Monthly Archives: March 2012

An Open Letter To Everyone Who Wanted Me To Write An Open Letter About Trayvon Martin


(and were ticked off/disappointed/confused by my apathy statement earlier.)

You wanted a rant — here ya go. First a caveat: The words “you” and “yours” are collective. I’m talking to everyone. If it doesn’t apply to you, then you’ve got no reason to be offended. If it does, well…

So, earlier today, I posted that I was…oh let me just pull the quote:

You know, over the last few days, I’ve seen some pretty stupid news items come through my Facebook feed. A 17 year-old boy armed with iced tea and Skittles being shot dead by a nutcase with a cop complex. A lame bumper sticker. Anything from Fox News. Several good candidates for YMBOC.

Now, I remember a time, not so long ago, when any one of these would have elicited a full-blown rant from me.  At one time, I could have written thousands of words on any of the above-mentioned topics.

And yet…

Yeah, I got nothin’.

It’s official folks: I am completely apathetic.

Some of you seemed to take offense to that statement, even though I went on to say:

Now, don’t confuse my apathy for lack of caring or concern. I do care, and I am concerned. However, railing about it just isn’t in me right now. It’s as if I’m in observation mode — just taking it all in, making notes as things unfold.

And observe I have. But I don’t think I’m seeing the same things you are.

Some of you seem to think I should be more outraged than everyone else about this because I’m black.

What the hell does that have to do with anything?Is there some special dispensation code I should be using to show the proper amount of outrage over an unarmed kid being shot to death by a racist prick?

Is it not enough for me to be outraged because I’m a mother?

How about the fact that I’m a human being?

But because I’m black, I’m supposed to automatically be especially outraged over this tragic event.

Bite me.

I Am outraged. It sickens me that in 2012, people are still killing people based on stereotypes, hate, skin color and ignorance. I’m sick and tired of always worrying that when my kids walk out that door, there’s a chance they might not come back.

But you know what I’m really sick of? As aggravating, frustrating, pathetic and sad as the Trayvon Martin situation is, it’s not the first. Today, it’s Trayvon Martin. Yesterday it was Troy Davis. Before that, it was Sean Bell. Before that, Emmett Till.

Don’t know who these people are?

Google is your friend.

And the real bitch of it is…

There will be another one tomorrow, and next week, and next month and next year.

Because you see, so long as people still see black males as “thugs in hoodies” and refer to them as “f****in coons,” it’s going to keep happening. Again and again and again.

And damn if I know how to stop it.

So, you’ll excuse me if once in a while I defer the need to express outrage to others who are just as capable of railing, ranting and raving as I am. Sometimes I just need to back off and be a part of the choir.

 

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Hello…my name is TC Quill. I’m Apathetic.


You know, over the last few days, I’ve seen some pretty stupid news items come through my Facebook feed. A 17 year-old boy armed with iced tea and Skittles being shot dead by a nutcase with a cop complex. A lame bumper sticker. Anything from Fox News. Several good candidates for YMBOC.

Now, I remember a time, not so long ago, when any one of these would have elicited a full-blown rant from me.  At one time, I could have written thousands of words on any of the above-mentioned topics.

And yet…

Yeah, I got nothin’.

It’s official folks: I am completely apathetic.

I don’t know if it’s the weather, the fact that things are going well for me at the moment (still working on trying to enjoy that!) or what, but I can’t seem to work up a good lather over anything.

Or maybe it that fact that nothing surprises me anymore.

A politician said something stupid. The hell you say!

Someone did something stupid/cruel/horrible to another human being. Yeah, what’s new?

And he’s going to get away with it! See my last response.

Racism is still alive and well in 2012! Uh huh. I know.

Out civil liberties are being stripped one-by-one. Uh huh. I noticed that.

See? Nothin’.

Now, don’t confuse my apathy for lack of caring or concern. I do care, and I am concerned. However, railing about it just isn’t in me right now. It’s as if I’m in observation mode — just taking it all in, making notes as things unfold.

Cuz, I might not comment on it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t see it or have an opinion about it. I  miss very little.

I’m sure one day, something will click and I’ll be outraged, ticked and ready to denounce someone or something. But until then, I’m just going to sit back and take it all in.

Apathy…it’s an interesting thing.

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Yeah and Meh…


The last few weeks have been challenging, and I’m not sure why.

I’ve pared down my client list to three clients I love, so work isn’t really a chore at the moment.

