Let’s Clear The Air On This Whole Don Trump Thing

Unfortunately – and I say that not really meaning what I’m saying – I might lose some followers after this post.

It’s not really unfortunate.

It’s good.

It’s fucking great.

Bye Felicia.

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A little known fact about this here blog lady is that she (I’m talking about myself) used to work in politics. First as an event and fundraising planner, then as a community organizer, and finally – just before the burn out and disillusionment set in – as a voter registration coordinator. It’s very complicated really, and I’d prefer to not get into it; but I say the disillusionment set in because at some point I was at some bullshit political meeting and not a single person in the room I spoke to could describe to me any of the following:

a) what policies they liked that their candidates were proposing;

b) what they found to have been “jobs well done” by their current local representatives; and,

c) a goddamn thing about the Constitution or the way American government works.

So I got out and buried my head in the sand for many, many years. I went to grad school, thought long and hard about how much the world really did need to be educated; then in a rough and tumble-y turn of events, I became a Stay At Home Mom, and part time writer and artist.

As my kids age, and depend on me less, I have started reading more and following the political sector once again. CNN and MSNBC are on the television as background noise as I cook, clean, and fold the laundry. And while I will never get involved in local politics again, with the 2016 election I am rapidly finding myself embroiled – mentally – in everything-politics, for every minute my mind isn’t wandering into the “what did I do with my life???” abyss.

That being said, this isn’t a political blog. It never will be. Occasionally I’ll post something that could be considered a political issue. But to talk about policy, candidates, and the like – well you won’t be finding that here.

Except for today.

I feel like we need to clear the air on this whole Don Trump thing. And I’m sure that after clearing it, a select few of you will be out the door. Never to return. Goodbye forever. Sayonara.

As I said: good.

Don Trump Is Racist

When W Bush’s comments to Muslims shortly after 9/11, assuring them that we welcome and accept all of them and do not regard them as terrorists – when the comments of the man who was unambiguously the worst president in the history of our time are now becoming the voice of reason, you better believe there is something wrong.

Don Trump is a racist; but beyond that he is a religious bigot, a sexist, and a terrifying spokesperson for a very broken part of our nation.

Over the past few days since Trump’s clear rise in likelihood to secure the Republican nomination, I have watched video after video of people at Don Trump’s rallies being interviewed; and so many of them mimic his exact platform. Keep the Muslims out. Send the Mexicans back home. Build the biggest wall you can build to keep everyone out that isn’t white.

Don Trump Has No Substance

When asked about his specific proposals and plans as president, Don Trump shouts things like “make America great again” and “we’re going to help our vets and troops.” When he’s accused of just being vague and not actually talking about actual real-life plans or proposals, he fires back and says “I’m specific. I am a very specific person.” But then doesn’t go into any specificity.

His campaign is fueled by a negative policy. Negative in the sense that he focuses on how much he thinks is total and utter shit about this country right now. He’s going to get rid of the Muslims. He’s going to get rid of Obamacare. He’s going to get rid of all the behaviors and policies he thinks are wrong, and yet he never describes a) how he’ll get rid of them, and b) what he’ll replace them with.

In fact, the most detailed proposal he’s come up with was at a rally early in his campaign when he said he’d stimulate the economy by starting a war with Asian nations.

Seems like a legit policy plan.

Don Trump Is A Moron

At tonight’s debate, a question was asked regarding Trump’s tax returns. Something about Mitt Romney thinking there was something wrong with Trump’s returns, and that this was why Trump was not releasing them.

Trump was right in a lot of ways in his response; and quite frankly, he was on point this one and only time when he described how up front he has been in all of his financial disclosures.

Where he miss-stepped, though, was when he made up a word to describe something as being large. Or largely something-or-other.

Trump referred to something as “bigly.” BIGLY.

Yesterday, after the Nevada primary was declared his, Trump did say he loved the poorly educated. I can only assume he included himself in that demographic.

