Archive for September, 2011

Never give Russian/Mongolian girl a glock???  ( i do have great hair thou…)

Why yes, I DO look like an anime character, wait til ya see me with the AK!


(and admit it, you envy my hair…)

this gal.  She may or may not have a rep for settling things with her fists, she may or may not have a record.  You hear that she and some friends, all gals too, of varying similarity to her- from very to not at all- decided to go out for a gals nite; have a beer, listen to some music, maybe play some pool- low key things of that nature.  Whilst out said gal is hit on by someone.  This someone is not polite about it and will not take no for an answer, even puts their hands, uninvited, on this gal.  So she decks ’em.  Hard.  Like possibly police involvement hard. 

Did the person deserve it?  The getting decked?  Yes or no?


Okay, now, say the person who got decked by said gal also happens to be a woman?  Of the lesbian variety.  Does this change things?

And then tries to have not only assault but gay bashing/hate crime charges brought up on said gal.  What then?

Said gal counters with sexual battery charges, everyone walks away clear….

Now, lets change it up a bit.  The  folk out for the evening are dudes.  Of any color or class or mode of dress or what have you.  And one of these straight boys is in the same situation and reacts the same way.  Does that change shit? 

I don’t think it does at all in my opinion.  My opinion is as follows:  Unwanted sexual advances, be they made by straight folk or  gay folk are JUST that, and just as I would oh, stand up for or cheer on a gal who decked a dude who pulled that shit….I’d prolly be on the side of ANY person, regardless of sex or sexual preference, who stood up to, even decked, someone who was making unwanted sexual advances on them- and I sure as shit don’t believe them doing so is a hate crime.  A pack of sneo-nazi skinheads beating up a gay person or a person of color just because they are gay or not white?  Hate crime.  A pack of gangbangers beating up a gay person or a person of a different color just because of that?  Also a hate crime.  Hell, ANYONE beating on anyone “just because they are – insert color, gender, sexual preference, so on- hate crime….

Someone decking someone else, gay or straight, because they are making unwanted sexual advances?  Not a hate crime.  Period.  And any scum ass douchebag who tries to pull the hate crime shit on that sorta thing?  Totally deserves gettin’ decked a few more times.

Television.  Yep, I watch it.  My favorite shows currently are “Breaking Bad”, “Top Shot”,  and “Sons of Anarchy”….and well, I do love Investigation Discovery…the whole channel.

But anyway, I found myself catching up on AMC’s “Breaking Bad” today, which really is a phenomenal show.  Walter White, Chem Teacher with Cancer goes criminal?  Yep, good stuff.  Giancarlo Espisito (or however ya spell it) has been an excellent addition to the cast- I mean, there is one slick, smart dude who knows how to carry a grudge and patiently wait for revenge, but as the show has gone on, I have come to the conclusion that Walt – who we feel bad for or like early on- is a selfish fuckin’ asshole, his wife ain’t much better, and Jesse Pinkman, who initially comes off as an obnoxious moron…RULES.  Which, speaking of Jesse Pinkman…

On the recommendation of some of my friends, I watched that show “Weeds” off of Netflix, which is a Shotime effort, and the story centers around House Mom Nancy Botwin who goes into the pot selling (then growing) business after her husband dies young and unexpectedly.  It was one of those ones I had to force myself through for really about an entire season before I got into it or even liked it at all, and stopped watching it as soon as she ended up preggers (several seasons later) by the Mexican Drug lord…by then, even my suspension of disbelief was shot…and frankly, unlike “Breaking Bad” where there are some non-assholes in the character line up…in “Weeds” everyone is a prick.  They are these annoying cookie cutter bullshit Cali types and just…ugh.  Hell, I wanted bad shit to happen to all the characters…where as with Jesse- – I am rooting for him- even if he thinks he is a bad guy.

So, I have decided, politically un-correct or sexist or whatever the hell else ever, I want AMC and Shotime to do a cross over, where Jesse Pinkman traverses over to “Weeds”-land and…kicks the snot out of Nancy Botwin…is that so wrong?

“Yay Science!”

Odd title, yeah?  Well, I reckon it’s gonna be an odd post so it seems fitting.   In any event, let’s get on with it.