I’m making progress on my “Quest for National Publication,” so that’s good.

I don’t have any pressing issues, obligations or major things to worry about…so yay to that.

And yet…here I sit, uneasy about it all.

Maybe things are too easy…they’re going too smoothly.

I’m not used to smooth. I’m used to craziness, chaos, bedlam.

That I can do — I thrive on that.

But this…this is foreign to me.

Now, I know some of you are thinking, “Be glad it’s going smoothly, and enjoy it.” And, I know you’re right — I should be…

But I can’t. And I don’t know why.

And that bugs me.

But not enough to make me feel better.

And if you followed that, well, I don’t know whether to apologize to you or applaud you.

What does it say about someone who can’t be happy when things are going well?

Ok – that’s a bit of a reach. I’m happy…just uneasy about the happiness.

That doesn’t really make it sound better, does it?

I’m just more comfortable with chaos. I know what to expect with chaos.

I’d like to get comfortable with things going well…

I guess it will take practice.

Until then, I’ll just stress out about not being stressed out. That always makes me feel better.

Again — apologies and applause. 🙂

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Monday


I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with Monday. When I was still working an actual brick and mortar job, it meant the beginning of a new week of sucky commutes, impossible deadlines, dealing with clueless people, and answering to “superiors” that I didn’t like, and definitely didn’t want to help in any way , shape or form. Luckily for them, my work ethic trumped my disdain of authority, so I always did the best job possible, even though it was killing me inside.

Now that I work for myself, Mondays mean impossible deadlines, dealing with clueless people and answering to editors and clients that I don’t always like. Of course, in this case, making them look good makes me look good, so although they don’t always deserve it, I still do the best job possible. And right now I am fortunate that I actually like my current stable of clients, so that makes it easier. And obviously, I couldn’t ask for a shorter commute.

But Mondays are still sort of a letdown.

But today was a bit different. Since I charted my new course, I was actually anxious to get today started. I spent the first part of my day pouring over writer guidelines for several magazines. I’ve got them printed out and I’m reading over them along with several back copies. I also went through the titles of articles I’ve written for the content mills. Not that I can use those articles (and not that I’d want to. Some are pretty good, but the majority of them are “just the facts ma’am-type articles that would make a decent base for a real article, at best). But I did find five plausible ideas for pitches, so that was a good thing, and I still have a lot of articles to review, so I’m confident I’ll find more ideas stashed away.

While I was taking a break, I caved and checked out Draw Something. Lord love a duck, that game is crack. I don’t usually buy apps, but that one, yeah, I bought it. I’ve been playing it on and off all night.

And now, I’m working on by “bread and butter” client work. I have a hard time working on that gig during the day, so I’ve made a pot of coffee and now I’m about to knock out several hours’ of work.

Tomorrow, I’ll try my hand at my first query. I haven’t written one in ages — hope I still remember how. I’ll keep you posted. 🙂

New Directions


For the last few days, I’ve been contemplating my career and where I want it to go. As a writer, there are many avenues available to you — provided you are willing to do the work and learn that particular part of the craft. In my almost 20 years in this biz, I’ve tried my hand at fiction, journalism, article writing, column writing, copywriting, general writing (business plans, marketing plans, grants, white papers, etc.), content mills and web writing.  In other words, I’ve pretty much been there, done that.

Except for plays, movies and television scripts. But it’s on my list.

I’ve published a book, I’ve written an award-winning column and I’ve written things that brought me praise and criticism galore. I’ve written some things that make me cringe, and I’ve written things of which I am extremely proud. I have enjoyed almost every minute of my writing career.

But now I feel as if I’m at a crossroads. I love writing for a living, I really do…

But I don’t want to do it anymore. At least not how I’ve been doing it recently.

A friend gave me The Renegade Writer as a gift this past Christmas. I’m not a huge fan of how-to or self-help books — I’m a firm believer that the only way to learn to do something is by doing it. No book can replace the knowledge you gain from the “Nike” approach. The book has been sitting on the corner of my desk since the day I unwrapped it — but for some reason I picked it up and starting thumbing through it yesterday.

In each chapter, there are sections called “Break this rule.” I started reading those because, well, I am a rule-breaker.

It turns out that a lot of what they advise I’ve been doing instinctively for years.

Now, you’d think this would make me feel better. Make me feel like I’ve been on the right path.