Don Trump’s Rise Is The Closest Political Rise Any Nation Has Come To Hitler In Modern Times

The hate speech that comes out of Don Trump’s campaign, and the idolatry of him by his supporters, is so terrifying that I am a mix of paralyzed and stupefied. Every day I read the statistics, scan over the polls, and hear all of the supporters coming out in droves, and I sit with my mouth agape that this is what our country has come to.

I remember several years ago there was a movement to raise money to do a full historical preservation of Auschwitz – the Nazi death camp that held prisoner millions of Jews during WWII. The rapid falling apart of that camp’s grounds, along with dwindling numbers of WWII survivors world-wide that could recall and share their experiences of the war, was cause for concern among many politicians and historians as to the consequence of people not being able to experience first hand, in some form or another, what happened during the Holocaust and the War.

If we don’t have these reminders, will we forget? And if we forget, could it happen again?

And now here we are in 2016, where the fear and hatred and lack of education throughout much of America is giving rise to this man who is nothing more than a Reality TV buffoon. A character of quirky faces, ridiculous hair, and scapegoating hate speech. He says he would like to punch dissenters in the face. He wants to build a wall and kick out anyone with a religion or skin color that he does not like.

And his supporters at rallies have been documented saying things like “I wish I had my gun, I want to shoot some Muslims so bad right now.”

At the very least, Don Trump is the alternative 1980s Biff Tannen when Marty goes back to find that Biff has married his mom in the alternate, fucked up universe in Back To The Future 2. The man is tyrannical, just as Don Trump no doubt will be if he gains power over this country.

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For me and my family, if Don Trump is – by a long shot – actually elected President, this country will have indicated that it is full of people with whom I no longer share values. My family and I will be out, not only for that reason but for our safety.

I just don’t see Trump and his supporters to be a good kind of crowd to hang around.

So now I’ve made myself clear.

Beyond that, I could give a fuck who you vote for. On the Right Ted Cruz’s appearance is terrifying, I have a major crush on Marco Rubio, Kasich is probably the only person remotely Presidential in the bunch, and Ben Carson makes me wonder if I too could one day become a brain surgeon, if his level smarts are all it takes. And on the Bernie/Hillary side, I just wish the Democrats would shut the fuck up with the attacks on each other, vote, and move on.

But Trump…if you plan on voting for him, let’s just say our goodbyes and move on. You with your guns and your hate and your bigotry and your idolatry of a man most foul. Me with the knowledge that we’re all better off with out your type around these parts.

Bye Felicia. Or should I say … you’re fired?

 

 

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Really, Internet? Yes. Really.

Today was errand day. It’s one day a week: Monday. We pack all the errands into that day so that we can avoid leaving the house the rest of the week. By the end of even a moderate Monday errand day I’m exhausted, crabby, and unwilling to tolerate anything. And that’s like two stops.

Today’s Monday errand day included nine stops spread over two cities. It was terrible. A terrible Monday errand day.

You can imagine, then, how I felt about getting home to find that another infuriating thing had gone viral on the Internet. I should have just not gone online. After errand day the only thing I should do is pop open a bottle of wine and cuddle up with my Netflix. But I was waiting to hear back from someone about this art show I’m doing in March, so I just wanted to check.

And so I got mad. Monday errand day mad.

No less than six people on my Facebook profile had shared this picture so vile and awful, I almost fell speechless. On the surface it seems like it’s just supposed to be some funny meme. A funny meme from well over a year ago that a random group of people just happened to pick up on, and has now gone viral. Really, it’s a silly thing to get so mad over. I mean it’s got this bland cartoon of a woman and this quote of supposedly-sage advice “always remember, it’s better to arrive late than to arrive ugly.”

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But is it really silly to get mad about this? I would argue this thing raises some serious issues.

Am I The Only One Who Doesn’t Give A Shit About How I Look?

Don’t get me wrong, I still bathe daily and brush my teeth. And sometimes I throw on a little mascara, or put on a cute hair clip. But beyond making sure I don’t look like a homeless person or a drug addict, I basically don’t give a single fuck about how I look.

That goes for what I wear too. 90% of my wardrobe is yoga pants, tank tops, hoodies, and oversized t-shirts.