So yeah, I grew up a poor white kid.  I’ll prolly lay on some more detail with that in a later post, but I’ll go ahead and get some basics outta they way here first.  I spent the early part of my life- first 15 years or so- in Colorado.  We lived near the very edge of the Denver City line, not in the downtown area, but not Suburbia either, kinda out there off  I-70.  Like a block from the highway.  Not much out there at the time really…some houses, a couple factories, things of that nature.  We did have trees though, old ones even!  Anyway, we lived the four of us in tiny ranch style house, 2 bedrooms, one bath, living area, kitchen.  That was pretty much it…and bars over the windows.  No AC, which believe it or not, it does get hot in Colorado, and heat that worked sometimes.  Electricity paid sometimes.  No fire place.  I know the unfathomable joy of government cheese.  Clothes that did not fit right cause they had belonged to my older brother- whom I shared a room with- first.  My uncles often had them before him.   Sharing a room was never one of those things I thought of as kinda odd until later.  Privacy is one of those things folk who do not have much in the way of money do without, and get used to.  Oh, and plastic bags rubber-banded over your tennis shoes in winter, because actual boots are not things you had.  We went to the doctor for yearly school mandated check-ups that the school charity programs helped foot the bill for otherwise something had to be obviously broken, you were bleeding profusely, or you were spikin’ one hell of a fever.  I broke 8 fingers that were never set and remain crooked to this day, and I was 17 the first time I ever saw a dentist.  Medical Emergency meant just that.   So yeah, there are some basics.  Thing was, in my neighborhood, all the kids were like that, and we all knew the same drill.  You carried around extra rubber bands in case your friends broke mid snowball fight, and you expected if you were over at a neighbors house, you might be leaving your coat on because it was likely they might not have heat either.  It’s just how it was…and we all knew it.   We all, in my neighborhood, knew that Mr. Kowalski, who lived across the street from me, had an ex-wife who never came around, a new wife who was about the same age as his oldest daughter and did not ever seem to come outside, and when she did, she had sunglasses on even when there was no sun.  His dogs were mean, and when he was really lit, he’d fire guns in the air.  We all knew that the lot down by the highway overpass was a good place to toss around a football, but you were gonna risk broken glass and other kinds of trash and debris to play there.  Hell, most of our first exposure to condoms was kicking used ones out of our lot.  And as it was, all of us, the kids in that neighborhood, we accepted that’s all there was and for a time, none of us knew any better…and we were, looking back on it, probably pretty content.  We had fun.  We did things like normal kids do; built forts, played games, explored drainage ditches we were told to stay out of,  set off M-80 fireworks and managed to keep all our fingers, talked about the Local Sports Teams, had snowball fights, even had birthday parties where presents like coloring books and matchbox cars and things of that nature were a big fuckin’ deal.   Most of us knew what it was like to have one or more unemployed or seemingly always looking for work parents, and at least one relative who was doing time for something.  And yep, sure enough, all the kids in my neighborhood were white kids.  We also fought, the girls and the boys alike.  Someone disrespected someone else’s parents or family?  Yep, fists would fly.  Someone picked on someone else’s siblings?  There was a kick coming for them.  Someone chanted or jeered at you?  You answered that with a punch.  It didn’t happen often, but it happened enough that unwritten rules of conduct were written amid us, rules we’d prolly picked up from parents who would do the same, and that was the way of our world…and not a single one of us figured anyone else’s world was much different.  Until we went to school that is.  Then we all learned the world, that big bag huge wide place past the highway and our neighborhood, was a vastly different and not everyone lived like we did or by the same unwritten rules.  When the school day ended and we came home, it was game on, life as usual, but there was not a single one of us who returned home with the impression that our world was the whole of the world, and we all learned quickly that kids like us, with families like ours?  Well, we weren’t looked too highly upon, not at all, and any expectations of us?  Well, they were pretty bad.

And I will admit, without much shame and without much pride, I lived up to those bad expectations.  My brother?  In those days he was without a doubt the tough one, but in a non-traditional sense.  People made fun of him for certain, but rather than fall to the bait, he made good grades, developed an amazing wit and sense of humor, and managed to be everyone’s friend.  And for a guy who, at the time, was the short, fat kid with a bad limp from a dog attack and hand me downs and rubber bands around his tennis shoes, this was no small feat.  Me?  I kinda went the other way.  I got in fights, I flunked classes, I got suspended, I did not make friends.  I got told I would be dead, a junkie, or in prison by the time I was seventeen.  And once told that, by a teacher no less…I sorta did my damnedest to live up to such low expectations.  Hell, the other girls got told they would get knocked up and be married to a dude who kicked the snot out of ’em by seventeen.  I did not rate that prediction.  I rated true low life, and well, if enough people tell you something, you start to believe.  I was out and away from the strange but comfortable coccon of my neighborhood, and well, white kids in Denver at the time, especially white girls?  We don’t rate gangs, unless they are Neo-Nazi ones (which, uh, no).  I saw how other people lived, what they had, and learned really, really early on what they thought of people like me, how they treated us, and what expectations they had of us, so I decided long about second grade, if folk were gonna think the worst of me…I might as well give them reason.  And I sort of did.  Thing that was funny was, well, I did not suck at sports.  I may have gotten in fights every other day (I did make the mistake of popping a girl who made fun of my clothes straight in the mouth, never knowing she was the daughter of my schools Vice Principal), and I may have barely managed a D in any subject other than Gym or Art…but yeah, I did good at sports- which cut me a lot of slack, even as a white female, and I admit that.  But that sorta thing?  That’s a double edged sword.  A whole lotta people have asked me over the years how I could stand using my body, like in the sex industry sense, to make a living.  My answer?  Hell, I been using it since I was 8 in one form or another to get by- from school sports to sucker punches to stripping…it’s been my way.    But unlike my tougher in a non-traditional sense older brother, whom I kicked asses for and he made me laugh when I thought I had forgotten how to…that realization, that me, my family, my life, my neighborhood, was vastly different from the rest of the world and the way people viewed us was bad?  That had a very, very profound effect on me.  He rolled with it and shrugged.  Me?  I got mad.  Very, very mad.