Nope. It really made me sick to my stomach.

Cuz, the last few years, I’ve been ignoring my instincts in exchange for making a decent living. And now I wonder — if I had stuck to my path all those years ago, where would I be now? Would my byline be in Forbes, or Women’s Day or Inc.? It’s not even about the bragging rights — it just made me realize that as a writer, I could be so much further along than I am, and it’s hurts like hell that I’m the reason I’m not where I could be.

But that all changes tomorrow. I’ve still got a couple of steady clients that keep food on the table and a roof over my head, but I’m done chasing after more of their ilk. If I’m going to do this, I either need to go big or get the hell out of the game.  The publication studying and query writing starts tomorrow. My goal is to make it into a National magazine before the end of the year, if not sooner.

I’m going for the big time, folks. Wish me luck.

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Running Away From Home


Working from home definitely has its advantages. First of all, you can’t beat the commute. It takes me all of five minutes to get to work, and that includes a stop at the bathroom and the coffee maker. 10 if one of my dogs is tap dancing at the back door.

Then there’s the dress code. I do typically get up and get dressed (I usually take a shower before bed), but instead of dress slacks and a blouse, it’s sweats or shorts and a t-shirt, usually with a cartoon character emblazoned on the front. And no dress shoes — flip flops or cow slippers. I know the Fly Lady is frowning about that, but hey, slippers ARE shoes, and yes, sometimes I actually do wear them outside the house.

And let’s not forget about the hours. Wait, I actually work more hours now than I did at my last brick and mortar, but I LIKE what I do now, so it counts, yet it doesn’t. But then again, I can work pretty much when I want, so it’s still one more item in the “plus” column.

So, overall, working for myself from home is pretty awesome.

But sometimes…you just need to run away.

The last few weeks, my productivity has slowed, and not because of a lack of work. With each passing day, I’ve spent more and more time staring at a blank screen. Or I’ve been playing Hidden Chronicles. Or playing on Facebook. Anything but writing. I had deadlines looming, but I couldn’t get any real work done to save my life. I was facing having to do something I usually don’t have to do — ask for extensions.

So, yesterday, I decided that I was going to run away. I packed up my laptop, and headed for a new location. I was hoping a change of scenery would help.

And it did. I got more done yesterday than I have in weeks. And it carried over. When I finally came home last night, my productivity continued. I’m now pretty much caught up, and with tonight’s work, I’ll actually be ahead of my deadlines. Feels good. So good, I just might do it again tomorrow!

So, the next time you’re just staring at a blank screen, try moving that screen to another location. Try a coffee shop or McDonalds. Or the patio, weather permitting. Even moving to a different room in the house might be enough to get you going.

So, lesson learned: Exercise some flexibility. Remember that you can work anywhere. Staying chained to your desk flies in the face of working for yourself. Enjoy the opportunity.

 

 

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This Ain’t a Date — Pay Me!


Do I have you attention?

Good. 🙂

So, I got an email from one of my clients, one of the few content mills I still write for occasionally. They are revamping their site, and part of the overhaul includes writers updating their profiles. Okay, I can understand needing me to re-size a picture and explain my writing background. So, last week, I did that.

Today I get a followup email. They want me to “flesh out” my profile “so they can better match me to clients.” Oh, and they want sample articles for each area in which I write.

Um…I have three major areas of expertise, and  countless other areas where I can write with some level of authority (I think I counted 20 or so areas on their site). And you want me to complete a mini-profile for each other them.

Guys…it’s so Not Happening.

I’m not sure when this happened, but suddenly, sites want to know everything about you. I’m not willing to do that. This ain’t a dating site. I’m not trying to woo you, and I don’t want you to woo me, past giving me gigs and paying me. That’s really the extent of our relationship.

Want to know what you need to know about me? Here ya go:

My Name

My Resume

A couple of writing samples.

My PayPal email address so you can pay me.

This is what I need to know about you:

Do you pay?

How do you pay?

Do you pay on time?

Do you have work?

That’s it. This could be one of the least-complicated relationships either of us has ever had, and you want to go and ruin it by getting to know me. I’m afraid that if you insist on taking our relationship to the next level, I might have to rethink it.

I know you’re disappointed. But, it’s not you, it’s me.

Okay, it really is you.

