts for the kids in your family. The one that's turning out to be the real bitch of the ball, the real fucker of the farm, the real crapbag of the carousel, is the "About the Author" area, which is different from a bio in that it needs to be much longer and fucking sucks balls to write. 

I'll admit, like a lot of people, I don't hate talking about myself. Fuck, I have a blog, right? But telling the great fairy tale that is me is proving to be a bit of a pain in the everything. For instance, I know that my adolescence was very important in carving out the woman I am today but it's a very delicate and tricky ice dance weaving an interesting and multidimensional coming of age tale in white, Christian suburbia. How exactly do you describe the oppression of living in a town that's 4.5 square miles (of land and 2.5 of fresh Lake Erie water) and has, I shit you not, 6 churches? Does it sound weird? Cause it felt fucking weird. And they're all pretty run-of-the-mill Jesus fan clubs. I'm not judging the churches themselves, I just mean they're denominations we're all pretty familiar with: Catholic, Methodist, Lutheran, Baptist, Presbyterian, and something else I don't remember but can drive you to. And no, the handful of other families residing in our suburb that weren't Christian didn't have any places of worship within town limits to belong to. There wasn't a Mosque and a Synagogue and a Temple next to every church. Just a bake sale. 

Almost everyone in the town was white, too. A fun feature that, I imagine, felt very natural and comfortable to some people but to me just felt...gross and kinda icky. So, I spent the better part of what was really a pretty great childhood bitching at my parents for moving from where they grew up on the east side of Cleveland to the west and to a suburb known as "a great place to grow up": we had good schools (public and Catholic), good sports teams (we mainlined soccer and manufactured pro athletes) and we were safe (until the kidnapping and murder of one student and the fact that The Fugitive is based on real grizzly shit that happened in my town before I was born).

That was fun to read about, wasn't it? 

Exactly. 

So now I'm on something like my 15th draft -- this one surrounding a playlist that reminds me of my best friend, which essentially means it reminds me of why I'm me. I have a feeling this draft isn't going to last much longer, though either. As a matter of fact, I think I've just declared it dead.

Okay, enough stalling. Time to get back to it. This bastard ain't gonna write itself. And since I'm sure you guys are dying to know the title of my satirical masterpiece, it's:

"If You Were An Alien, Would You Want To Live Here? 101 Reasons Why Fearing An Alien Invasion is Absolutely Preposterous and 10 That Kinda Make Sense"

Boom.

Girl on Girl Crime

"Dear women, you ALL are acting tacky AF! Why don't we overly (myself included) fortunate women come together and try to create and bring jobs to other women in desperate need of them so they can support not only THEMSELVES but their families! #happyinternationalwomensday can we all put the cuntiness aside for one fucking day and love / celebrate one another! PS no matter how hard you (or myself) work NEVER will I feel I am worthy of the comfort I live in.... Because so many others while I tuck myself in at night are laying their head on the pavement, dreaming of all the things we take for granted every day. Much love to all my women!!!"

Miley Cyrus posted this caption on Instagram, attached to a picture of Kim Kardashian's Kimoji. And, I gotta say, I agree with her. Now don't misunderstand, I'm not saying that I think Kim Kardashian should be famous. I have yet to see a skill displayed in that lady. I mean, fuck talent, just show me something that she actually does besides let cameras follow her around and allow her name to be put on products that she didn't design, didn't create, didn't craft and didn't conceptualize. BUT, having said that, maybe let's not call her a whore. Maybe we shouldn't be calling any woman a whore or slut or whatever word we're using to shame them sexually. I understand that she gained fame for a sex tape. And no, I don't love that. But not because she's naked and fucking Ray J (badly, I might add). But because I don't see her using that platform as a bridge to showcase some skill or art or talent or brand new thought. Seriously, anything in that area. As far as I can tell, her only goal was to be famous. 

But, having said all of that, it's still not a good enough reason to call her a whore. I mean, call her inconsequential. Call her annoying. Call her a hack or talentless. But it's time we stop calling each other whores. After all, it's been 12 years since Tina Fey and Mean Girls told us that we "all have got to stop calling each other sluts and whores. It just makes it ok for guys to call you sluts and whores." And she's right. We have GOT to stop the slut shaming. After all, if you slut shame women and you don't slut shame men, you're not a very good feminist, are you? Men and women are supposed to be equal in our world. So, seriously, if Matthew McConaughey's deep desire to never wear a shirt just makes you shake your head and roll your eyes -- that's the exact same reaction you should be having towards Kim Kardashian's exact same behavior. And if you're one of the people who cheers when he does it, well, get off Kim Kardashian's ass already. 