So, as fate would have it, and for reasons I ain’t gettin’ into here, me and my family?  We ended up moving to FL.  Much bigger house, first one my folks ever owned, bought real cheap because the previous owners?  Double murder suicide.  The room that would be mine was the one where the suicide happened….dude offed his wife and sister in law in the guest bedroom then did himself in by the closet of my room.  And we got to clean that shit up.  That sorta…does something to you, I think.  But for me, FL was a new start; new not quite so trashy neighborhood, nicer (once it was “fixed up”, in countless ways) house, more multi-cultural, all that…and I was pissed off and mad about it.  I actually, since it was a new start, and people did not know how it had been, started to work in school. Got better grades.  Made friends.  Fought less.  Made it to seventeen without being dead, a junkie, or in prison.  Or even knocked up and married to a wife beater.  But I still had a lot of hate, a hate on for people who disdained people who came up like me, just because.  I still didn’t have money, a car,  the right clothes, (a dentist), and all that shit other people had.  Add that to plain old teenage angst and bullshit? Uhh, yeah….So sure enough, I did some crazy shit…went places I shouldn’t have, hung out with people I shouldn’t have, did shit I shouldn’t have….because as truth had it, I did not give a shit about anything other than proving “those people” wrong, or right depending on my often fluxing teenaged moods .  I had a 4.0 by age 16, I also felt no compunction about breaking already crooked fingers on someones face for calling me various names, white trash among them.  And then I noticed something….

The rich kids? The really rich kids in my school?  They were JUST as fucked up as us poor kids were.  They had more shit, and could afford better drugs, and could do crazier things like jet to the islands for spring break, but they were JUST as off, for different reasons, as myself and other kids like me were.  The girls weren’t as overtly violent or hostile, but they still wanted to die, a little bit.  They’d  get drunk and drugged up and do anyone who looked at ’em like they were pretty.  They’d puke to stay skinny.  They’d cut themselves up so daddy would pay attention.  They’d fuck bad boys so Mommy would notice them and tell ’em they deserved better.  They’d crash their sweet 16 BMW’s because they had no appreciation for work.  They’d pick fights with girls like me, and they’d pick fights with boys like me and expect whoever had fucked them last would step in to save them.  Which, I will say, having been in a row or twelve in my time with males, I never once believed, and still don’t today, that if you raise your fist in anger to a male that he won’t hit you back.  Me and mine, we felt like we had to fight and fuck up because, well, we had to or were destined too…I never got why they felt that had to.  I mean, after all, every time they did, the expensive lawyer or expensive rehab place or whatever would sweep in and save ’em.  Johnny with Cash got a DUI at 19?  It never fucked up his chance for college.  Danny with the Cash date raped a girl at 16? Same story.   Seventeen year old Debbie with the High Income Parents? She could be shooting smack between her toes and hit the nice facility and she was “at an elite modeling camp”,  Tara , at 18, with the trust fund who got knocked up?  She had received early admission to college!  The rules were different…but these rich kids had a hate on too.  They hated being…bored.  They hated being….saved.  Shit they had been able to count on, shit I would have loved to have, they hated.  And shit that I had…the friends in low places and crooked fingers, teeth and grit?  They wanted.  But most of all, a lot of em?  They seemed to envy my drive, drive that I had because I had it, and not because my parents TOLD me I’d have it.  And I envied them cause when they went home, they knew there would be food on the table and the power would be on and if they got sick, they would be able to go to a doctor.  And well, when they felt like slumming, I was good enough, but otherwise?  Well, I never once got invited to the big nice house or birthday party of a fellow girl jock I told was pretty and she did not need to puke to be that way and her boyfriend was an ass for hitting her and I’d arrange (and did) to have his ass kicked.  Chips are  down?  You went to kids like me.  Life was good, we did not exist.  Hell, I got the distinct honor of being the girl guys dated not because I would put out, but because *I* would piss off their parents….