 

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An Introduction of Sorts…


Over the last couple of days, I’ve been called quite a few things. Here are a few of my favorites:

  • Feminazi
  • Witty
  • Bleeding-heart liberal
  • Opinionated
  • Unfair
  • Eloquent
  • Unbalanced
  • Brilliant
  • Hateful
  • Sarcastic
  • Big-mouthed
  • Bitchy
  • Smart

I’m shocked “stupid” wasn’t bandied about, but hey, I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 🙂

Just for fun, and by way of an introduction to my new followers (Hello and Welcome!), I’m going to offer my opinion on each of these descriptions. Cuz, y’know, why not.

Feminazi – If refusing to remain silent while men wage war against women’s rights, shouting down loud-mouthed blowhards, and demanding that women have not equal but the majority say over what goes into and comes out of their bodies makes me a feminazi, then by God, I’ll carry the scepter, and wear the tiara and sash proudly while I take care of my family, build my career and have sex when and with whom I choose, thank-you-very-much!

Witty – Well, thank you. I’d say I try, but honestly, I have to try harder NOT to be humorous. That’s not meant to be conceited, I really have a hard time not letting some sort of humor leak into everything I write. When you write dry, boring copy for a living, fighting the urge to be (or attempt to be) funny is hard. That’s part of the reason for why I blog. *I* need an outlet. 🙂 Imagine a bowl of bran flakes….with a fruit loop in thrown in. Finish that joke however you wish.

Bleeding-heart Liberal –  Not really a fair assessment, and I will explain why later.

Opinionated – Gee…me? Nah, I don’t have an opinion on anything. And even if I did, I would never, ever deign to share it.

Unfair – I think that assessment is unfair. I try to show all facets of an issue before offering my opinion, unless the issue is so ridiculous that there is really no other facet to show other than the ridiculousness of the issue.

Eloquent – Thanks…I try! Not very eloquent, but heartfelt!

Unbalanced – Now see, I don’t know if the person who said this meant “unbalanced” as in only showing one side of the story, or “unbalanced” as in I need to be fitted for a straight jacket and prepped for a frontal lobotomy. Then again, it could mean both. But to quote Sheldon (from The Big Bang Theory), “I’m not crazy. My mother had me tested.”

Brilliant – Really smart? According to the tests, yes. Am I capable of moments of brilliance? Of course. We all are. But brilliant? Nah…I just know what my gifts are and try to use them to their fullest as much as possible. But thank you for the compliment!

Hateful – Nope. I’m not a hateful person. I don’t hate anyone or anything. Hate is a wasted emotion. You spend all this time hating someone, but you never tell that person why you hate them. So, they’re off living their life, smelling flowers and whistling a happy tune, and you’re curled up in the fetal position on your bed, suffering from migraines, ulcers and for the life if it, cannot understand why you’re leading a miserable life. What’s wrong with that picture?

Sarcastic – You must be new here. Cuz I can hide my sarcasm for about five whole seconds. It’s harder to control than my humor. Don’t believe me? Check out practically any other post on this blog — sarcasm enters around word 50 (sometimes earlier) and doesn’t leave until I end the post. But I really think I’m more snarky than sarcastic, but oh well, po-tay-to, po-tah-to. It was still a swing and a miss in the insult department.

Big-mouhted – I think this one is a bit off the mark, and really doesn’t make much sense considering this is prose and not spoken word. If I wanted to be a big mouth on screen, I’d have to TYPE EVERYTHING IN CAPS AND BOLD IT SO I’D BE SURE YOU SAW IT. I’D ALSO ADD SEVERAL COLORS SO EVERYTHING STOOD OUT, AND USE LOTS OF “!!!!” TO MAKE SURE YOU UNDERSTOOD MY POINT!!! 

But that’s not how I roll, so nah, wrong again.

Bitchy – Yeah, I can be. I don’t argue that. Matter of fact, I embrace my inner bitch. I wish more people would do that, there would be much less heartache in the world.  But I really believe I’m bitchy only when justified, and I don’t think I’ve been particularly bitchy in this blog. But I have had my moments. LOL

Smart – Yeah, okay. Thanks. 🙂

So, that’s what others think of me and how I feel about what others think of me. Now, here’s who I know I am:

I’m a woman with an opinion who is not afraid to express it. If I read, see or hear of an injustice, an act of stupidity or other uncalled for occurrence, I will drag it out of the dark corner where it is trying to hide and expose it for what it really is. I will defend the things I believe in until I’m hoarse and my fingers bleed. If you come at me, take your best shot, cuz when I fire back, I. Won’t. Miss.

