Sunday, October 22, 2017

Sexual Assault Should Just Be a Tax Write-Off Now

I think it's time we all unite as a society and codify what is essentially already a reality: rape, sexual harassment, and sexual assault should just be a tax write-off now.

An article published yesterday in THE FAILING NEW YORK TIMES reported the following, which I will just paste here verbatim:
Last January, six months after Fox News ousted its chairman amid a sexual harassment scandal, the network’s top-rated host at the time, Bill O’Reilly, struck a $32 million agreement with a longtime network analyst to settle new sexual harassment allegations, according to two people briefed on the matter — an extraordinarily large amount for such cases. 
Although the deal has not been previously made public, the network’s parent company, 21st Century Fox, acknowledges that it was aware of the woman’s complaints about Mr. O’Reilly. They included allegations of repeated harassment, a nonconsensual sexual relationship and the sending of gay pornography and other sexually explicit material to her, according to the people briefed on the matter. 
It was at least the sixth agreement — and by far the largest — made by either Mr. O’Reilly or the company to settle harassment allegations against him. Despite that record, 21st Century Fox began contract negotiations with Mr. O’Reilly, and in February granted him a four-year extension that paid $25 million a year.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the country, Harvey Weinstein has checked out of "sex addiction" "rich-white-man-rapist-crisis-P.R.-stunt" therapy, but is chillin' in Arizona for awhile to continue "dealing with his anger, his attitude toward others, boundary work and the beginnings of work on empathy."

The "beginnings of work on empathy." THE BEGINNINGS. So let's review. 

Harvey Weinstein is throwing money at his civil and criminal liability to work on a concept that should pretty much be hard-wired into any non-sociopath. So I guess what that means is that sexual assault is just a cost of doing business and the IRS should make it a tax write-off, because here's what's happening:

Bill O'Reilly and Harvey Weinstein are just two prominent and powerful examples, but the fact is that a lot--A LOT--of powerful (and maybe not so powerful) men have been committing sexual felonies against women in the male-dominated workforce for decades upon decades. 

Not only have these crimes gone largely unreported (much less prosecuted or punished), but as long as the perpetrators can somehow continue to generate money in their respective fields or industries, they are welcomed back with open arms after paying the equivalent of a speeding ticket for permanently and serially violating the psychological and physical sanctity of fellow professionals and human beings.

Let's get one thing out of the way: to be wrongfully accused of sexual harassment or assault is a terrible thing. It can ruin the reputation and life of the accused forever. But like in-person voter fraud, the "false rape allegation"--much less the consequences that flow from it--is not exactly common. In fact, it is exceedingly rare. Statistics support this reality. From an article in Quartz:
Let’s start with the idea that false rape accusations ruin lives, and are therefore a universal risk to men. Generally, feminists dismiss this idea by arguing that false accusations are rare—only between 2% and 10% of all reports are estimated to be false. What’s equally important to know, however, is that false rape accusations almost never have serious consequences.

It’s exceedingly rare for a false rape allegation to end in prison time. This may be hard to believe, especially considering that rape is a felony, punishable with years of prison. However—to start with this worst-case scenario—it’s exceedingly rare for a false rape allegation to end in prison time. 
According to the National Registry of Exonerations, since records began in 1989, in the US there are only 52 cases where men convicted of sexual assault were exonerated because it turned out they were falsely accused. By way of comparison, in the same period, there are 790 cases in which people were exonerated for murder. 
Furthermore, in the most detailed study ever conducted of sexual assault reports to police, undertaken for the British Home Office in the early 2000s, out of 216 complaints that were classified as false, only 126 had even gotten to the stage where the accuser lodged a formal complaint. Only 39 complainants named a suspect. Only six cases led to an arrest, and only two led to charges being brought before they were ultimately deemed false. (Here, as elsewhere, it has to be assumed that some unknown percentage of the cases classified as false actually involved real rapes; what they don’t involve is countless innocent men’s lives being ruined.) 
So the evidence suggests that even in the rare case where a man is the subject of a false rape complaint, chances are that the charges will be dropped without him ever learning about the allegations.
In other words, the incentive to report sexual assault is incredibly low given the scrutiny to which victims are subjected and the lack of accountability their perpetrators face. DO THE MATH: It's simply not worth it for most women.

Do evil, nefarious, lying women occasionally use rape and sexual assault as a way to blackmail and destroy a man's life or reputation? Yes. But the statistical reality paints a more troubling picture, or what should be a more troubling picture: thousands of rapes and assaults--FELONIES--much less routine sexual harassment, go unreported and unprosecuted in order to protect the most valuable asset in western society: a rich man's reputation and his ability to continue to make money for himself and those in his field or industry.

Collectively, we've decided that on balance, it's worth it. One man's ability to keep making money is more important than thousands of women's lives and bodily dignity. So let's just go ahead and make sexual assault, rape, and harassment a cost of doing business. 

Let's be pragmatic and make it a routine part of insurance policies and a tax write-off.





Saturday, October 21, 2017

War Crimes Against Denim

I had to do a LOT (okay fine, ten seconds) of research to make sure this wasn’t FAKE NEWS and it seems—erm, seams—it is not.

A Japanese designer named Thibaut has just pulled the ultimate Emperor’s New Clothes at Tokyo Fashion Week with these “thong jeans.” 

You have to be super high concept to get these, but since I’m not high concept, I’m just gonna go ahead and call these a war crime against denim that merits prosecution at The Hague.

Before I get to the jeans though, let me just say that I know clear glasses frames are on trend. What I didn’t realize, however, is that the star of my mother-in-law’s calisthenics VHS home workout tapes from 1989 has embarked on a second career as a high fashion runway model.

We can’t all afford high fashion though, so here’s a step-by-step guide to making these jeans yourself at home:

1. Buy a pair of light wash jeans from Old Navy for $39.

2. Scroll through some Trump tweets while sitting on hold with the IRS until you’re good and mad.

3. Channel your rage into a set of poultry shears and go to town on the jeans while blasting P!nk’s greatest hits.

4. Discard 85% of the denim material to use for scrapbooking and your daughter’s Barbies later.

5. Take the remaining 15% and somehow step into it.

6. Walk out in public.

7. Wait for the police to ask if you’ve been in some sort of accident or perhaps mauled by an animal.

8. Convince the police you’re not a vulnerable adult who’s escaped from a psychiatric inpatient facility.

9. Turn around and run home as fast as your ironic Reeboks will carry you.

10. Try not to snag yourself on a fire hydrant or park bench as you go.

The End.