And why should I live any way other than this? Worrying excessively about how I look is an indication that I care too much about what others think of me. Again, it’s all about the time and place too. Obviously I’m not going to wear my yoga pants that are torn up at the feet to a wedding. Clearly I’ll pick and choose when it’s appropriate to show up with a unibrow (actually it’s never OK to show up with a unibrow). But at the risk of sounding sanctimonious, what kind of an example is refusing to leave the house unless I look perfect setting for my kids?

And plus…I have two kids. Once you have two or more kids, there is a different standard by which all things are judged.

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If people are truly comfortable and confident in high heels, pants that need pliers to be zipped up, and 70 layers of pancake makeup, well kudos to them. I’m not sure I believe it, but kudos. That doesn’t change, though, the weird feeling I get when I know there are people out there who will actually refuse to leave the house for any reason at all without them.

Am I The Only One That Thinks Being Late To Apply Mascara Is A Little Narcissistic?

I mean…

Being late because there was a traffic accident on the freeway? Acceptable.

Being late because your aunt died and your uncle called to give you funeral details as you were walking out the door? Of course this is cool.

Being late because you wanted to finish your morning beauty routine before leaving the house? Well fuck you.

No really. Fuck you.

I have a serious problem with people that show up late. I understand that things come up, and I have been late more times than a lot of people, I’m sure. But I usually have a decent reason, and moreover I always – ALWAYS – send a text or call to say “hey, I’m running late.”

And it has never – NEVER – been because I prioritized my hair products or my lip liner over the respect whomever I’m showing up late to deserves. I mean really: isn’t it a little self-centered to think that your beautification is more important than another person’s time? They can just sit there pulling their pud while you apply false eyelashes?

Am I The Only One Concerned About The Messages We Send To Our Kids?

There are three symbols on the bottom lefthand corner of that dumb meme: a high heeled shoe, a lipstick, and a lipsticked-set-of-lips. Each of those symbols represents one very important idea: hiding who you really are. Making yourself taller. Tinting your lips brighter. Puckering those babies fuller.

Changing something about yourself, and then going a step further and calling an unchanged self “ugly.”

When I read that, over and over again as I scrolled through my Facebook feed and saw all the people that had shared it, I felt the nagging, unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach that comes up when I read something I just know is wrong – like the moral kind of wrong.

But then I Googled the phrase: “Always remember, it’s better to arrive late than to arrive ugly,” and tons of alternatives of the meme came up. It’s a colloquialism, something we have adapted as a way of life.

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Maybe I’m just being old fashioned, or too hard on a silly joke intended for the sides of make up bags, but this seems to reflect a bigger problem our culture has. That what is on the outside is far more important than all else, and that respect and common courtesy is disposable if you can think of something better to do.

Really, Internet? Yes. Really. At least if you believe what the memes say.

It Could Always Be Worse

Have you ever had someone say that to you?

You’re having a bad day. You found out you have high blood pressure. You got into a car accident. Your company announced pay cuts. You’re frustrated, you’re tired, you need to vent, and so you meet up with friends or family for drinks and vent over beers; or you climb onto the ol’ Interwebs and post a gripe on your Facebook.

Then there’s always that asshole, someone just sitting there waiting for the opportunity to invalidate another person’s difficulties with those varying sets of words that always mean the same thing:

It could always be worse.

“Just remember there are people out there without homes;” “your health problems are nothing compared to people dying of cancer;” and “at least you have a job” are a few of the many varieties people throw out there.

They all have the same intention: to tell you to shut the fuck up, and to remind you that your life is always more fortunate than others. Even if it’s not (necessarily).

Well, I’m sure that not everyone has a purely malicious intention behind saying those evil and unnecessary words. Some people honestly – not sure why, but honestly – believe that by highlighting the misfortunes of others, that they are really doing a service to make you feel less like shit about your own situation.

This is such a social phenomenon (comparing others to ourselves in an effort to feel better about our worthless existences), that modern psychologists have given it a name: Downloading Social Comparison. It’s a little complicated, and more about people that intentionally seek the hardships of specific others to feel good about themselves (rather than to highlight it to another person in a general “other people have it worse” sense); but the concept is still in line with the same.

