Category Archives: Snark

Two Weird Experiences and the Lessons That Came with Them


Hiya peeps!

I’ve had an interesting (last) week. Things have happened that have made me really think about what I want to do with my life and my career. I’ve done a lot of soul searching and I think I’m formulating a great plan that will allow me to accomplish my goals while contributing to the greater good. I can’t wait to tell y’all about it.

Next week. Later this week.

Sorry guys, but I have other things to discuss today. Don’t worry, they’re just as important and interesting.

And if not, you’ll definitely be back next week later this week to hear all about my plans.

<insert evil genius laugh here>

Anyway…

I want to talk about two things I experienced in the last couple of weeks that have made me wonder about the state of the world. I’ll explain and then offer commentary at the end.

On Mother’s Day, I was coming back from a trip to the store to pick up aluminum foil. We were having a cookout and you can never never have too much aluminum foil. As I drove, I noticed a man who was surrounded by scattered grocery items and a bicycle that was sitting on its side. I surmised that he had fallen off his bike and his purchases had been tossed during the fall.

There wasn’t any place for me to pull over and he was standing in front of a driveway so I had to drive to the end of the block, turn around in the gas station parking lot, double back and park in the lot next to the one where the man was standing. As I pulled into the lot, another car pulled in in front of me. We both got out and approached the man, both of us armed with an empty plastic bag. By the time we got to him, another  person was helping him retrieve his groceries. We joined in and helped pick up his items. The whole time the man just kept saying, “I can’t believe I fell over like that.” While we were rebagging his items, a car slowed down and lowered its window. A woman offered the man a canvass shopping bag. He tried to turn it down, but she said, “so you have something sturdier for the next time.” As we all walked away in our different directions, I felt like humanity wasn’t all lost and that humans still had a fighting chance.

And then I went to Sheetz.

Now, I’m not bashing the entire company. I’m not even bashing everyone at this particular location. But I am bashing one employee from now until the next 6th Saturday in June. I ordered food online from Sheetz. As I was leaving to pick it up, the daughter’s boyfriend asked if I would grab him a beer. I said “sure,” he handed me the money, I left and headed for the store.

I get there, and it’s business as usual. Lots of teens and 20-somethings. Gas and oil workers grabbing their greasy food and cases of beer. Exhausted looking parents getting gas and snacks and doing a last potty break before getting on the road.

I get in line so I can pay for my food. There’s three or four black guys in line in front of me. Probably Diva’s age, or a little younger. Well one of them apparently didn’t have an id, so the cashier refused to serve any of them. They were annoyed and disappointed, but they weren’t making a scene.  While I was waiting in line, I remembered I actually wanted a raspberry ale, so I jumped out of line, got my ale and got back in line. At this point, the guys had left.

I get to the counter and I pay for my food and alcoholic beverage. The cashier was pleasant enough to me, but I could tell he was agitated about the previous customers. At this point the guys had left the store and were outside, standing by what I am guessing was their car. The cashier gave me my receipt and I ventured to the food side to wait for my order.

Once I had my food and was leaving, I realized that I forgot to buy J’s beer. Not only that, but I had left his money for his beer in the car. So I went to my car (which was parked directly in front of the doors), dropped off my stuff, grabbed J’s money and went back into the store. I walked directly back to the beer cooler, grabbed the beer and walked straight to the checkout. I said, “Okay, this is the last time you’re gonna see me in this line.”

And then then wheels fell off the bus.

Cashier: Sorry but I can’t sell this to you.

Me: Why not?

Cashier: Because if one person in the group doesn’t have ID, then I serve anyone in the group.

Me: What group? I came here by myself.

Cashier: I saw you talking to someone outside. I can’t sell this to you.

Me: No, you didn’t see me talking to anyone outside because I didn’t talk to anyone. I went to my car which is (pointing out the door) right there, dropped off what I had already purchased and came directly back in to buy what I forgot.

At this point, the realization of what he was implying set in.

Me: Oh, I get it. Since there’s a group of black guys and I’m black, we must all be together, right? So, I’m buying this one, lone 40 ouncer so they can pass it around among tbemselves?

Cashier: I can’t sell this to you. You can get as violent as you want, but it’s not going to happen.

Admittedly, I was mad. But violent? Seriously?