But sure enough, that odd drive of mine sent me to college.  I was, in my family, the Great White (trash) Hope.  Finished High School with the 4.0, the scholarship, the whole fuckin’ shit, right down to the bad teeth and crooked fingers.  First one of my Entire Family to Make it to the Four Year Show, with honors.  And that is where I really saw it…rich kids with everything who wanted oblivion, and they all managed to find kids like me who had kissed oblivion and had its phone number.   Drugs, Booze, Sex, Low life folk, they wanted it all….they wanted the dirt.  And a lot of them, they didn’t care if it killed them. They’d fight, they’d get alcohol poisoning,  they’d O.D. and fuck anyone and they always knew Someone Would Save Them.  But I honestly think, half the time they didn’t want anyone to.   They’d think it was cool that I HAD to work two jobs they’d NEVER do, stripping and painting the outside of houses, and sometimes a third, takin’ tickets at the local movie theater, just to put a dent in my bills.  It was…edgy.  The fact I took speed to get shit done 22 hours a day and they took it for fun and I knew where to get it….that showed me a whole lot…

Kids like me?  We wanted to die a little bit because hey, it would make shit easier.  Less financial strain on our families, less pain, less being used and mocked and treated like circus freaks and oh so convenient.  Odd enough, most of us are too mean, hard, broken and yep, determined to die.  Bored American Nobility?  Hell, they wanted to die because they were….bored.  And their rat race is way worse and its one not any of ’em, male or female, can ever win.  I may envy them to this day for some shit…but I also kinda pity ’em for that.  And odd enough?  Poor kids can’t ever trust anyone cause they never know who is real and merely likes them for them.  Rich kids?  Same thing.  And that is enough to make anyone want to die a little bit.

But if you bet  for one fuckin’ second I have ever forgotten who I am, what I have seen, what I have lived, what I know, and who I am?  You better be ready to pass over a pair of snake skin boots.  After all, I lived, even if I did wanna die, just a little bit.   But you know, I swore to myself, after my second grade teacher told me I’d be a junkie, dead, or in prison, that after I got that goddamn degree I was gonna go back to Denver, find her, and put her in the ER after I showed her the piece of paper.  I didn’t.  And not just because I fear prison, but because I am a better person than that.  She might have even deserved it…but maybe she too, just wanted to die a little bit.


Now see, I may not agree with this kid, I for one, don’t think homosexuality is “wrong”.  I don’t much think right or wrong about it at all, it just is, like hetrosexuality just is.  However, what happened to this kid? That I think IS wrong.

(One Crackers Humble Opinion)

Okay, I am sure this seems all ironic and hypocritical and all those good things since I am ranting endlessly about how one should not rag mercilessly upon Hillbillies, Hicks, Rednecks and White Trash (henceforth HHRWT), but face it, to some degree ragging on those different from one’s self is natural, and besides, hipsters are sooo coool they wouldn’t even care if some beneath them HHRWT was ragging on ’em anyway, right?  And I won’t be completely merciless…or maybe I will, not sure yet.  I do also realize that there are plenty of folk who already rag on hipsters.  Why yes, they do take their fair share of picking on, but often times, unlike HHRWT, the reasons they get picked on are largely within their control.  And believe it or not, Hipsters and HHRWT do occasionally have a few things in common: namely tattoos, cheap beer, and looking like they just rolled out of bed regardless of the hour.  Now, tattoos are a universal right for all humans in my opinion.  However, HHRWT drink cheap beer because it is cheap.  Hipsters do it because it’s cool, and even pay premium beer prices for it!  Also, you will generally find that HHRWT-when they look like they just rolled out of bed in the morning- rumpled clothes, messy hair, scruff on the men and screwed up make up on the women, its because they have just in fact rolled out of bed, regardless of the hour of the day.  Hipsters, males and females alike, will actually spend hours and exert amazing attention to detail to get that “I spent no time and put no effort into ‘This Look’  look”.  It’s amazing really.  I can look hungover and dishevelled real easy, so it stuns me when people put a whole lotta time and effort into it, and hipsters sure do!