Hurricane Maria Response: St. Croix Update from My Friend in the Coast Guard

Last week, I posted an update on Hurricane Maria according to our friend, Andy, who is deployed there from Juneau and coordinating the Coast Guard's federal response to the hurricane. 

My mom's plans to travel there and do mental health relief work have not yet come together because folks like Andy are still doing emergency work and there's nowhere to stay. She expects to get there sometime this winter after immediate life, health, and safety needs are under control. 

Here's the latest from Andy:
St Croix report: I went to the east end of St Croix last week to visit the Coast Guard inspection office, which is not near a population center. The office has very limited communication and it was difficult to understand the situation on the ground from our command post in San Juan. Not surprisingly, some things were worse and some better than expected.
The utility grid is destroyed, and the roads have not yet been cleared. Utility poles are in the streets, wires across the roads. There was widespread damage to homes across the island, and I met several people who had been displaced by the storm. The Coast Guard permanent party’s homes were all rendered uninhabitable due to wind damage, water intrusion and mold growth. A temporary crew was housed in a hotel which was about 2/3 destroyed, but had remaining habitable rooms and a functioning restaurant. Many homes on the east end have rain catchment cisterns on their roofs as their primary source of water, but most of these have been contaminated by vegetation and windblown debris.

Despite the damage and the heat, the people I encountered were inspiring. Local residents have taken up roles helping each other. I met Maurya, a 70 year old retired U.S. Navy commander who took a leadership role to organize neighbors, and cleared some of the roads leading into her area with a hand saw. She was a career naval engineer, and did a tour as Main Propulsion Assistant on a minesweeper. I met Kevin, the “ice man,” who drove into Christiansted each day to bring ice to the east end to help those with no refrigeration.
 
The logistical challenges are not as daunting as in Puerto Rico; the island is smaller, the mountains are lower and there was less road destruction. The port is open, grocery stores and some bars and restaurants are open and fully stocked. Despite this, the disruption of lives has meant many people out of work. People are running out of money, hot and exhausted. People don't have functioning refrigeration, so they can't buy much fresh food. Hurricane Hugo has been in the Cruzan consciousness for several decades, but Maria will be the new reference point for destructive storms.

Friday, October 20, 2017

Challenging the Propaganda Machine: Sarah Huckabee Sanders Needs a Civics Lesson, Because of Course She Does

My paternal grandfather was a pilot in the Air Force during World War II. His service to our country fighting Nazis is probably the biggest point of pride in our family. I have his collection of wartime papers, photographs, and a few articles of his clothing and pins, some of which I have shared previously here. I remember looking at model airplanes in his home-office and hearing stories of his flight school training.

He was crushed when he was medically discharged from the Air Force for ulcers, and couldn’t serve abroad with his fellow fighter pilots. Had it not been for his condition, though, I likely wouldn’t be here, because nearly everyone else in his squadron was killed in action overseas.

I am proud of my family’s military background, which is at least part of why it was so disturbing to hear White House Spokesperson Sarah Huckabee Sanders tell a member of the American free press (referring to White House Chief of Staff John Kelly), “if you want to get into a debate with a four-star Marine general, I think that’s something highly inappropriate.”

Actually, it’s not. Putting aside the fact that John Kelly is now a civilian, “debating” a member of the military is absolutely appropriate.

What’s not appropriate, at least in our American constitutional democracy, is a slavish fetishization of the military—be it in the White House pressroom or at a football game.

What we’ve seen developing lately is a sinister brand of blind jingoism and obsequiousness. One that tries to suppress, shame, and intimidate civilian criticism of government actors based on the specious falsehood that such criticism is tantamount to “disrespecting our troops.” 

It’s a false equivalency and it’s a very dangerous one at that.

The American Revolution was fought—and won of course—by challenging the British forces that ruled the colonies. The Founding Fathers were deeply concerned about and highly skeptical of military incursions and overreach into civilian life. Their copious writings reflect the fundamental idea that the military is ultimately accountable and subservient to a civilian democratic government—not the other way around.

This is distinct from many despotic nation-states around the world. And certainly, it’s because of that distinction that American citizens remain free to criticize their government for failing to live up to its Constitutional guarantees.

The current administration appears not to understand this principle of basic American civics, and their ignorance is to our detriment. Make no mistake: for those in power to serve up this type of autocratic propaganda—unchallenged—endangers us all.




Thursday, October 19, 2017

Alaskan Horoscopes

Aries (March 21-April 19): Your passion will ignite this month as you read the comment threads in the ADN and wonder how anyone could possibly get so worked up over service dogs and the theft of canned Spam in Hawaii. Personally, you’re much more troubled by the fact that someone seems to get run over or shot in Anchorage every single day. Time to lock and load your rifle and go shoot yourself some moose sausages to let off a little steam. KABLAM!

Taurus (April 20-May 20): Your natural inclinations toward practicality and loyalty are at odds this month as you want to patronize your local independent book store, but deep down don’t feel like leaving your couch. You’re pretty sure they won’t have what you want anyway, and Amazon Prime shipping is free, so, you’ll just have to live with the guilt of contributing to the demise of Alaska’s mom and pop retail community, asshole.

Gemini (May 21-June 20): This month, a secret admirer will finally ask you out on a date! So what if your new love interest happens to be your kid’s second grade teacher’s ex-husband. And who cares if he suggested hiking Flattop followed by the Moose’s Tooth like that shit isn’t the most unoriginal date in all of Anchorage and you haven’t been on the exact same date 1,000 times. Just go with it. God knows there’s no better prospect on the horizon!

Cancer (June 21-July 22):
Your keen intuition will serve you well this month when an adventurous-bordering-on-stupidly-careless friend suggests you venture into the glaciated backcountry for three days unprepared for the elements. Take heed of those doomed souls whom Alaska has chewed up and spat out, and decide maybe not to let peer pressure turn you into a statistic this time.

Leo (July 23-August 22): You’ll capitalize on your physical strength this month as you take advantage of the PFD sale that finally prompted you to sign up for the gym again. You’ll need it after you slip and fall on early-morning October ice right outside the front door before you can even set foot on the treadmill. Good thing your insurance covers physical therapy—for now!

Virgo (August 23-September 22): You might find yourself getting emotional this month, but not from lack of sleep. The waning daylight has you patronizing retail weed stores more than usual (yay for democracy!) and sleeping from 7:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. and yet still waking up in pitch blackness feeling like you got into a fist fight with a grizzly bear. Take some time for self-care by crawling back into bed again.