Me: There is nothing violent about me. I’ve said nothing violent, I’ve just called you out on your racist profiling. Funny…you didn’t have an issue with selling me the ale, but the beer is a problem? Why? I can’t drink a 40? You said you saw me talking to someone outside? Point them out. Where are they? You’ve got cameras? Let’s look at the footage. Show me who I was talking to. Please, I’m dying to know!

At this point, the manager comes over and asks what’s going on. The cashier tells him that he saw me talking to someone outside and because of that, he doesn’t want to sell me the beer.

Manager: Sorry ma’am, but if someone in the group doesn’t have id, no one in the group can be served.

This again. So, once again, I explain that I came in alone, made a purchase alone, realized I forgot to buy the beer came back in (say it with me) alone and was trying to make this last purchase…alone.

Me: And like I told the cashier, if you’ve got footage of me talking to someone during the 15 seconds it took for me to walk to my car, grab money and reenter the store, then I’d love to see it.

Manager: (looks at cashier) go ahead and sell it to her.

Cashier: (shakes head and backs away from the register): If you want to sell it to her, then you ring her out. I’m not a racist.

Me: Maybe you aren’t. And if that’s the case, then stop acting like one.

So now I’m boycotting this particular Sheetz location. I have no problem with a store adhering to an underage drinking and tobacco purchase policy. But I do have a problem with someone who uses that policy to be a douche at best, racist at worst.

So, my takeaways from these two encounters:

  1. there are still good people in this world who see the good in others and are willing to come together for a common goal.
  2. There are still jerks in this world who will look for any reason to promote a stereotype or make negative assumptions…and then lie about it to cover their own butts.
  3. The gas station down the street from Sheetz has the same beer.

Later this week I’ll be back with some announcements and to fill you in on some other things going on with me. Until then, have a good week! 🙂

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If you’re snarky and you know it write a post…


I’m in a strange place today. Not in a bad mood, not in a good mood, but in some sort of mood nonetheless. When I’m in this kind of mood, I tend to be snarky.

For those not in-the-know, snark is annoyed sarcasm wrapped in humor. I’m quite frequently sarcastic (you know, in case you didn’t get the memo), and annoyance and I go way back, so snark and I being acquainted should come to a shock to no one. But today, I decided to share my snark in a whole new way. Because I’m a giver. Here are a few of my snarly comments about the happenings of the day so far:

(Sidenote: how many of you are regretting being happy that I’m blogging again? Careful what you wish for, eh? 😉 )

Email subject line: How long is a real novel?

My snarky response: One word longer than a fake one.

*****

Post on Facebook from Allen B. West calling Bernie Sanders a democratic socialist

Why can’t you be more like your wife? You sir, are an idiot. Democratic socialist =/= social democrat. If you can’t make a point without lying, then stay dull and quiet.

******

Email from potential client: I need 500 words with the keyword phrase used 10 times (the phrase was six words long and ridiculous). I’ll pay you $5.

My response: Yeah, no…that’s not even realistic.

Reply: Why do you writers keep turning down this gig? It’s not hard to throw the keywords phrase in.

My response: You really think the keyword phrase is the issue? Don’t get me wrong, 12 percent of your copy being keywords is a bit ridic, but only wanting to pay $5 is more of an issue.

Reply: Okay, so make it 600 words. For $6.

My response: We’re done here.

*******

Guy at gas station: You gettin’ gas? (I’m standing next to the car, nozzle in gas tank)

Me: Nope. Glitter. My car is too fabulous for gas.

*****

Phone call from mystery shop scheduler:

Scheduler: hey Kim, is there any way you can squeeze in an emergency shop?

Me: When?

Scheduler: Today.

Me: Where?

Scheduler: Columbus. It has to be done by 3 pm.

Me: It’s 1:30.

Scheduler: Is that a problem? I see you’re in WV and OH is right next to it.

Me: It’s two hours from here.

Scheduler: Not according to our tool.

Me: According to your tool, I’m five miles from my house, even though I’m sitting in it. Trust me, it’s two hours away.

Scheduler: <getting annoyed> According to our tool, it’s only 45 miles from you. If you don’t want to do it you don’t have to lie about it.