Now, aside from the effort put into the no effort look, there are several other things I have found to be distinctive traits amid the Hipsters of the World.  They like bags.  Often ugly yet expensive bags, and carry them around almost constantly.  The men and the women.  Now, I know non-hipsters who do this too, but usually the bags are smaller and much cheaper, or not bags at all, but rather tool kits or tackle boxes.  Oh, and the occasional gun case.  Often in the bags, one finds an odd assortment of stuff, from cell phones to some off beat book of poetry to string to art supplies.  But yeah, sure enough, Hipsters love their bags.  They also dig skinny jeans, once again, men and women alike.  Those tight little things with low waists and narrow legs and shit that makes me wonder what the heck they would do if they got into a fight or had to run away from one.  Hipsters also tend to be big into music, but it often doesn’t matter if it is good music or not, so long as no one else has heard of it, and the second other people start to like it, its not cool anymore, or well, the hipster is cooler because they heard it first.  That attitude also applies to film.  They like floppy hair, like hair in the eyes at all times looks like it would drive me utterly crazy cause It’s Touching My EYES kinda hang in the face.  And mustaches, little  thin ones, a lot of hispter dudes have and like those…oh, and tend to blame HHRWT for making goatees uncool.  I  find it ironic that they tend to think they are ironic and pretend/put on this whole jaded or bitter  facade thingy because its cool, when in truth, a whole lot of ’em have never seen any sorta shit that should ever lead them to that sorta jaded/bitterness.  Then they bluster in that cool hip way about how a lot of folk who do actually have reasons to be jaded or bitter yet take it stoic or put a humor spin on it are “the real”  poseurs.   (Real poseurs, hahaahah). I have run across a few who find art made from human waste or bodily fluids-no matter how bad the art is- good, and think anyone who photographs a fucked up human body is edgy…yet none who have ever actually worked in the fields of medical examination, funeral homes, or crime scene clean up.   They are all about the liberal arts, tend to be iconoclastic towards anything that isn’t theirs- but tearing shit down takes sooo much effort- and are often very concerned with social issues…but I have yet to see one at any volunteer gig I’ve ever done.    They will rag on people who shop at Walmart, yet I wonder how many of ’em are wandering around in “cool shit” they found in a thrift store that has been donated by some HHRWT- who bought it at Walmart.  They are enviro-friendly and many are vegan-non-gluten-skinny folk, who like…PBR.   Some assume basic manners, like saying excuse me after burping or farting, are social constructs for other humans and they need not engage in such oppressive behaviors.    Oh, and I know for a fact that some of them like the idea of slumming in dive bars, so long as it is a “nice” dive bar in a not really dive-y area, because I made the mistake of taking a crew of people that included a few hipster girls who said they wanted to go to a dive bar to a REAL dive bar in a not fake dive neighborhood and they were NOT happy with me.   I guess the actual sawdust on the floor was more than they were expecting….we ain’t been drinkin’ together since…

…So yes, as  you can  see, there are plenty of reasons I can find to rag on hipsters, but, let’s get down to it:  The One Thing any HHRWT is going to take in consideration when it comes to choosing company to keep…who do you want on your side in a fight?  Or more specifically, if one is choosing between HHRWT or a Hipster, who do you want on your side in a fight?  Well…lets ponder that.  I want you to close your eyes and imagine, perhaps after drinking too much cheap beer with either sort, trouble happens.  Its not your fault, or maybe it is, but yep, for some reason, from Bad Moon to Bad Mood, there is gonna be a rumble.  You look around, and you have a few choices in who you can grab to have your back, or better yet, step in front of you, so who do you pick?

To your left, you have this guy.  To your right, this other guy.  See, first thing I note is actual muscle tone, which hey, muscles are handy in a fight.  Second thing?  Foot wear.  Boots are always good in a fight.  Also, you know, with the redneck guy there?  No one is gonna be able to choke him to death with his own bag strap, he obviously doesn’t mind getting dirty, and well, prolly a little crazy, just judging from his recreational activity there.   Which one do you choose?  Hell, I know who I’d be pickin’, and I sure as heck know who I’d be more likely to wanna share a victory beer with, but that’s just me.  Which guy do you want helping you escape an ass-kicking?

But lets say that there are no dudes even to help you out here, hey, gender inclusiveness for the win here at my house, so yeah, no dudes around to help you out in this fight you’ve suddenly found yourself in the middle of, so you have to go with a female as your tag-team partner.  So, realizing there are no dudes and you have to go with a gal in this horrible affair, you once again look around and your choices are once again on the left and right.  Pick quick, cause you know, getting punched in the kidney hurts a lot.  Now see, there is a level once again of practical attire I seek when attempting to avoid an ass stomping.  Now sure enough, both these gals are in flats, but for some reason, I know, no question, who I am gonna grab in case of an emergency in a rumble if these are my choices.   I mean, the one gal, she’s not gonna wanna ruin, bleed on, or get that dress torn off, it prolly cost more than I make in a month after all, and well, glasses.  Always sucks to have those broken in a fight, and once again, the fear of bag strap strangulation.  That other woman there?  Far more practical clothing and obviously, she’s not afraid to kill shit.  So yep, I’d be takin’ my camo-wearing sister there, how about y’all?  Shoot, in fact, I pick her over the dude with the bag, frankly.  How about you?

Now, this is the point where my previous possible promise of mercy may fall short.  As you have perhaps guessed from this post and others around here, I am not over all a huge fan of hipsters, especially those who make fun of HHRWT.  And I am really, really not a fan of hipster feminist bloggers who act like class does not exist unless it suits them at the moment, and even amid those hipster feminist bloggers -there is one I dislike above all others I am familiar with, one who really can dish it out but not take it, ignores class when it suits them to do so, and endlessly pick on HHRWT because, well, its okay to do that.  A gal who has ragged, as a hipster feminist big time blogger and all, on everything to gals with fake tits to those who pose in playboy to those who are not young and cute and perky and such, and then has the nerve to get upset and huffy when people of the sort whom she rags on get pissed about it, and that gal?  Well, she might be named Amanda….so I ask you people, when in a mythical bar fight and all, and you got two choices, one a Hipster Big Time Feminist Bloggy Blogger with awesome creds who is just sooo smart and funny…and the other a mean little asshole of the HHRWT vareity.  Remember, a theoretical asskicking is on the line here….