Libra (September 23-October 22):
Your analytical side is dominant this month as you deal with that little nagging voice in the back of your mind that keeps asking, “what if oil never recovers and the state descends into an endless shit-spiral, my house winds up not being worth the dirt it sits on, and I have to start panhandling on the streets of Juneau just so I can afford to buy my child an outdated geography textbook in the hopes of cobbling together a decent public education for him/her?” Put a blue tarp over that fear, just like the one that’s been draped over the rusty snowblower in your driveway for three winters. Also watch the Monorail episode of The Simpsons and pretend the Monorail guy is Exxon. This won’t make you feel better, but it will make you laugh!

Scorpio (October 23-November 21):
It’s 10:00 p.m. in Alaska. Do you know where your children are? Unless you’re on meth right now, the answer is probably yes. Next case! 10:00 p.m. is also prime time to get on Twitter and stare into the Rectangle of Doom known as your iPhone while the rest of the country sleeps blissfully. Leverage your predilection for intimacy into creating some dank memes until you lose track of time.

Sagittarius (November 22-December 21):
You can be super temperamental, but this month your patience will be tested to the max as your Alaska Airlines jet overheads three different cities in Southeast on day five of a two day work trip. Use this unscheduled “vacation” to get familiar with a dodgy fleabag hotel and stay up all night wondering if anyone was murdered in your room as you watch re-runs of Forensic Files before you have to head back to the airport in three hours to attempt another failed departure.

Capricorn (December 22-January 19):
You can be cold, distant, and unforgiving, but this month you have to make a tray of brownies and at least five different meal train meals and potluck dishes for various neighbors with babies and numerous attempts to raise money at your kid’s school because the Legislature wants your kids to Rice Krispy-treat their way to jobs and college. Just try not to let your controlling side get the best of you when you realize the dog ate half your pan of lasagna and his hair is all over everything.

Aquarius (January 20-February 18): Don’t be shy about asking for what you need this month. For example, if the garage that changes out your snow tires says they can’t get you in for another two months, beg and plead and maybe even cry until they agree to accept your vehicle tomorrow. Nothing wrong with asserting yourself and turning your careless procrastination into someone else’s emergency every now and again. God knows someone does it to you every day of the week, and one good turn deserves another.

Pisces (February 19-March 20): Your love of water will shine this month as you stare at your enormous kayak and ask yourself why you ever bought that POS to begin with. All it is now is a decoration in your garage instead of someone else's garage. Don’t be discouraged by the fact that it takes longer to get down and loaded up than the time spent actually using it. Just look at it and smile and picture it actually on the water.




Wednesday, October 18, 2017

15 Little, Everyday Juneau GRIPES!

1. “In America, we drive on the RIGHT side of the road!”

2. “What? This place is CLOSED?! It says right here it’s supposed to be OPEN!”

3. “How is this construction project STILL going on?!”

4. “Aren’t these teenagers freezing their ASSES off?”

5. “Is there some off-gassing chemical in that Holland America poncho that makes you want to walk DIRECTLY in front of my car and almost commit suicide? Asking for a friend.”

6. “Is it raining AGAIN? Wait of course it is.”

7. “Ugh not a low ceiling! We’re NEVER gonna get outta here.”

8. “Ugh not high winds! We’re NEVER gonna see the ground again!”

9. “Wait today’s a teacher IN-SERVICE day?! Nooooo!”

10. “Why is the weed store already out of WEED?”

11. “This Costco peeled garlic is all moldy ALREADY?”

12. “OMG I can’t believe I just spent $10 on SOUP.”

13. “How do these leggies WALK in those HEELS?”

14. “Someone put THAT on Juneau buy/sell/trade?”

15. “How can one town produce SO MUCH DOG SHIT?”

BONUS GRIPES: "I DARE you to tow my car!" and "Is there ANY middle ground on the radio between Justin Bieber and Rod Stewart?"

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Newsweek Has Great Tips on Surviving Two Sociopaths Blowing Up the Planet to Prove Whose Dick is the Yoogest

It seems almost retro to say we’re in this place again, but welp, here we are, cowering under our literal and figurative desks once more. And not just to avoid an active shooter armed with 23 pieces of military-grade artillery festooned with bump-stocks and silencers dispensed as free samples at a gun show, either.

Nopers!

This time, we’re taking cover from two active sociopaths—one of whom happens to be the figure-head President of the United States—and both of whom seem bound and determined to return Planet Earth to its origins in the Milky Way just to prove whose dick is the yoogest and fairest in all the land.

The fact that no one will actually remain alive to rule definitively on this question has not deterred Fascist Senile Cantaloupe and Sentient Cabbage Patch Kid from holding humanity hostage in their global peen-measuring contest.

It's all good though, because the FAKE NEWS is here with this BOMBSHELL (pun intended) piece from Newsweek chock full o’ tips to survive a nuclear blast! Let’s break these down and see just how realistic this guidance actually is, m’kay?

“Experts recommend being on the lookout for emergency alerts that could come in the form of text messages.”