Now, I'd be really nice if the story ended here. If Miley Cyrus just made us all feel like assholes who hate each other and who are so caught up in making other women feel bad about themselves that they needed Hannah Montana to teach us all a lesson. But sadly, she not equipped for that. I mean, she's not Lizzie McGuire. 

The second half of Miley's story is how she decided, almost in the same space of thoughts as her Instagram post, that it was a good idea to post old photos of Jodie Sweetin clearly inebriated and grinding on a guy. Jodie Sweetin who is now sober and up front about her struggles with drugs and alcohol. Jodie Sweetin who is trying to help others with her candor. And Jodie Sweetin who is having success again, through Fuller House and now Dancing with the Stars. 

So, Miley. Let's talk, girl. You said some really good things in your Instagram post. Throwing shade and slut shaming are totally tacky, you're right. Putting cuntiness aside and celebrating each other is something we really need to focus on. And women who are in the limelight might consider spending their time uniting to help other women instead of fucking acting like little bitches, clawing at each other's faces. So, Miley, what the fuck happened? Why'd you defend one woman and then cut down another? What the fuck is up with that? I dunno. Maybe it's cause Kim K is more famous. Maybe it's cause Kanye is Kanye and you want him to like you. Maybe there's some secret beef you and Stephanie Tanner have that the rest of us aren't privy to. You should know though, when your left hand is bitch-slapping womankind for adolescent behavior at the same time your right is acting like a Heather, you're gonna seem like a hypocritical bitch. And you're not going to do a wonderful job at making your point, either.  

It's too bad, too. You made a good one. We need to stop judging each other harder than we judge men. If we're gonna get pissed when men hold us to a different set of standards, we can't fucking do it ourselves. And we need to just fucking stop being dicks to each other. That's honestly not helping anyone. And how much more badassy would we all be if we supported each other instead of tearing each other down all the time? 

You got some good thoughts in your head, Miley. Maaaaaaaybe apply them to yourself.

An Open Letter to America from an American

Dear The American People,

It's with much sadness that I write you this letter but I see no way around it. I agree that we've got an incredibly diverse country made up of multiple ethnicities, genders, creeds, sexual persuasions and onward but we seem to be having some troubles creating a home for such vastly different people. The way I see it, however, there really isn't so much about who we are as people that divides us and keeps us apart from one another and because of this, I'd like to put forth a new way of looking at the people who make up our forever evolving country. The grand makeup of this Union of ours doesn't, in fact, have us split up into dozens of smaller classifications of people: black, white, Hispanic, gay, Catholic, Muslim, trans, able-bodied, etc. Instead, we actually fit into two much broader classifications that, yes, we can then continue to examine until we find additional bonds that unite us and varying traits that make us multifaceted but I think people will find that these two classifications actually tell us much more about the people we're dealing with than any other way we label people in this country now. 

My thesis? Our country, the great United States of America, can be divided into two distinct categories: those people who want to be on the right side of history and those who belong on the wrong side. There are a great many people who affiliate themselves with the wrong side of history (although, admittedly, I imagine they wouldn't agree with my labeling system) that have been wailing on for years about our movement forward as a country under a regime of political correctness. And in the spirit in which these free speech patriots have forever been rallying, I'm going to take up their banner for a moment and opt for the unabashed bluntness of being politically incorrect:

If you believe one race, one gender, one sexual orientation or one religion is better than another...that makes you a racist or a sexist or a homophobe or a bigot. That isn't something up for debate. Those are just words with definitions like blonde or brunette or southpaw or dentist. Now, we've been going through a lot of debate in our country from the time of its inception about what kind of connotation these beliefs have, long before we even had those words to describe them. "Separate but equal" was a big motto we went with for a long time as was "don't ask don't tell" -- both ways for us to acknowledge our differences without having to deal with them or include them in our own group's reindeer games. I do, however, feel like we've reached a point in history when we have to be a little bit more blunt -- a little more abrupt and a little more, well, rude. And I'm confident that even though some people will not agree with my premise here, those people will still be able to admit that my political incorrectness in this instance is at least something that unites us in clarity. 

So, for all of those who identify with any of the labels I mentioned above (racist, sexist, homophobe, bigot) or any others that work to keep us apart instead of bring us together...the debate you've been forcing us to have for hundreds of years? Yeah, there IS NO DEBATE. A debate implies that there is the possibility of multiple outcomes or answers. A debate implies that these are opinions and the topics we're discussing have multiple sides and points of view, all of which deserve to be heard. THIS IS also NOT TRUE. It's time to take the kid gloves off and just tell it to you like it is, after all, you guys have been using this premise to discuss your views in open forum since the beginning of time. So, without further ado and explanation...to say that you're wrong is such an immensely minuscule way to phrase how motherfucking wrong you are about life that it begs me to reach through my computer screen and slap the dead soul out of your body. You're not just wrong about your take on life and how we're supposed to walk through it, you will be the absolute reason why we fail in this earthly endeavor that we're all a part of together.