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By downloading a look at another person’s life, our own issues seem paltry and petty by comparison. (Sometimes. I mean I have a few Facebook friends whose lives definitely make me feel like every time I think that I have my own shit together, I am reminded by their posts that I am actually – in reality – literally the most disorganized and unkempt person on the planet.)

Downloading Social Comparison is actually considered a factor in mental illness by many psychologists. Mental illness, and yet somehow the Nosy Nancys of the world think it’s a positive thing to point out the shit of another person’s even hypothetical and generalized situation every time you gripe about anything shitty that happens to you.

But what’s truly wrong with the “it could always be worse”-ers of the world is also very simple.

Is it possible that someone else has it worse off than you do? Very likely. Especially if you live in a privileged country, such as the United States (I say privileged in the sense that we have clean, potable water and Wifi just about everywhere you go).

Though to use that in an effort to stifle or push away a person’s natural and healthy feelings about their own personal experiences is – in a word – wrong. Sure, other people have it worse, and in particularly dark times it’s nice to remind ourselves to be grateful for the things we do actually continue to have through adversity, when others may not. But to always compare in an effort to forget or to shame a person’s complaints is like saying that  their problems are trivial and unimportant, when in many cases they are anything but. It would be like telling someone they shouldn’t be upset about having to file for bankruptcy because there are some people who can’t afford a roof over their heads. Does the terribleness of others really make it any easier to deal with having to file for bankruptcy? I mean, really…

comepete-with-yourself-1024x1024And anyway, aren’t we allowed to be upset about shitty stuff that happens to us, without having the shame and guilt of someone else’s worse hardships shoved down our fucking throats?

So this happened to me today, actually, which is what prompted this blog post. I posted a Facebook status about how after a year and a half, today was the first time since I was diagnosed with a wheat allergy that I actually felt like crying about it. I just wanted Girl Scout cookies so badly, and there was no way I could eat any of them. In response, someone told me that my gluten intolerance was better than dying of cancer.

Really?! Really.

1ca2d460b89d87aa9db35238d9c3330fOf course being allergic to wheat is better than dying of cancer. Of course it is. What kind of a person would even compare the two? But what I felt after reading that was exactly what that comment’s intention was to make me feel: shame. Shame for thinking that not being able to eat Thin Mints sucked. Shame for being sad that I can’t have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich if I want without having to bake my own bread. Shame for it all, because somewhere out there other people have it worse. Somewhere out there a person is dying of cancer, and their dying thoughts are clouded by all the ungrateful assholes who sit around complaining that they are allergic to the ingredients in a delightful case of Caramel Delights.

How dare I have feelings about my own situation. It could always be worse.

I have one much simpler response to all of that…it’s simpler than explaining Downloading Social Comparison, and a lot easier than going into all the things that are wrong with trying to invalidate the feelings of others. Just one response, which goes like this:

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All The Possible Reasons Everyone’s So Ungrateful All Of A Sudden

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Does anyone remember when people used to do that super annoying Facebook status thing, where they’d post a daily thing they’re thankful for every day in the month of November, leading up to Thanksgiving?

If you aren’t from America, perhaps you’ve been spared this glad-handed way of humble-bragging that people used to do. You, dear international friends, were the real fortunate ones.

It went like this:

So and so person you are connected with on Facebook, whom you maybe passed once in the hallway while in high school over 15 years ago: “November 4th, Day 4…catching up as I missed days 2 and 3, but I am SO grateful for my wonderful family, my amazing husband, and my intelligence – without which I wouldn’t have all the career opportunities it has afforded me.”

I’m not kidding you people, so many of my Facebook “friends” would post some narcissistic nonsense about how smart they were or how talented God made them. I. Shit. You. Not. The rest of their days of gratitude were filled with all the other banal details of their lives, like their suburban homes, or their “married to my best friend” spouses. And, naturally, the month was capped off with a barrage of material possessions God has bestowed upon them.

Fucking gag, I know.