Eh, I go with the cracker in the black cowboy hat and camo pants personally, cause well, I go with her every day and all, and well, she wears boots instead of sandals…and plus, cool shirt.  But yeah, I know who I pick for that sorta thing, you know, the sorta deal where you gotta know who has your back and will keep an eye out and stand up for you and defend ya and such- things that are far more important than lookin’ like you spent no effort and music and what’s art and what ain’t?   Sure as shit, I go with HHRWT, ’cause even if you do pick on them or mock them, they just might lend you a hand because you needed it or asked.  Hell, it’s in their nature.  It kinda has to be.

A Hipster?  Hell, not sure I would ever trust one to do that, have my back or care more about someone getting their ass stomped than their cool creds or clothes. I’m not sure its in their nature at all.  And that reason above all is why Hipsters should be targets for disdain before HHRWT.  We care about who and what we care about, even if it ain’t cool.

So, I was loungin’ in my modern den of inequity (firearms & liquor welcome!) furrowing my crooked eyebrows and cursin’ the government for makin’ cold meds that contain pseudoephedrine behind the counter, one box per customer and requiring of ID and leaving of address…because I actually have a goddamn cold, people…so being me I made someone else buy ‘em for me.  After all, with my burn scar, sketchy tattoos and such I don’t wanna be seen, let alone documented, buying shit that oh, one might use for the production of crank, and I came to a wildly profound realization:

Y’all are gonna be in for a real shocker here:

I am one pissed off, burned out, angry, disappointed and bitter gal-which you all knew already I reckon, but then I got to thinking about the why for of that- aside from just being wired that way and predisposed to it- and truth is, much of my…ahem…loathing of my fellow human, regardless of race, nationality, gender, sexuality, or religion…comes about from what many people would consider little nit picks but they really aren’t, and in my most recent and amazingly laughable and frustrating trip around blogland, I have come to the conclusion that there is shit that I figure needs discussing and no one else out there, not the big shiny blogs, not the hipster feminist blogs, not the cool kids smarter, better, richer and worldlier than you blogs, not the males dealing with gender stereotype blogs, are gonna do it.  So I guess I  have to.

And I can almost promise a lot of the shit I’m gonna say?  Well a lot of those who read here aren’t gonna like it.  But, interestingly enough, I got an email today from a fellow blogger who said she and another blogger familiar with me were discussing me and my blogging, and what kept them coming back was that even if they did not agree with me, or if I pissed ‘em off, or I was caustic and hostile or whatever the fuck other charming thing I might be… I was honest, called it like I saw it, remained consistent, and did not alter or change my views like some wishy-washy dish rag lookin’ to win a popularity contest.  And you know what?  They’re right.  Besides, I ain’t never won a popularity contest in my life and I reckon I am not about to start now. The simple fact is, I don’t much give a fuck if people agree with me or not, because you know-sometimes I am just right and like it or not, folk are gonna have to suck that up and deal with it. Like it or not.  I am not afraid to call it like I see it, so I will.  And I am not afraid to say shit other people won’t and in truth, I am sick to death of pansy ass whiners who dodge any topic or issue that is hard to deal with or unpopular and won’t take a fuckin’ stand because it might tarnish their gold plated liberal creds.  I am even sicker of folk statin’ shit like it is word one handed down from some omnipotent being and utter fact then refusing to be challenged on it.   I see so much holier than thou gender is bunk feministy uber academia liberalese wanna be genius bullshit out there that is missing so many basics it just makes me wanna puke…so fuck it.  I am done.  Done bein’ nice and civil and sugar coating shit.  Done with not challenging the way people think and see shit.  Hell, apparently I had a knack for that back at the old joint, so let’s see if I can kick folk in the grey matter with a verbal steel toed boot here.  I am done with makin’ shit easy and  the rest of that crap.  If people don’t want to think, they can go elsewhere, it’s that simple.  So, let’s get to it people.  Let’s get to the dirty business  that ain’t easy and popular, and lets start with the biggest Elephant in The Room: Class.