And let me speak in words and sentences that will get YOUR attention instead of what the rest of the world, those of us on the right side of history, feels is the most important measuring tool. So, not your heart and not your soul. Because again, all in the sense of honesty, you people don't give a fucking fairy's ass about heart and soul. If you did, you wouldn't use your religion to damn people to hell (and there are people from EVERY RELIGION that do that even when their religions go expressly against this tenant). So, to get hip with your clan's jive, let me be honest with you about where you've gone wrong, in terms that will mean something to you. None of you people, not one of you, is anything but a goddamn IMBECILE. Seriously. Oh, you have a Ph.D.? I'm sure you do. Imbeciles can get PhDs. It says you have a Ph.D. in economics or genetics or philosophy (or whatever)? Fantastic and a hearty congratulations but you're still a fucking imbecile. And do you know why you're an imbecile? Because you, who have devoted your life to judging others (which is what it's called when you won't stop talking about how your group is better than everyone else's and you commit yourself to making sure these "others" don't get afforded the same opportunities that you do) have totally and completely missed the ENTIRE fucking point of life. 

And you know what that makes you? Fucking LOSERS. 

Regardless if anyone has found a complete and satisfying answer regarding the meaning of life (whether for themselves individually or for humanity as a whole), one thing that we can most definitely trust is TRUE is that dividing us against each other, refusing to work cooperatively and creating a planet and society where some people are rewarded with everything for nothing and others the entire opposite is NOT THE FUCKING POINT OF THIS WORLD. So, if that's your agenda --and let me be clear that if you believe you should be afforded more opportunities than other people that is, in fact, your fucking agenda -- then you have gotten the answer to the test question "what is the meaning of life" wrong. You had your blue book and your pencil, you came to your final exam on time, and fucking biffed it. You would've been better off just handing in a blank goddamn book than writing the drivel you believe on the pages inside. At least then, some people would've thought your forgot about the exam. Others might've thought you were taking a stand against testing policies. And some people might've even given you the benefit of the doubt and worried that you were in an accident on your way to the test. But by filling your entire blue book with words of pompous self-posturing, inflated ego-boosting that can only be compared to the mythical self-given blow job, and hate-filled words of ignorance that only go to show that you literally know NOTHING about the people you share this good Earth with, you have proven, beyond a shadow of a doubt, to all of us that you have fucking FAILED the LIFE exam. And that, sirs and madams, mean that you are goddamn LOSERS. 

Why, you ask? Why does this make you losers, if we don't even know who's grading the exam, if there's a curve or if the grades even count at all? For one simple reason. The world you are creating with your blind, stupid ignorance is a fucking cesspool. You are creating the Fire Swamp. And you may be the King or Queen ROUS but you're still a fucking rodent, regardless of your unusual size. So instead of creating a goddamn Shangri-La, where every inhabitant lives their best life possible, you've chosen to turn the goddamn gift that is LIFE into a fucking shithole mess. You've actually chosen to live in the Fire Swamp over Care-A-Lot. 

And the thing is, even an 8 year old knows that's fucking stupid. And when an eight year old knows you're a dumbass that means you're a LOSER. So, welcome to your reality, assholes. Finals are over and you didn't make it. Your consolation prize is living in the filth you've built while the rest of us prepare for Care-A-Lot. And even if we never see that grand place in our lifetime, just working on a project so beautiful and rewarding is a gift itself. Because I may never get to see the completed work but working on a goddamn Picasso with other artists is by far more meaningful then completing the landfill you're working on. 

In conclusion, I urge you to rethink the way you look at this country, seeing so many groups that keep us separate from each other and understand there are simply the two. Those in The Fire Swamp and those desperately trying to create Care-A-Lot. And it may seem like you're making more progress but that's only because you don't acknowledge anything outside of your Fire Swamp borders. But time will tell and so will history. And as you've so graciously pointed out on multiple occasions, the only way to have winners in this world is if there are losers, too. So, thank you. Thank you from all those on the right side of history. It is only because you're LOSERS that the rest of us get to be the winners we really are. 

Sincerely,

A Historical Winner and one of the proud Foremothers of Care-A-Lot. 

p.s. Please consider this letter notice of my official Care Bear stare.