A few years ago, when it had reached a fever pitch – and anyone who’s anyone on Facebook was doing this – I wrote a blog post about it. And relentlessly made fun of people that did it on social media.

I also, for a while, posted daily things I was ungrateful for. Like famine and foreign wars, and Ebola and HIV. And homelessness in my own community, and the 33% of children in my own town that live in poverty. Naturally, they went over like a lead balloon.

As I sit here today, though, and realize that this little gratitude for one month of an entire year thing is over, I can only hope I played a part in the demise of this nationwide trend.

Failing my participation in taking down this atrocious behavior, I have a few other theories about why this November-exclusive-public-declaration-of-thankfulness came to a sudden and screeching halt. (And if you’re thinking that I have a lot of time on my hands to be coming up with these theories, you would be right.)

No one has any interest in feigning gratitude anymore.

Look. We all know that very few of us wake up in the morning, stretch, take a look around our surroundings, and then ponder all the wonderful things we have in life, and how thankful we are for having them.

Maybe you do it once in a while, but every day? Come on, you can’t play me for that much of a sucker.

There are a few reasons for this. One is that for most people there is no time to sit and ponder dick. Your alarm has been going off for going-on an hour, your kids are jumping on the bed, you have a meeting in 30 minutes, and your morning constitution is already making its way out the back door. No one (except obviously me) has time to sit around and think about anything anymore, which is a damn shame but it’s a product of the times we live in.

Another thing about this all is that as we grow older and the stressors of life start to wear us down, feigning gratitude for some bullshit like a big screen TV seems a little besides the point.

No one posts Facebook statuses that often anymore.

This is not to be confused with suggesting that no one uses Facebook anymore. I know it’s cool to hate social media, and to look down on people that use Facebook regularly; but let’s not beat around the dick here: a lot of people who claim to rarely be on Facebook can be seen as “online” or liking and commenting on shit from sun up to sun down.

That’s not the point anyway. People used to post status updates a lot. I still do, most of the time to make jokes about myself. But to even figure out how to describe a Facebook status update like I did above (So and so’s gratitude post from November 4th), I had to scroll through basically five day’s worth of Newfeed, for at least 15 minutes, and I still hadn’t even hit a status update yet – so said “fuck it” and winged it.

I don’t know about you guys, but my Newsfeed is all News, Blogs, baby photos ad nauseum, and cat and dog videos. Ain’t nobody got time to be posting the things they’re grateful for when there’s a mashup of Adelle’s Hello and someone’s cat leaning over a telephone.

People are grateful, but not for anything they’ll admit to.

Housing assistance. Food stamps. Therapists. Financial aid. Daycare because if you have to watch Calliou one more time you’re going to rip your ears off your head to avoid hearing that kid’s whiney fucking voice ever again.

Life’s rough, and the economy sucks. That doesn’t mean everyone wants to admit that their grateful for relief from it.

Like all Facebook trends, this one just died.

You know Facebook is all about the trends. For a while, during the holidays, it was this thankful daily post thing. Other trends have been: posting long statuses about how people with cancer never get a break from it and 98% of your friends won’t repost that message; sharing recipes and cute holiday crafts instead of recognizing the existence of Pinterest; and, those awareness games like changing your Facebook photo to a child cartoon character, or posting where you like to hang your purse vaguely – as if that will somehow raise awareness for your cause. I could go on, but I won’t…

The newest Facebook trend is to put a colored filter over your Facebook profile photo in support of whatever cause happens to be the thing of the month. When the United States Supreme Court legalized gay marriage through out the country, everyone’s picture had a rainbow over it. After the Paris attacks the other day, it was the French flag. Of course now cases against doing these types of things are starting to crop up, just as they did with the Facebook thankful posts…but you get the point.

Facebook is about the trends, and as all trends go they eventually die.

Don’t get me wrong guys: I’m glad to not see everyone’s daily posts glad-handing their wonderful lives filled with Starbucks coffee and nice cars. Everyone’s posts eventually derailed into that kind of bullshit, and it’s simply because at a point we run out of things to list being thankful for.