I hear you now, “here she goes again” but guess what?  Class is the one thing missing from just about every fucking discussion on every goddamn thing out there. People love to discuss and debate race and gender and sexuality and all those things but class?  Oh no, we can’t touch that one with a ten foot fuckin’ pole, at least not with any seriousness, and you wanna know why?  Because classism is a dirty, dirty topic for dirty, dirty people and holy shit, it just don’t affect women, or people of color, it can affect….anyone, and everyone, including…white folk, and…yep, white dudes!  And they are eeeevil, so everyone just brushes class and classism under the rug and leaves it pretty much out of any discussion about anything and by doing so manage to make themselves look like self righteous fools who believe in fairies. unicorns and that everyone out there has dreams of sugar plumbs and PhD’s and can afford one or both of them. 

Well, here is a little reality and hardline for ya, folks.  Class can and does affect people just as much as race, or gender, or sexuality or any one of those other things people love to discuss.  Just like other so called advantages in life, being of, from, or in a higher class strata makes life easier for you, and just like other disadvantages in life, being of, from, or in a lower class strata can make life harder for you, and all the shit that goes with it- all of it- can and often does erase other advantages lower class people have in life.  Point blank, right there, between the eyes.  If people think you’re trash, they don’t much care what color you are, what god you worship, what’s between your legs or who you prefer fucking.  They simply disdain you, regardless of any other adjective that falls before the word trash.

And how do I know this?  Well, I know it, just like I know the sun rises in the morning and oceans have tides and the V8, enviro-friendly or not, kicks ass, because I have seen it with my own eyes.  I know from that great bastard of a teacher: experience.  The truth of that has been shown to me, again and again and again, and like anyone, I find proof in repeated case studies and experiments and via facts in evidence.  And even amid the low class, there is one group, a sordid, unsavory subset worthy of nothing but contempt, mocking and disdain, and that group is low class white folk.  White trash.  The lowest of the low.  The last bastion of acceptable hatred, the remaining dregs of human scum it is sporting to make fun of, the one group of subhuman filth the New, Modern, PC World reckons it is okay to rag on; without shame, guilt, or repercussion.  Hell, its funny to pick on those sorts, all in good fun and edgy and shit.  Hillbillies, Hicks, Rednecks, Trailer Park Trash, White Folk of a low socio-economic stations, they are fair game, the men and the women alike, and you can see these pariahs lambasted in everything from high brow indy theater to kids cartoons, and its all A-Okay.  Some of the old Looney Toon’s episodes have been locked away forever because of their insulting racial connotations, but flip on Nickelodeon and sure enough, you will see parodies of poor white folk everywhere.  It’s okay to pick on them-even in front of children, some of whom may be “those people”.  Why?

Well, they are…gasp…white folk.  And white folk, well, you know, they are supposed to have it all: all that privilege and power and money, nice things and good educations and the best things in life because well, they are white folk.  If they are white and blue collar or even worse-poor, well shit, they must have…done something wrong.  Be off somehow.  Fucked up.  They must be…well, inbred or dumb or lazy.  They must be drunks or junkies or the products of poor breeding.  Or Irish.  They, those super privileged above all white people-especially the male ones- they are supposed to, by legend and the annals of the Oppression Olympics and by sheer force and determination, have it all.  The White Collar I Won the Game American Dream on a Silver Platter: a quiche (fixed by a domestic) in every oven, a BMW in every garage, a double mochachino in every hand, perfect partners and 2.2 children, headed for Harvard!  White people are…special and lucky and rule the world right?  So if they don’t manage to oh, have the right house in the right neighborhood with the right look and all that right stuff white people are fabled to have…well, then there must be something wrong with those under-achieving loathsome scum.  They must be deeply flawed.  If they live in crap neighborhoods in crap houses (or trailers) with crap jobs and crap lives and problems, well, they obviously failed at winning the white privilege game and thus they are: trash.  Go ahead and rag on them, because even with all that white advantage (especially the dudes) they still managed to turn their lives into a giant shit sandwich and they deserve it.  They have weird ways and don’t fit in with the little white li(f)e and aren’t special.  They, more than any other remaining group of people, are fair game for anyone and anything and no hit is below the belt.  Hillbillies and Hicks and Rednecks and White Trash are the perpetrators of hate speech and hate crimes, right?  They are never on the receiving end, right?

Bullshit.  Turn on your television, or radio, or go to a movie, or read a book, or look at a newspaper, or hell, think of every joke about West Virginia, Alabama, Ohio, Georgia, Nebraska, Wyoming or Montana you have ever heard.  If you actually want me to cite specific examples, I can and will do so…I am a bit of a stickler for that.  And as the New American Nightmare, a Hick who not only likes guns, but has college degrees, I will say this: Everywhere I look -when people are writing about power, or politics, or gender, or feminism, or the sex industry, or just about any other fucking subject on the face of the earth they almost always leave class out of it, and they avoid talking about classism and its affects on white people like a rat with a broken leg would avoid a starving rattlesnake.  No one discusses this shit in depth. No one wants to be “that guy”.  It is the great white elephant in the room. 