Okay, first of all, my iPhone sends me push notifications from trash-ass apps my kids download on the reg. This could easily devolve into a “boy who cried wolf” situation. Like when I hear one of those loud pings, pangs, bings, or dings, how do I know it’s not Barbie Dreamtopia Magical Hair telling me that new hair fashions are available for in-app purchase, as opposed to The Donald telling me that he finally pulled the trigger on the ultimate ragequit? Second of all, I’m sure Trump’s text will get lost among the zillions of group texts and FB messages on which I routinely find myself, despite making it clear in no uncertain terms that group texts and messages are Satan’s handiwork. This whole “nuclear-blast-text-lost-in-the-shuffle” is exactly why.
“It can take up to as little as ten minutes for a nuclear bomb to strike the U.S. giving no time to buy emergency supplies.”
The person who came up with this tip obvs doesn’t have the Amazon Dash Button. Thanks to Jeff Bezos, you can now order Charmin and Cheez-Its right from your bathroom and they will be on your doorstep immedes. I’m confident that ten minutes is MORE than enough time to procure the Nyquil, Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food frozen yogurt, Four Loko, and heirloom tomatoes (among other bare necessities) required to survive the nuclear apocalypse.
“Likely targets of a nuclear attack include strategic missile sites and bases, D.C. government centers, ports and petroleum refineries.”
D.C. is a fucking swamp in every sense of the word, and everyone who lives there should move anyway. That festering boil was officially canceled on 11/9/16. Otherwise, it sounds like you’re probably fine unless your house is in Prudhoe Bay or Cape Canaveral.
“Staying inside in the event of a nuclear blast is key. After 20 minutes of the blast, radioactive flurries and toxic matter will begin to fall. Fallout is especially dangerous during the first two weeks.”
Staying inside for two weeks is gonna be a fucking CAKE WALK, fam! My bed is already my favorite place on earth! The one teensy wrinkle is that I might be overcome by curiosity about “radioactive flurries” and be tempted to go outside with a black-light and see if we can maybe organize an end-times rave.
“If radioactive material gets on your clothing, government officials say taking off the outer layer can eliminate 90 percent of the radioactive material.”
But what happens to the other 10%? Will it give me glow-in-the-dark titties? Gawd that would be bananas, amirite? Here’s hoping!
"Get down, cover your head, don't stand there in the middle of Central Park and gawk. Get under something."
It’s too bad Harvey Weinstein had to fly to Europe for “sex addiction” treatment because his number one skill is getting on top of people. A nuclear blast would finally give that repellent, bloated sack of gelatinous hirsute donkey shit something useful to do with his “addiction” to jumping people’s bones. This is right in his wheelhouse. FREE HARVEY! The future of the planet depends on it!
“FEMA suggests camping out in underground spaces underneath large buildings before the blast. Experts also encourage hiding in a central location with no windows.”
Bruh! I love camping! Based on this description, the State of Alaska’s centralized mail room in the basement of the State Office Building in Juneau is the perfect place to pitch a tent and roast some s’mores over an open uranium fire.
“With a nuclear bomb eminent [sic.] experts warn [against] looking at the blast. Unlike the eclipse, special glasses won’t save you in the event of nuclear destruction, which causes a light so strong it's brighter than the sun and will blind you. Experts urge keeping your mouth open to keep your eardrums from bursting. If you live close enough to the blast, chances of survival are slim.”
So let’s dispense with the elephant in the room: post-nuclear winter, no one will care about the difference between “imminent” and “eminent” anymore, if they ever did. Much less will anyone know where to track down those special eclipse glasses that everyone threw out ten seconds after the eclipse was over. I’m sure when the Blinding Light of Impending Doom sears our retinas, we'll all remember to open our mouths so that our eardrums don’t burst, but also so that little specks of cosmic dust get into our lungs, presumably. But this only applies if you live far away from the blast. If you live close by, you might as well look right at that mushroom cloud with your mouth closed and your ears and eyes wide open so that all of your senses are fully engaged in your last moments on earth and you die looking like one of those little rubber stress dolls that you squeeze and the ears and tongue and eyeballs bulge out comically.
“A 2014 study published in The Royal Society found that most homes and buildings will not be able to withstand a nuclear blast.”
Actually forget everything you just read. We're all fucked and we're all gonna die! JESUS, TAKE THE WHEEL!



Monday, October 16, 2017

I Wrote a Song for All the Garys In My Life

I wrote a song for all the Garys in my life: past, present, and future!

Gary, oh Gary, you have ALWAYS been there for meeeee
Though I may have been quite wary
When you barged into the bathroom just to watch me peeeeeee (your actual name was Garyyyyyy!!!)

Gary, oh Gary, you said I should cover myself up
Even though I was only eleven
I said okay, sure, yuuuuuuuuuuuuup!

Gary, oh Gary, you said I was too faaaaat
Even though my body was 100% normal
Whadyya make of thaaaaaaaaaaat?

Gary, oh Gary, you were there on the Brooklyn-bound A
Following me insanely from car to car
Just because you had something to sayyyyyyyy

Gary, oh Gary, you told me I dressed like a slut
Never mind that I didn’t ask for your opinion
And called you a fucking nuuuuuuuuuuut

Gary, oh Gary, you made an obscene gesture at meeeee
And pretended a softball bat was a dick
And gave it a fake hand job for all to seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Gary, oh Gary, you asked if we could “make a porn.”
My boyfriend was sitting right there
Clear as the day you were booooorrrrrn!

Gary, oh Gary, you’ve supported my careeeeer
Telling me to make eye contact and smile more
And comparing me to your wife with a sneeeeeeeeeer

Gary, oh Gary, you’re in the comment threeaaaaaaaads
Shit-posting dumb-ass memes
That make it seem like you got dropped on your heeeeeeeeeeead

Gary, oh Gary, you cat-called me on the streeeeet
And followed me with your friends aggressively
And looked at me like meeeeeeeeeeeeeeat

Gary, oh Gary, you got that crazed look in your eye
And pushed the boundaries of consent
But hey look I know you’re not that kind of guuuuyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

I’m sorry if your name is Gary and you’re really a woke-AF duuuude
I don’t mean to imply that all Garys are Beckys because that would be very ruuuuude.


LALALLALALATRALALALAFUCKINLA!

Image result

Sunday, October 15, 2017

Surprise! Mike Ditka is a Yooge Dick

Here's a non-exhaustive list of things I find more surprising than reports that Mike Ditka is a clueless, racist fucking dumbass:

1. Finding my kids' dirty socks all over the the floor and inside out.
2. Ending up on a group text against my will.
3. Trump tweeting some bullshit at 3:00 a.m.
4. Needing to take a piss when I wake up in the morning.
5. Dog shit on a trail in Juneau.

Ditka went full-on Archie Bunker in this radio interview about the NFL's #TakeAKnee movement:
I think it’s a problem. Anybody who disrespects this country and the flag. If they don’t like the country they don’t like our flag, get the hell out. My choice is, I like this country, I respect our flag, and I don’t see all the atrocities going on in this country that people say are going on,” Ditka said. “I see opportunities if people want to look for opportunity. Now, if they don’t want to look for them then you can find problems with anything, but this is the land of opportunity because you can be anything you want to be if you work. If you don’t work, that’s a different problem.
The stupid in this statement is SUPES hard to break down, but let me try one piece at a time.

I think it’s a problem.

TRANSLATION: A bigger problem than unarmed Black people being executed by the State on the spot with impunity.

Anybody who disrespects this country and the flag. 

TRANSLATION: Anybody who has the uppity complaining nerve to ask not to be executed by the State on the spot with impunity.
 
If they don’t like the country they don’t like our flag, get the hell out.  

TRANSLATION: If they don’t like being executed by the State on the spot with impunity, they should leave the country.

My choice is, I like this country, I respect our flag, and I don’t see all the atrocities going on in this country that people say are going on.  