I’m not an advocate of being ungrateful for the things you have in your life. But what I am an advocate of is being realistic about the important and unimportant things out there. My husband has a job, and we have a roof over our heads. For those things, I am grateful. We have our health, and that’s wonderful too. Occasionally I’ll post something on social media making that gratitude clear, and I can do so without making a show of doing it every day for just one month of the year; and certainly without using the hashtag #blessed.

But now that no one is posting about what they are thankful for on social media anymore, I can’t help but wonder why.

Confrontation At My Local Disney Outlet

I had forgotten how many assholes live in my community.

For the last year or so, we have been really swamped. I mean really. Between my father having hip replacement, and us staying with him during rehabilitation; the decision to move closer to him for seven months while we got his home ready to sell; three vacations amounting to a total of nine weeks (Chicago, Chicago, Houston); moving back into our “home community” to a newer, bigger place; then in the culminating event of the past year, selling my dad’s home and condensing his house into a storage unit and one room in our new home…it’s been a little chaotic. I haven’t had a lot of time to get out. Relax. Mingle among the locals.

Now that we are moved in and our place is perfect, homeschooling is on autopilot, and we have no more unanticipated vacations coming down the pipeline for as far as I can see, I’ve been able to get back to normal life. I got back to my book club. And my knitting group. We started having people over for BBQs and dinner again.

And we’ve been out more in the community. Among all the assholes.

It’s been a long time since a bizarre situation appeared itself before me. Trips to the nail salon have not involved police in years. And I can’t remember the last time I witnessed a parent-on-parent confrontation, especially one in which I was involved.

So today, owing to my apparent amnesia as to the state of this community at large (the simple fact that: a lot of people in our town are pretentious, nosy assholes), I decided we were going to have a “girls day” and go shopping. This were just going too well. I had gotten so comfortable in this lack of drama and confrontation that I thought we’d have a good time.

And for the most part we did.

The outlet mall has outdoor corridors, and it was a beautiful day to walk from store to store. We went to the Toys R Us outlet and used up some old birthday gift cards. We went to Michael Kors and I drooled over the purses. I got a shirt at Levi’s for $9 and two pairs or stretchy pants at Charlotte Russe for $15. My wedding band inspection was due, and so we stopped in at the Kay’s Jewelers, which revealed a majorly loose diamond in need of repair. All in all it was fun, relaxing, and productive.

Then we had one, final stop. The Disney Outlet.  They had a sale on kid’s hoodies I wanted to check out, and allowance day was earlier in the week. It was going to be quick. It was going to be easy. How dramatic could a trip to the Disney Outlet be?

We found the hoodies, quick and easy. We started perusing the stuff in the allowance price range, and then a lady came in with two, young children. I mean I have young children, but I mean these two kids looked maybe four or five, and acted two. The little boy started immediately knocking things off the shelves. The little girl, every minute and a half – right on time, as if she had a stopwatch – screamed as loud as she could.

The mother kept coughing and coughing, the entire time. I tried to shuffle through the store quickly. Crashing things. Screaming. Cough cough cough.

Crashing things.

Screaming.

Cough cough cough.

“Can I help you find anything?” a sales employee asked, and the woman said they were just looking, between coughing, coughing, whooping… whooping

“Can I get you a drink of water, you seem in distress,” he said and then she admitted she was getting over a case of whooping cough.

Crashing things.

Screaming.

Cough cough cough.

Communicable diseases.

I continued to shuffle through and it just got worse and worse with these people. I heard two other employees standing near us, quietly talking about how they’d called the manager for approval to stay later in their shifts to clean up the mess this lady and her two kids had made.

It was that bad.

Crashing things.

Screaming.

Cough cough cough.

Communicable diseases.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. They were really close to us at this point. Like looking at the same merchandise. I said “ok, we have to get going so pick what you want now please.”

And then I got protest. Can’t decide. Everything’s great. Blah blah blah. So I did what any other parent in this situation would do, well at least a desperate and at the same time civilized parent, and I leaned over to my ten year old and whispered – WHISPERED – ‘look I can’t take this kid screaming anymore and that lady has whooping cough, we need to go.’