I’m a liberal who believes that those in the position to help others, should. I also believe that once you’ve been helped, you need to move to the other side of the column and become a helper yourself. If you don’t — if you continue to seek help when you could do for yourself, or you refuse to help others as you were helped, you’ll have to answer to me. And you’d better have a damn good excuse.

I believe that if you don’t vote, you don’t get to bitch. Spare me the “my one vote isn’t going to make a difference”, “the whole political process is rigged” and “our voices aren’t heard anyway” mumbo jumbo. Even if any and all of that is true, our forefathers died so we could vote. If we end up in a situation you don’t like and you did nothing about it, other than complain that the system is broken, I don’t want to hear it. Move on.

I believe everyone should have the right to love who they want, and if they want to get married, they’re crazy more power to them. (Did I mention I’m divorced? lol)

I’m a writer, a designer, a mother, a daughter a sister and a friend. I love deeply and am loyal to a fault. I’m kind to furry woodland creatures, share my toys and color inside the lines (usually).

But most of all, I love being here. It’s beats the hell out of the alternative. I’d rather smell the daisies than push them up from the other side.

And that, ladies and gents, is who I am, or at least a brief synopsis. And that’s who writes this blog. I hope you’ll stick around and see what I have to say. I’m sure it will only get more interesting as the months progress.

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Wow…


You have all rendered me speechless. Almost. 🙂

As a writer, sometimes you like things you write, and sometimes you merely peck out what you can and hope it’s not the drivel you are sure it is. It’s the nature of the beast. There are three truths you quickly learn as a writer: #1 — Not everything you write is going to be brilliant. #2 — A writer is often his own worse critic.

But then, every once in a blue moon, you write something and you know it’s the best thing you’ve ever written. Something you are totally proud of.

Yesterday’s post was one of those moments.

However, even though as the writer, you love it; even though you want to print it out, put it in a frame and hang it on your wall, you still pause before you hit the submit button. Why?

#3 — Just because YOU love it, that doesn’t mean your readers will. And if they don’t love it…

Well, there really isn’t a worse feeling for a writer.

So you can imagine my elation and excitement when the comments and emails started rolling in about my post. I smiled with every comment, email, retweet and share.

I’ve been doing a lot of smiling.

So, thanks to all of you for showing my post so much love. To my new subscribers, welcome and I’m glad you’re here.  To my old fans, thanks for the support you’ve always given me. I will do my best not to disappoint.

When I started this blog almost a year ago, I really didn’t know what I was going to write about, or if anyone even wanted to read what I had to say. I just felt compelled to share. My outrage. My joy. My amusement.

Okay – mainly my outrage, but with a tinge of amusement thrown in, because quite frankly, if I couldn’t some sliver of humor in this world’s craziness, I’d be a quivering mass under a desk somewhere.

So, you can count on me to continue to shine light on the absurd, the ludicrous and the deplorable. I will continue to rail against stupidity and the wrongdoings of others. And I hope you stick around for the ride.

The trip’s a helluva lot more fun with someone riding shotgun. 😉

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An Open Letter To Rush Limbaugh


Dear Mr. Limbaugh:

So, you were forced to make an apology to Ms. Fluke and other women you insulted when you called her a “slut” and a “prostitute”. However, I have to take umbrage with several statements in your apology. In an attempt to be fair and balanced, I have included your entire apology in this post. I pulled it from the Huffington Post, I hope that doesn’t rankle you too much:

“For over 20 years, I have illustrated the absurd with absurdity, three hours a day, five days a week. In this instance, I chose the wrong words in my analogy of the situation. I did not mean a personal attack on Ms. Fluke.

I think it is absolutely absurd that during these very serious political times, we are discussing personal sexual recreational activities before members of Congress. I personally do not agree that American citizens should pay for these social activities. What happened to personal responsibility and accountability? Where do we draw the line? If this is accepted as the norm, what will follow? Will we be debating if taxpayers should pay for new sneakers for all students that are interested in running to keep fit? In my monologue, I posited that it is not our business whatsoever to know what is going on in anyone’s bedroom nor do I think it is a topic that should reach a Presidential level.

My choice of words was not the best, and in the attempt to be humorous, I created a national stir. I sincerely apologize to Ms. Fluke for the insulting word choices.”