TRANSLATION: Everything in my life has led me to this moment; this moment where I can’t possibly imagine anyone having a different life experience than me, much less consider the possibility that (a) that experience might be beyond the person’s control; and (b) similarly, not everything I am and have is simply the natural consequence of my hard work and the American meritocracy.

I see opportunities if people want to look for opportunity. Now, if they don’t want to look for them then you can find problems with anything, but this is the land of opportunity because you can be anything you want to be if you work. If you don’t work, that’s a different problem.

TRANSLATION: See above.

DA BEARS! What a dick.



Hurricane Maria Response: Trump is Garbage, My Mom is an Animal, and My Friend in the Coast Guard is a Badass

"Wait WHAT?" I asked my mom over FaceTime Friday night. 

My parents had just returned home from a play, and we were watching the end of the Yankees/Astros game when my mom casually dropped that she was headed to the U.S. Virgin Islands to do mental health/PTSD relief work for hurricane victims. 

She'd done this before. 

She spent six weeks in the Philippines after Typhoon Haiyan and made several trips to post-genocide Rwanda. So it's not like this doctors-without-borders routine is out of character or unexpected. It's just that each time she does it, I'm amazed, because at age 72, she is by far the oldest doctor on these missions and is only getting older with each trip. It makes me anxious, but also awed.

I'm not a fan of invidious comparison, so I try not to think about the fact that while my mom is trying to step in and do something real and compassionate for humanity--something not even our own President seems capable of doing without revealing himself for the steaming pile of hot garbage that he is--I'm on the internet writing jokes about my period and checking every ten seconds to see how many people reacted to them with a crying-laughter emoji. 

Everyone has their niche and their strengths, I suppose, and I'm not going to sit here and say my mom can "do it all." She definitely can't. Like there is a shitload of stuff she can't do. She's a terrifying driver and her idea of cooking is "foraging" for takeout at the various bodegas and farmer's markets in northern Manhattan and the Bronx. 

But when it comes to activism, she's an animal. "I'd go to jail to resist Donald Trump," she said before attending one of many post-election protests. "You have kids to raise, I don't recommend jail.” She's probably the only person I know who hates Donald Trump more than I do.

Now she's headed to a disaster zone yet again. This is why she went to medical school.

A friend of our family's--another total badass--is in the Coast Guard and stationed here in Juneau. Andy is away from his wife and two daughters for at least a month on deployment to Puerto Rico and the USVI. Here's his report from October 12, reposted from Facebook with permission:
For the last week, I've been back and forth between Miami and Puerto Rico coordinating logistics for the Coast Guard's hurricane Maria response.
I have traveled the north coast of PR; the damage is extensive, but the vast majority of buildings are made of concrete and are structurally intact. I have talked to people who were handing out relief near Humacao today (near where the eyewall made landfall), they reported that even there, though many houses were destroyed, most were not. 
The biggest issue is the devastation of the utility grid. Most of the island does not have electricity or potable water, and there are widespread landline and cell outages. The electric grid was on life support before Maria and this storm pulled the plug. We are expecting to operate on generators at our bases for 6 months+. Even the Coast Guard bases did not have reliable or sufficient backup power before the storm, and getting the right generators airlifted and installed has been a major effort. 
I have heard talk that the grid will be restored to current standards and be much more resilient that the previous version, which could be a good thing to come out of the storm. Coast Guard, National Guard, Air Force, Navy, Army and Marine aircraft are all delivering aid to the remote areas, but aid has not made it to all parts of the interior. 
Many people I have encountered in San Juan are piecing things back together and getting back to work in a city with very limited electricity. Shops and restaurants are opening back up, gas stations are open and regular commercial flights have returned to the airport (though the terminal had no air conditioning when I arrived). Leaves are growing back on many of the trees amazingly quickly. I have noticed a marked increase in green in just the past few days.  
I am flying to St. Croix and St. Thomas for the next couple days and will report what I see there.  
@ Viejo San Juan
I spoke to Andy on the phone yesterday, and he noted that the above update was mostly about the coast and not as much about the interior, which is still struggling to get aid. 

He is now on St. Croix on the east end of the island. He says the population centers are okay, but that folks in the hinterlands aren't necessarily getting services, there's no refrigeration, and it's miserably hot. 

In St. Thomas, he reported, about a third of downtown Charlotte Amalie has electricity and people are settling in to a new normal. Overall there was a mixture of hope and frustration, and I plan to share his next update separately.

I thanked Andy for his service and being a credit to our country. He responded: 

“This is why I joined the Coast Guard.”


Saturday, October 14, 2017

Attention 2017 Females: You’re Gonna Piss Yourself Laughing at the Snake Oil for Sale in the 1900 Sears & Roebuck Catalog

I love old-timey snake oil ads for women, whose insecurities have for centuries been a lucrative business. What's amazing about these ads from the Fall 1900 Sears & Roebuck catalog, which a friend sent me snapshots of, is really how little has changed. 

Check it out:


Freckles are very annoying blemishes, especially for those with pretty complexions. Time to render that skin soft and white! And of course, nothing disfigures a woman's face so much as an unnatural growth of hair.



Looking for a cure for "female weakness" and "all female disorders?" This is the greatest remedy of the ages! Especially if you're suffering from a "dread of some impending evil" or have "a craving for unnatural foods."



Do not be without an electric belt (WTF?!) for a hundred little aches and pains, including "weak nerve pains."



FAT FOLKS: Too much fat is a disease of great annoyance to those afflicted. Also, don't let your headaches turn you into a "martyr."



Oh look! Some guy named Dr. Worden is going to give you "female pills for all female diseases," especially "all forms of female weakness." WOMEN CAN BE BEAUTIFUL. Note: these pills are not a cure-all, yet two paragraphs down they guarantee a cure for any case. M'kay.



Constipation: that most hideous and deathly demon of sickness.



Friday, October 13, 2017

Yay! There’s No Travel Ban on “My Wealth!”

If it’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s when my wealth can't travel as freely as me. 

Forget about foreign exchange fees. I hate it when my wealth gets traveler’s diarrhea from a sketchy papaya salad in Ko-Lanta and can’t leave the resort hotel room for a few days. 

Or when my wealth forgot to sign up for TSA pre and has to get its titties felt up along with the rest of the unwashed masses in their neck pillows and Juicy Couture sweatpants and Uggs.

Or when (God forbid) my wealth's passport is expired and ends up grounded in Cannes.