She looked at the disaster of a family standing right next to us – coughing, screaming, and crashing things to the floor; she said she understood. Allowance purchases were selected and we were ready to go within less than a minute.

As we started to walk to the cash register, I heard amidst coughing, screaming, and more things crashing someone shout at me. “Did you just whisper about my family?”

We were the only people in the store, but I still ignored her and walked off. The employees had been talking about her. And anyway, I had whispered. What I say quietly to my kid is my own business. I did absolutely nothing wrong.

But ignoring her was apparently the wrong thing to do; because while checking out, this crazy, coughing lady followed us to the register and started screaming at me “I asked you a question you fucking cunt.”

Disney Outlet. Young children. Do You Want To Build A Snowman playing over the loudspeaker.

Welcome to the Magic Kingdom. You fucking cunt.

Now a lot of people would have turned around and belted that bitch in the mouth. A lot of other people would have turned around and confronted her. Her with all her issues, her lack of belief in the whooping cough vaccine, this psychotic family, and the obvious absence of mental and social decorum.

I signed my credit receipt and instead said as we walked out that I had not heard her. “It’s a little loud in here.” We walked out of the store, the door greeter apologizing for the incident.

With the exception of this lady yelling “fucking bitch” as we exited, the situation was over.

When we got to the car, my daughter asked why I hadn’t “told that lady off,” to which I responded with the common lines about choosing your battles, feeling sorry for people with so many problems, and so on and so forth. Morals. Lessons. Moving on.

But as I drove into my garage, and got everything into the house, I thought about the fact that this is not only a stark reminder that there are a lot of assholes in my community, but that we live in a society in which everyone thinks everything else is their business. So what if I whispered to my daughter about them? Is there something so special about her and those kids that makes that unacceptable?

At least I whispered, others would have said something much louder, and to her face. I chose the high road, while at the same time using tact to get us out of a bad situation. I’ll say it again, and defend it to the death: what I say quietly to my kid is my own business.

STFU Fridays: “Who Cares” About Kimye

There are two camps of people in this world: those that shout “who cares?” to all-things Kardashian, and those that stand in line for a couple of hours to ask acne-ridden Khloe for her autograph at a Laker game.

I’ve blogged about these people before, and I’m fairly certain that I said a number of times in there that I don’t care. The truth is, as far as my personal life and day-to-day interactions go, the Kardashians don’t even exist in my mind. I don’t wake up in the morning and check up on the buzz over what Scott and Kourtney have been up to. I don’t try to dress like Kim, or do keg stands like Kris. And I certainly do not – never ever EVER – watch their show(s).

Whenever I see articles about the Kardashians, though, I always notice something in the comments. There is always an unprecedented number of people shouting through the Internet – screaming from behind their computers – the same line over and over again: who cares? Who cares about these media whores? Ignore them and they’ll go away, they say. I have more important things to worry about, they argue.

Who cares?

Well today, in spite of the fact that the Kardashians and all of their sordid affairs have no bearing on my life whatsoever; today, in spite of the fact that I too don’t care – I am here to tell all of those people that said “who cares” to the news and the updates of the Kimye wedding to shut the fuck up. You guys have ignored them and “who cares”ed them long enough and it’s not made them go away. In fact, it looks like it’s just made them worse.

Many Things About Kim and Kanye’s Wedding Last Weekend Were – Arguably – Beyond Wasteful. Who Cares? Shut the Fuck Up.

When I read an article this morning with some of the sordid details of the Kimye wedding last weekend, I felt like my brain had been run through a cheese grater repeatedly over some of the stupidity and rampant wastefulness the event represented.

Reportedly, before the ceremony, Kanye didn’t like the most expensive sound system available, which was the sound system they had ordered. He didn’t like the speakers, I guess. He said they were too big. So he demanded that the entire thing be removed and used an iPod until a replacement sound system was brought in.

The money that was wasted on that set up, that Kanye argued went against his “minimalist style,” could have rather been – oh I don’t know – donated to a good cause. As an example, that money could have fed roughly 1500 children currently starving in Sudan, three meals a day, for the next full year.

