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Sunday, January 22, 2017


In case you missed it, there was recently an election and a man was voted into the office of President.

Now, I am sure that it comes as no surprise that I tend to lean liberal.  Waaaay liberal.  As in, there's no leaning and I've already fallen over the wall into the water headfirst.  (For the record, not the wall that Trump wants to build 😉)  I am not one to argue much with people, as I tend surprisingly to be conflict adverse and a bit of a people pleaser.  It compliments my paranoia, anxiety, and the wall I've built up quite well.  (Again...not THE wall.  Apparently built by Schrodinger's immigrant...)

That being said...I need to get out some of my thoughts on words.  Someone told my daughter, "Trump isn't that bad.  It's just words he said."

Just words.  

Tell that to the grown men who sit in my office sobbing and tell me about how their mother used to scream at them that she wishes she hates them and wishes they were never born.`

Tell that to the woman who is trying to make sense of her relationship, when one minute her partner is calling her the love of his life and the next is giving her a fat lip.

Tell that to the child who was just threatened by his molester that if he/she tells, their perpetrator will hurt their family, or they will be responsible for breaking up the family, or that no one will believe him/her.

Tell that to the people who impeached Bill Clinton, for lying under oath.

Extreme examples?  OK, then.  Tell that to the women who are cat called walking down the street.  How do they know if those remarks were just "locker room talk" or if there is serious intent behind them?

Tell that to the three year old who innocently drops the F-bomb in front of your boss.  It's just words, right?  No need for correction here!

Tell that to the news reporter who gets in trouble for not using the word "alleged".

Tell that to the professors of the over-stressed college student who plagiarized a paper.

Just words, right?

The point is, words matter.  Trying to pretend otherwise is either foolhardy or an expression of privilege.  And when the words are coming from someone in a position of power, they matter a great deal.  Especially when those words tend to be backed up by actions.  Tweet much? 

Look.  I'm no politician.  I do not have the fortitude for it (despite my ongoing campaign on Facebook to be YOUR elected official, which I win by a landslide every election as 100% of zero votes is zero votes).  I do not have the knowledge of foreign affairs, the intricacies of government, or the ability to bite my tongue or moderate my words.  Though apparently that is no longer a requirement for the top office of this nation.  Ahem.  

It's not a matter of being a special snowflake.  (Admit it though, I totally am...)  It's not a matter of needing a "safe space" or being a crybaby.  It is a matter of the impact of words, and how they are used by people in power.  Both to uplift people and to break them down.  Gaslighting is powerful, sometimes more so than sincere positive affirmations.  And I am very afraid that the American public is being gaslighted.  

I do not condone the sometimes violent rhetoric and actions that are being used against our current president.  I have written before about the violence that is so prevalent in our society.  I also do not condone those who want protesters to stop being "crybabies because your candidate did not win", or whatever variation of that you want to toss in there.  It is a protected right to peaceably assemble, as is the right to vote and bear arms.  Why should it matter what those protesters say?

It's just words.

And therein lies the problem  Schrodinger's words.  Simultaneously meaningless and unimportant and an affront to a peaceful transition of power.

Sunday, January 15, 2017


Meet Gunner:

Why yes, he is a pit bull.  Feel free to judge away.  I would totally judge me too if I were you.

I really did not intend to get another dog so soon.  In fact, I kept telling Elizabeth that I was not emotionally ready to get another dog.  Though honestly, I'm not emotionally equipped for a lot of things, such as making sandwiches for lunches or figuring out how to accessorize an outfit, so trying my hand at raising another creature was enough to make me wish that my imaginary prescription for Xanax was real so I could in fact drink it down with some wine.

My friend, however, who has also lost her dog got a new one. (Side note: Spartacus was the first of four dogs within a block who died.  It was like some kind of bubonic dog plague hit our tiny village and killed off all of the senior dogs in the neighborhood.  More proof that 2016 was personally out to get me...)  I saw how well she did with her new baby, and since I can't pop out any more of the human variety and I was unsuccessful in convincing Charles that since I still have an ovary we should find a surrogate (that and the whole not being involved in people's toileting habits anymore thing is super exciting) getting a new puppy seemed to be rational.  I mean, I'm still involved in the toileting, but not quite as intimately.  Plus he was essentially housebroken when I got him, so there was that.

At first, Maximus was not too keen on the idea.  In fact, he was acting decidedly like a grumpy old man shouting at the neighborhood kids to get off of his lawn.  Deogie was mainly confused by Gunner trying to hump him occasionally.  Paybacks for you traumatizing the cat before she died, asshole.  Time you learned that no means no.  However, both have since gotten over themselves and have welcomed Gunner into the home with open arms.  It did require Maximus laying into Gunner at first and putting Gunner's entire head into  his mouth at one point...but they seemed to have worked it out and are on friendly terms now, I think.  At least, they keep sniffing each other's asses and I think that is how it works in the dog world.  Not 100% sure about that because I'm gonna go with if I were to try to sniff someone's ass to make friends with them, I would either end up with no friends or the kind of friends that run fetish sites on the Internet.

At least I am assuming that none of my friends run fetish sites on the Internet.  If you do, time to 'fess up, bitchez.  I won't judge.  It's hard to make a buck nowadays.  Hell, even the "can you hear me now" guy from Verizon turned to the dark side to pay his bills.

So we have a puppy now, and I get to train him and break him from all of his bad puppy habits and snuggle and cuddle.  I must admit, I am totally in love with the little fucker.  I've turned into one of those annoying people on Facebook who post a kajillion pictures of their animals or children (I already did the second, so now people are being inundated with Gunner pictures.)  Guess that makes me doubly annoying now but hey, if no one has taken Trump's Twitter away from him yet, I can post as many fucking pictures of my new puppy as I want AND write entire blog posts about him.  'Merica, bitchez!