If you have a lot of money, you have "wealth." If you only have money that comes twice a month in a paycheck, you have "money” or in my case, “a paycheck.” If you have a "job" you're just a regular old plebe. 

The real ballers of our one-percenter, economically-segregated, free market trickle down capitalist society don't have "jobs," or even "careers." That's for The Poors. No, these aristocrats are IN some amorphous field. I wish I could explain exactly how they got so rich, but as the saying goes, wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up first.

Like here's what the woman in this ad would say if you asked her what she did for a living. "I'm in finance," or "I'm in real estate," or "I'm in pharmaceuticals," or "I'm in advertising," or—my personal favorite—"I'm in business." It sounds almost mafioso, except it's perfectly legal and in fact actively aspired to.

See, if you're just a workaday rube, you're not "in" anything. I'm not "in" law. I'm a lawyer.  My friends who are fishermen, engineers, teachers, nurses, police officers, bus drivers, and doctors, aren't IN anything, either. They're just "a fisherman," a "teacher" or a "pediatrician." They aren't "in fishing" or "in pediatrics."

And don't bother asking anyone who's "in" anything what the fuck it is that they do all day. They won't be able to tell you. I've tried--MANY times--and I can't get a solid answer out of anyone. All I know is that people who are "in" something make unspeakable amounts of money, the origins of which not even they are willing or able to explain.

My point is, if you're not IN something, you probably won't find yourself wearing a size 2 tan suit and a white shirt with no stains on it (because you don't eat or drink) walking through a veranda in Italy on your way to an important meeting of whatever the thing is that you're IN. 

You're probably so calm, cool, and collected that your Diva Cup is staying in place as you stroll confidently and with zero concern about perioding all over your light beige pants. And you probably already have a CitiGold card to ensure that your "wealth" (as opposed to your "money" or "paycheck") can "travel as freely as you."

For the record, here are the top 10 places my “wealth” has “traveled” over the past year—all in one direction: forever out of my possession:

1. The deli counter at Rainbow Foods
2. The bank that holds my mortgage
3. The plumbing & heating guy 
4. Juneau Parks & Rec youth soccer 
5. Capital Service auto repair
6. Alaska Airlines
7. Amazon prime 
8. Hurricane relief
9. Snowpants
10. The giant gaping hole at the bottom of my checking account.

BON VOYAGE!



Thursday, October 12, 2017

I Brought Receipts on the Diva Cup (Not for the Squeamish or My Dad)

Did you see that parenthetical in the title? Dad? I'm talking to you. Stop reading this now. If you call me in three days and tell me how vulgar and disgusting this blog post is and ask me yet again how it is that I can function in the world as a respectable professional and still write about this stuff, I'll have to say I warned you. 

This disclaimer also goes for everyone who's not my Dad and/or who does not want to read a product review--a graphic product review--of the Diva Cup. If you don't know what the Diva Cup is, I suggest you Google it before venturing further into this post.  

Okay, that said, let us begin.

I was in the bathroom at work today, when I saw a colleague vigorously washing her hands. "Can you please do a blog post about the Diva Cup?" she sighed. Boy could I ever. "BOY CAN I EVER!," I said with enthusiasm. "I'll do it tonight. Stay tuned."

When I first tried the Diva Cup, it was called "The Keeper," and a friend of mine who also got periods raved to me about how amazing it was.

 "IT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE," she promised. Not so fast, my fellow moon-cycling friend.

Now before I go any further, let me just say I know the Diva Cup and its progenitors have their strict adherents. These devices are like licorice, cilantro, or the Grateful Dead. Women love them or they hate them, and no matter what camp you're in, you can't believe anyone would be in the other. 

There's also a hint of sanctimony to the Diva Cup camp, because you get to brag to everyone about how nice you are to the planet and how 12 months of YOUR used tampons aren't ending up in the Whitechapel Fatberg in the London sewer.

But whatevs. 

Here’s my final verdict on the Diva Cup: the margin of error is SLIM. 

When I first saw the different options and sizes, I became concerned. Under 30? Over 30? Before childbirth? After childbirth? Wait. What would happen to my junk? (this was before I had kids). Will it ever be the same again? And if it's not, how will I know? Will someone tell me? Good God this isn't a source of additional insecurity I need in my life.

Having deduced the proper size of Diva Cup (or Keeper, as it was called circa 2005 when last I tried it), I enthusiastically opened the package and my first thought was that it looked like a 1970s diaphragm Tinkerbell would use to keep Peter Pan from becoming her baby daddy.

But no matter, I was willing to give it a shot. I greeted Day 1 of my next period with an enthusiasm I hadn't experienced since my "Are You There God, It's Me, Margaret" days. I folded it as shown on the instructions and shoved it up on in there. I immediately knew this was going to require a level of intimacy with blood and gore I wasn't ready to accept.

And I was right. 

I kept at it for the better part of a year. And while the Diva cup SOMETIMES did the job, other times--meaning the 99.9% of the time you didn't get a PERFECT fit of this object into your vajazzle canal—you were playing with fire. And by fire I mean blood. And by blood I mean a LOT of blood. I'm talking some Sissy Spacek in Carrie type shit.

Like this is literally how I looked after a Diva Cup fail:



Needless to say, it wasn't worth it. Bottom line: DO NOT RECOMMEND.

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

The 27 Constitutional Amendments for Dummies and Also Presidents With Very High IQs

1st Amendment: This one’s yooge. The United States is a secular government and can’t force you to listen to Joel Osteen or pray to Allah. The government can’t stop you from saying and writing "dipshit motherfucking cocksucker asshole son of a cheddar dick," and most other things, with some limits. Those limits do not include “criticizing Donald Trump on TV.” The government also can’t stop you from “peaceably assembling,” i.e., marching around while needing to pee in a pink pussy hat or with Tiki torches in khakis and swastikas. The government can’t make you sing songs or salute flags at a football game or anywhere else. The government has to let you pray 24/7 if that’s your jam, but if you try to use your religion to shit all over other people’s human rights, maybe not so much.

2nd Amendment: The government can’t take away your musket because you might need it for a future revolt. Believe it or not, you probably can’t have a nuclear warhead in your basement, though. Some weapons in between are okay, but probably not every single one of them, m’kay?

3rd Amendment: The government can’t make you AirBnB your condo for free to the National Guard. Realistically this is never going to happen so you probably don’t need to worry about this amendment.