Now, I could argue that your whole apology was weak, at best. And I could point out that the coercion is almost palpable. But, instead, I’m going to focus on three specific statements you made. And thank you for the expediency of making all three statements consecutively. This is the passage I’d like to discuss:

I think it is absolutely absurd that during these very serious political times, we are discussing personal sexual recreational activities before members of Congress. I personally do not agree that American citizens should pay for these social activities. What happened to personal responsibility and accountability?

Let’s break the statement down to individual sentences so each statement can receive the response it so richly deserves, shall we?

(And since you started your “apology” with the idea that you have “illustrated the absurd with absurdity,” I’m going to borrow from that phrase for just a moment.)

Absurdity Illustration #1: I think it is absolutely absurd that during these very serious political times, we are discussing personal sexual recreational activities before members of Congress.

Here’s a stat for ya, Rush: Men think about sex almost twice as much as women. Notice I didn’t trot out the “men think about sex once every seven seconds” urban legend. That’s a, well, absurd statement, and I don’t need to be incendiary or outrageous to make a point. (You should try that sometime.)  Don’t believe me? Check here, here and here. Also, men see sex more as a recreational activity than women (that point is also supported in the previously provided links). Republican congressMEN created a committee to discuss contraception, and refused to let women participate.

Believe it or not, I agree with you, Rush. It is absurd that a group of men decided to get together and discuss recreational sex. That should have stayed on the golf course, in the locker room, and around the poker table — you know, those other places men work to keep female-free. Here’s an interesting tidbit: when women get together to, oh I don’t know, make a quilt, discuss the latest book club selection or swap recipes, female contraception only comes up if someone’s having an issue “down there.” Otherwise, it’s generally not topic worthy.  Birth control is not recreation for us — for many of us it’s a necessary evil. Period. (Pun intended)

Absurdity Illustration #2: I personally do not agree that American citizens should pay for these social activities.

Did I miss a memo? When did this become something that the American citizens collectively would be required to pay for? I thought the point of the hearings was to discuss if private insurance should be required to cover oral contraceptives. How did that become free birth control lines at the free clinic? I believe that if I’m paying for insurance, then I should be able to get any medication I need to live a healthy and comfortable life. I get highly insulted when I’m paying for a service but I cannot receive all the parts of the service I want because someone determined I didn’t need it. Someone who has NO IDEA what I really need or want. That’s insulting. What if your insurance company told you that you’ve had enough sex in your life, and therefore they will no longer cover your Viagra? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Absurdity Illustration #3: What happened to personal responsibility and accountability?

Oh, Rush, Rush, Rush (when was the last time a woman said THAT to you?)…I’ve been pondering this same question for years. I ponder it when I hear statements such as:

  • It’s the woman’s responsibility to take care of birth control.
  • Women who use birth control are awesome. I hate having sex with a condom — it ruins it for me.
  • (When the birth control fails): Not my problem — you should have known you were fertile!
  • (When no birth control is used and pregnancy results) See statement #1 followed by “What do you expect me to do about it?”

You dare to pose the question about responsibility and accountability, while other men place that responsibility and accountability squarely on women’s shoulders. And when a woman does take on the accountability, and a pregnancy results, you point the finger and denounce her.

That’s bad enough.

But then, when the woman takes on the responsibility, but simply asks that her insurance, which she is paying for, offer contraception coverage as part of the planfor which the woman is paying premiums, you have the audacity to insult her and tell her she has no right to make the request.

You’re out of your freakin’ mind.

I doubt you’ll read this, and that’s okay. I didn’t really write it for you to read, since that might mean having some sort of contract with you, and like the flu, I try to avoid things that make me feverish, clammy and feel like I want to faint. I really wrote this for my readers who actually respect your opinion, and for my other readers who think you are a moron. So, let me finish off this post with a brief summary:

Men can get Viagra through insurance. It’s used primarily to treat Erectile Dysfunction. Most men use it for recreational sex. And yes, sex with your spouse that is not a deliberate attempt to procreate IS recreational sex.

Women use oral contraceptives to treat a myriad of gynecological ailments, including infrequent cycles, PCOS, endometriosis, PMDS and acne. They also use it for recreational sex. But insurance doesn’t want to cover oral contraception because women might use it for recreational sex.

If you can’t see the flaw in that logic, then it’s a good thing this is the end of my post, because I have nothing more to say to you.

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