Now I’m sure that all of the Kardashians and their offshoots, the Kanyes and all the other celebutants of the world give to charity. In some way. But just think about the wastefulness; how much the wastefulness could be that much more.

Honestly, I don’t even know where to go on; in fact, there was so much excess and wasting at the Kimye wedding that I don’t have the word count space to continue. I will say, though, that the golden toilet tower, the disposable marble dining tables with guest names etched into them, and the use of cranes to go to a higher area of the hill the chateau sits upon could have easily fed another couple thousand children – almost anywhere in the world.

And the headless marble statues. Oh, the headless marble statues. Four days before the wedding, Kimye reportedly ordered 30 nude marble statues to be put around the reception area. Somehow, though, only 10 of them made it up the hill, all of whom lost their heads in transit. Headless nude statues to adorn the reception area, and by the way the average cost of that failed endeavor could have clothed between 60 and 70 homeless families of four in the United States, for an entire year.

Spoiled Children and Total Direspect. Shut the Fuck Up.

Reportedly, Andrea Bocelli – arguably the world’s most famous and respected opera singer – sang during Kim’s processional. Afterwards, they had no seat for him to stay.

The Smith family was there too, with none other than little Jaden. I recently saw a meme that suggested a comeback/spin off of Fresh Prince, where Will Smith sends his spoiled kid to Phillie to learn to be less of a douche. I thought ‘little Jaden? Oh come now…”

Little Jaden wore a white Batman costume to Kimye’s wedding. For a couple hours, he even ran around the place knocking over and smashing glasses to the ground, and throwing his cape over people’s heads.

Who cares? If these people don’t have respect, no one will ever be able to change that? Shut the fuck up.

Kim Had a Crotch Dot, Went On A Rampage, and Turned Off the Power Leaving Everyone Inside the Golden Toilet Tower To Poop In the Dark. Who Cares? Shut the Fuck Up.

I guess at the reception a light beam was shining on Kim’s crotch. She went nuts and unplugged all the lights on the dance floor, which the golden toilet tower was positioned to the side of. So it went black inside the golden toilet tower, and rather than tell Kim that she was going a little overboard over a crotch dot, everyone cowered in fear and just peed in the dark.

Sound absurd? It sounds like a massive cluster fuck of diva mixed with narcissism mixed with – who cares!

Well I care, quite frankly because so many people followed the Kimye wedding on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and other social media news outlets this past weekend and following week that they broke records. Are you people with me? They broke social media records. THAT means that enough people – in spite of all the who cares, and what does this have to do with mes, that show up in the comments – a lot of people are paying attention.

More than anyone in that Kardashian-loving demographic are: kids. Teenagers. College kids. In other words, by not caring and choosing to be better than paying attention to any of these whorish, diva antics of the family that loves to drink and drama, we are letting the people who care learn from them. Next thing you know you’re daughter is getting married and a light beam shines on her crotch, so she takes the example her fave celebrities did and throws a narcissistic temper tantrum, only rather than cower in fear your guests flip the fuck out. Your boss is there, you get fired from you job. Friends never return your calls. Family disowns you.

That may be a little bit of an over exaggeration, but what I’m trying to say seems pretty clear. By choosing to ignore these antics, and by not speaking up, we are allowing these shitty people to dictate how our kids are going to act. Who cares? Why aren’t people caring enough to stand up and say that these people have a serious problem?  This sounds like the old story of Polly, who got raped and stabbed in a New York alley whilst apartment dwellers looked on and just didn’t want to get involved to speak up and speak out.

Why aren’t people standing up and saying why they don’t care?

I think maybe instead of telling people to shut the fuck up, what I’m really doing is telling them to speak the fuck out. Speak out against this Kardashian bullshit. Between their over the top antics, their wasteful spending, and their negative contribution to the world as narcissistic divas who have brains in their assholes – it’s time for people to stop talking shit and start doing something.

Like try to find out how many children in Sudan the Kardashians fed last year with their gobs of money that they have no problem throwing around and wasting.