4th Amendment: This one gets heavy rotation. The government can’t generally fuck with you or your shit without a warrant signed by a judge explaining exactly the who, what, where, when, why, and how of exactly what shit gets fucked with. Cops can still fuck with you on the street or the road, within limits. The “within limits” is a crucial point to know, especially if you’re driving or walking down the street while Black. If the government screws up and takes your shit illegally, it can’t use it against you later because it got that shit in a fucked up way. This is called “fruit of the poisonous tree.” Courts don’t eat that fruit--they make the government compost it. Data-collection and drones are still a bit of a black hole in search-and-seizure land, but the courts are working on it.

5th Amendment: The government can’t raze your house to build a highway unless it pays you fair market value for it. If you get charged with a federal felony (e.g. RICO), a grand jury has to indict you. If the government prosecutes you for a crime and loses, it can’t prosecute you again. That’s called double jeopardy. This is the amendment you hear about on TV when some dude says, "I plead the 5th!” which means you don’t have to narc yourself out. Also the government can’t murder you, imprison you, or take away your shit without jumping through a zillion hoops.

6th Amendment: Criminal trials need to be prompt, orderly and legit. Like if you’re on trial for a crime you get to have a jury and face your accuser and ask them questions and get a public defender. So trials need to roll like that. Not like some sort of Kangaroo Court, North Korean, Banana Republic clusterfuck of human rights abuses, m’kay?

7th Amendment: If you spill hot coffee on your lap and sue McDonalds for more than $20.00 in federal court, you get a jury. Believe it or not this is a good thing. Watch “Hot Coffee” on Netflix and you’ll see why.

8th Amendment: This is that whole “cruel and unusual punishment” thing. The government can’t put you on the rack or hang you in the public square anymore. Also not allowed: thumbscrews, gibbets, the gallows, etc. Killing peeps by electrocution and lethal injection is still okay for now though. Also a judge can’t set bail at a zillion dollars or fine you zillions of dollars.

9th Amendment: Just because some rights aren’t spelled out in the Constitution doesn’t mean you don’t have them. We can’t think of everything, for fuck's sake.

10th Amendment: States’ Rights, y’all! The federal government has limited powers, and States and people get to call the feds out on their shit when they exceed those powers.

11th Amendment: Sovereign immunity, y’all! You can’t sue a State in federal court unless the State says it’s cool.

12th Amendment: The Electoral College elects POTUS and Veep. If you were alive in 2016 you can probably tell this isn’t the greatest thing ever.

13th Amendment: No more slavery.

14th Amendment: This one’s a doozy and goes on forever. Here's what you need to know: if you’re born in the U.S. you’re automatically a U.S. citizen. Also most of the federal constitution applies to state governments: they can give you more rights than the federal constitution but not fewer. Redistricting happens, and you can’t serve in Congress or as POTUS or Veep if you’ve ever committed treason (oops!). The whole “equal protection thing” lives here too. So the government can’t fuck with someone for their race, religion, gender, immigration status, wedlock status at birth, and possibly (though by no means definitely) sexual orientation and/or gender identity.

15th Amendment: Everyone gets to vote, including Black people and ex-slaves. Not women though! That comes later.

16th Amendment:
Federal income tax is cool. Bring on the IRS and the 1040/W2!

17th Amendment: Once upon a time, state legislatures got to elect Senators but now you get to do that! The Senate consists of two senators from each state, elected by the citizens of that state. Their term limit is six years and each Senator gets one vote in Congress. If a Senator dies or leaves office before their term is up, the Governor of their state can appoint a replacement to fill the vacancy.

18th Amendment: No booze. Sorry, wastoids!

19th Amendment: Women can vote now.

20th Amendment: This is a boring amendment about when terms for elected federal officials start and end. No one really cares about this amendment so you probably shouldn't either.

21st Amendment: Booze is back, bitchez! Bottoms up!

22nd Amendment: POTUS only gets a max of two four-year terms, thank God.

23rd Amendment: If you live in Washington, DC, you can vote for POTUS and Veep but you’re hosed in Congress.

24th Amendment: No poll taxes.

25th Amendment: This one is obscure but getting brandished a lot lately. It deals with the order of succession for POTUS and Veep and says Congress can impeach the shit out of a lunatic POTUS.

26th Amendment: Anyone over 18 can vote now (used to be 21).

27th Amendment: Serving in Congress isn’t supposed to make you rich. Emphasis on “supposed to.”



Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Bullies and Their Enablers: What Harvey Weinstein and the NRA Can Teach Women About the Power of Our Voices

This is a post about bullies and their enablers, and the power of women’s voices. Granted, it’s about two very different types of bullies and their enablers, but on closer inspection I think you’ll find they have something in common.

Bear with me.

The entertainment world was rocked this week by revelations that Harvey Weinstein, a powerful movie producer, spent his career leveraging his considerable influence in the film industry to sexually assault and extort sexual favors from Hollywood actresses.

The revelations were made via the New York Times’ good old fashioned investigative reporting: interviews and document reviews, which unearthed zero surprises to any woman who has ever been propositioned or extorted for sex by any man in a position of authority.

Mr. Weinstein of course denied criminal culpability (and arguably just pulled a Roman Polanski by fleeing the country). But he admitted to the behavior and gave the usual spiel that all the Harvey Weinsteins of the world do when their misdeeds and crimes finally—though sadly not inevitably—catch up to them:

He’s in therapy. He’s going to spend more time with his family. He’s taking a leave of absence “to deal with this issue head on.” He grew up in the 60’s and 70’s when times were different. He hired a woman to speak for him and tell everyone that he’s just “an old dinosaur learning new ways." 


M'kay. That's why T-Rex turned into a rapist and “some of his words and behaviors can be perceived as inappropriate, even intimidating.” It's all about perception, you see. In other words, gaslighting.