That fuckin’ elephant is lookin’ at me.  I guess I am “that guy”. It’s part of the reason I am in fact one pissed off, burned out, angry, disappointed and bitter gal.  And sure as shit, I am just getting started…

Coming Soon: “We as a Society Seek to Help our Most Disadvantaged Citizens – If they Look The Part”, “Modern Feminism is for Women who don’t Really Have to Work for a Living: A Personal Tale”,  “Why Hipsters Should Replace Hillbillies, Rednecks and White Trash as Acceptable Humans for Mocking” and “Poor White Kids & Bored American Nobility- They all Just Wanna Die a Little Bit”  (not necessarily in that order)

*and yeah, totally love my 2 am with a cold self portrait!

..when a post about my cat gets as much interest as my post about the Fed profiling people based on their goddang tattoos…..

just sayin’.  

wait till I really start to make folk think, people don’t seem to like that shit.



Posted: September 13, 2011 in Guns, Humans

As most of you know, I am a fan.  But, anyway, about a week or so back Vlad sent me a news article about a program where a community group buys back guns from the public…..but not real guns, and not from adults (a common program around the US actually-done by law enforcement), but toy guns from kids…they trade the toy guns for pizza and such.   You know, NERF guns and squirt guns and so on… because apparently even fake, neon yellow and purple toy guns are dangerous business….


Now, sure enough, I know folk who do not let their kids play with toy guns, or swords or any such thing for that matter.  No plastic green army men, no nerf sword and shield, no violent toys at all.  I suppose that is their right as parents, but hey, I buy into the forbidden fruit theory with kids and I reckon those kids who aren’t allowed those things at home jump at the chance to play with such things at their friends houses! And I remember when there was a huge move,  back in the day, to make toy guns look less realistic after some kid got shot buy the cops for brandishing one of them old skool water Uzi squirt guns- which you know, looked really REAL.  I actually don’t think changing the colors was a bad idea really.  I also know even replica/stunt / paint/ airsoft/ guns which do LOOK real often have a bright orange cap on em to distinguish them from the real deal…. (heh, ask Bullet Tooth Tony about that, he has a great speech on it), and frankly, all these little safety things that determine fake gun from real gun are good IMHO…


The idea that merely playing with squirt guns, ect.,  deadens kids to the realities of violence and gets them used to holding firearms?  Humm.  Kinda a stretch I think.  I can tell ya, all I gotta do is look out my front window to see a ton of happy, well adjusted kids, from super girly girls to rolly polly little wanna be tough guys runnin’ though the hose and having epic squirt gun fights and tossing water ballons  (those are next I bet, they get kids used to chuckin’ grenades!) and having a great old time in the dead of summer heat and I really, really doubt ANY of them will ever actually SHOOT someone with a real gun.  And these kids?  They are not uber yuppie kids of peaceniks either.  Plenty of gun owners in my neighborhood.  Hunters.  A couple cops.  Military folk.  All sorts of adults who have guns.  And you know what?

I am willing to bet cash money that ALL OF THEM encourage gun safety and the proper use of firearms and have been over the dangers and realities of guns – real ones- with their children 100 times and see that they keep the real guns safe.   And if their kids are old enough/interested in shooting? I bet these gun owning parents see that their children  know all the safety rules and are taught properly in secure locations and all that stuff that goes with being a safe, cautious, educated, and responsible Gun Owner.  Which is how ALL gun owners SHOULD be.  And THAT is what people and communities should be doing- IMHO- when it comes to educating kids about guns.

Hell, when I was 12 or so, I went hunting for the first time.  My family had educated me about gun safety and the proper way to use, load, hold, carry, and care for the rifle I was loaned for the hunting trip.  I also got to see, up close and personal, what a gun can do when it meets a deer.  And that was MORE than enough to show me  the truly lethal nature of the weapons we were using.  I never assumed for a second a human would fare any better than that deer did.  I also worked, for a time, in my late teens, in a morgue.  I got to see what guns can do to humans there too….and thusly, while I do like my guns, I have an ultimate respect for them and what they can do.  Now I may just be a hick and all, but that sure as shit taught me to respect and fear guns more than trading out a water pistol for a pizza and a new shirt.  I grew up around guns- not in a gansta laden neighborhood- but rather with a family and circle of friends full of hunters and law enforcement folk (well, okay, and few who had been on the wrong side of law enforcement) and WWII, Korea and Vietnam Vets and well, people who used but respected guns.  The respect part is the key part I reckon…and the part that should be taught.  THAT is what seems to be lacking when it comes to teaching kids about guns…and taking away toys that can provide a kid with hours of fun and recreation is NEVER gonna teach them anything about the realities of firearms and the respect they are due. 

As for people, kids, so on, becoming deadened to the realities of violence?  Well, that is a whole different post, and it’s in the works….


Posted: September 8, 2011 in Sharon

I reckon she knows she’s guilty of something….