Too little too late. Mr. Weinstein's company fired him before he could check into rehab for exhaustion or stick to whatever crisis P.R. script he was following. A subsequent New York Times article described it like this:

Even in an industry in which sexual harassment has long persisted, Mr. Weinstein stands out, according to the actresses and current and former employees of the film companies he ran, Miramax and the Weinstein Company. He had an elaborate system reliant on the cooperation of others: Assistants often booked the meetings, arranged the hotel rooms and sometimes even delivered the talent, then disappeared, the actresses and employees recounted. They described how some of Mr. Weinstein’s executives and assistants then found them agents and jobs or hushed actresses who were upset.
Now let’s rewrite this paragraph as follows, in a different context:
Even in an industry a country in which sexual harassment a slavish devotion to weapons of all kinds, no matter how deadly, has long persisted, Mr. Weinstein the NRA stands out, according to organizations like Everytown for Gun Safety—a merger of Mayors Against Illegal Guns and Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America, and elected officials. the actresses and current and former employees of the film companies he ran, Miramax and the Weinstein Company. He had The NRA has an elaborate system reliant on the cooperation of others: Assistants often booked the meetings, arranged the hotel rooms and sometimes even delivered the money talent, then disappeared, the organizations and some elected officials actresses and employees recounted. They described how some of the NRA’s lobbyists Mr. Weinstein’s executives and assistants then found them agents and jobs and helped them get re-elected or hushed families of shooting victims actresses who were upset.
A day after Sandy Hook, Shannon Watts of Indianapolis, Indiana founded Moms Demand Action. If her twitter account is any measure, the level of abuse she endures from the NRA and its cheerleaders is legion. 

The New York Times' exposé of Mr. Weinstein—and an end to his reign of sexual terror—would not have happened without the courage and participation of his female victims in outing him. 

But the abuse also would not have happened in the first place without his enablers.

90% of adult rape victims are female and 82% of all juvenile victims of rape are female, while the perpetrators of sexual abuse are usually—though not always—male. Perpetrators of mass shootings are overwhelmingly male. As of 2013, the NRA’s board of directors was 87% male.

In these two seemingly different scenarios, there are are three common denominators: (1) male bullying and aggression; (2) its enablers who are often motivated by a toxic combination of fear and greed; and (3) women’s willingness to fight back—and to keep fighting—in the face of even further bullying, abuse, silencing, and discrediting. 


My point is this:  Bullies like Harvey Weinstein and Wayne LaPierre do not work alone. They are enabled by people—their debtors or their hired guns--whom they threaten, belittle, pay to make excuses for them, and who stand to lose money and power by falling out of favor with them. 


And to be perfectly clear, a bully's enabler should not be confused with his victims--who are often overwhelmed by their attackers and abusers and may never feel emboldened to come forward.

Without enablers and left to their own devices, most bullies eventually lose their grip of power and control. And without women, that power and control is rarely--if ever--challenged or called into question at all.

Women, keep fighting.



Monday, October 9, 2017

Winter is Coming ...

Hark! Winter is coming, and the snow in yonder mountains drifts ever-downward toward our humble lodgings. 

As termination dust blankets the distant ranges somewhere afar in the Territory, so too must our preparations for the cold, hard months ahead begin in earnest. 

'Tis a grueling labor simply to prepare for winter's veil to descend upon us here on the Last Frontier, and requires of our small family much due diligence and industry.

First, we must ensure that we are on the schedule for the propane delivery guy and that we have in our possession a cord or two of dry (or at least not damp) wood. 

We will also require amongst our provisions a half pound of bacon, three sacks of dried beans, a saddle, and some empty Cheez-It boxes and egg cartons from Costco to fuel our iron stove.

Next, we must take a full accounting of our winter raiments: snow-pants, boots, long underwear, waterproof mittens, and the like. We must with a keen eye determine what of these items is too destroyed from last year to use again, and/or which may no longer fit our growing youngsters and/or be subject to L.L. Bean’s lifetime guarantee.

We then must make a timely audit of our bank accounts on the internet, and from there begin the arduous yet rapid process of divesting ourselves of our recently acquired Permanent Fund Dividend checks in order to replace the aforementioned too-small raiments or otherwise seek out deals and steals for these items and promptly give the entirety of the remainder of our PFDs to Eaglecrest Ski Area.

Our conveyances, too, must be properly secured for the difficult journey ahead. 

We must forthwith appoint ourselves to Capital Service and see if they have the one extra snow tire we need in stock in order to properly balance the other three on the Subaru so as not to wreck the transmission and see if we can remember where we put the other set of snow tires which are so crappy we need to replace them but oops our PFDs are all gone so I guess not!

Word has reached us from NOAA and our one friend who studies glaciers that this winter is going to be a doozy but no one really knows if that's true or not because sometimes they say it's a doozy and it's just rain and other times there's so much snow our driveway becomes invisible until April.

Which brings us to the final and most important decision to be reached as the days shorten: shall we engage the services of a plow guy? Or finally fix the snow blower and do it ourselves?

God willing I shall have the answer soon, should Divine Providence see fit to let me live to make a record of the coming winter...



All Hail Rep. Steve Scalise and His Unwavering Principles

Guys. Guys guys guys. 

If it’s one thing I respect, it’s a man who stands up for his principles, even after being shot in the hip and having his life saved by a black lesbian despite spending his whole career denigrating the Blacks and the Gays.

That’s why I was I was heartened to read that even after surviving a mass shooting during a Congressional baseball game, Louisiana Rep. Steve Scalise has remained staunch in his opposition to the most minimal forms of firearms regulation that even the NR-fuckin’-A supports; and that best of all, he will be speaking at the Value Voters Summit sponsored by the Family Research Council.

The Family Research Council has been labeled a hate group by the reputable Southern Poverty Law Center because of its unabated attacks on LGBTQ people and its links to white supremacy—including Rep. Scalise himself—who bee-tee-dubs refused to recognize MLK day and described himself as “David Duke without the baggage.”

M’kaaaaaaaaaaaaay.

So what if Crystal Griner—a married black lesbian police officer—took a bullet in the leg for this man and literally saved his life? Who cares? One thing has nothing to do with the other!

The fact that he’d be six feet under if not for Officer Griner shouldn’t stop Rep. Scalise from continuing his impassioned, noble life’s work of slandering the humanity of the woman he called “part of his family.” 

I mean—right?

Family Research Council president Tony Perkins celebrated Rep. Scalise’s healthy return to for-profit homophobia by noting in a memo that the Congressman’s miraculous recovery will “literally take center stage, as Steve makes a return to the biggest gathering of pro-family conservatives in the country after a shooting that rocked the country.” Because, “for so many Americans, seeing him back at work, defending our values, has been an answer to prayer.”

I for one am looking forward to Steve's speech on lucky Friday, October 13.

Yes.

Thank the Lord our prayers were answered and that this class act didn’t let the fact that he almost died from gunshot wounds in the arms of a black lesbian stop him from Stanning David Duke and shilling for an organization that claims the woman who saved his life is harming society at large and that her very existence is “associated with negative physical and psychological side effects.”

It’s not every day that America is treated to an example of such unwavering character and principle. We could all stand to learn a lesson in morality from Rep. Steve Scalise.