Me: You need to put a “1” in front of that 45 lady. And you’re right, I don’t want to do it, but it’s not because of the distance. It’s because the only successful tool in the situation is you.

I’m pretty sure I’m not safe for polite society today, so I’m just gonna color and call it a day.

Jpeg

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46(?)/46/46 – Day..um…


Okay so I’ve been sick and therefore I have no idea what day this is supposed to be. I’ll figure it out tomorrow and adjust accordingly.

Today..ahem…this morning I want to talk about caving to the collective. But before I do that, a confession:

Hi, my name is Kim. I’m a writer who doesn’t like word games.

I’ll let that sink in for a moment.

I know that as a writer, games such as Scrabble(tm) and Boggle should be my favorite games ever…

Yeah, not so much.

But when you have 800+ Facebook friends, and 700 of them are writers, you get a lot of game requests.

A lot.

Most of the requests are for word games. For the most part, I ignore the requests. But after a while, it begins to feel impolite, and if Mary Belle taught me anything, it’s that you should never be intentionally rude.

So, I caved and added a word game….

image

It’s really the only game I can tolerate…don’t know why and it’s probably best if I don’t try to figure it out.

I used to play this quite often, but then I quit. Not sure why, probably another candidate for “don’t ponder too much.” It seems many of you were waiting for me to take my turn.

My bad.

Anyway, I’m now playing a word game again. You can can stop with the disapproving stares and take down the petition to have my writer card revoked. Mea culpa…I am officially one of you again.

You’re welcome.

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46(?)/46/46 – Day #9: I’m not a feminist, I don’t even play one on tv…


I was watching The Big Bang Theory tonight and it reminded me of something I wanted to talk about.

First: Sheldon…awwwwww!

Now, onto the topic at hand: Feminism.
Kaley Cuoco-Sweeting announced she was not a feminist. She stated in an article that she liked taking care of her husband by doing things such as cooking for him.

The Internet lost its collective mind. Good ‘ol Twitter, the yardstick by which everything that matters is measured, was especially active, with tweeters stating that Kaley should be ashamed for not being a feminist since she is benefitting from the sacrifices made by feminists that went before her.

*sigh*

Seriously? Because women generations before me decided they wanted to put career before family, get in the trenches with the guys, and open their own doors I also have to ascribe to those exact beliefs?

Get outta here! By that logic, no women should ever become a teacher or a nurse (two professions that were acceptable for women), cook, clean or get married. Hell, we should all hate men!

Don’t get it twisted though, I AM appreciative to the women who came before me and made my life so much easier than theirs. But what ever happened to personal preference or choice? I thought feminism was about women having the choice to do what they want? If a woman chooses to compete for the CEO position in a corporation, then she has the right and the playing field should be different by 23 cents equal. If a woman wants to own a business, she can do that. But on the flip side, if a woman wants to stay home and take care of her family, then that’s her choice. Kaley has just as much right to not be a feminist as other women have to be feminists.
Choice, people. That’s the key here.
I’m growing weary of the line in the sand people are constantly drawing. You’re either…or. There’s no gray area. There’s no “and.” Either you’re a feminist and think all those old fashioned things like taking care of your family and the laundry are wrong, or all you are is a housewife and mother with no ideas or thoughts of your own. No one with a completely functional brain is that extreme in either direction, and it’s ridiculous to think women or any human being should be.
So, all you feminists out there, lay off Kaley already. Feel free to jump on me, though. I’m sure I didn’t garner any points with this post, but I did warn you.  If you feel I’m wrong, feel free to set me straight in the comments.

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First Day of the (Work) Week, First Day of the Month and a Blog Challenge


I’ve been wanting to get back into blogging, but just could not figure out how to squeeze it in. But since there’s another Ultimate Blog Challenge, and the first of October falls on a Monday, I figured it was the planets aligning to allow me to jump back in. So, here I am.

No idea what I’m going to write about to fill 31 days, but I’m sure things will come to me when they need to. Lord knows, my friends on Facebook and Twitter provide me with enough fodder, not to mention my um, entertaining family. So, I imagine this month will be a hodge-podge of things. Hopefully, at least some of it will be entertaining.

I’ve got a lot of irons in the fire (even more than usual *yikes*), so I doubt there are going to be a lot of long, rambling posts, but I will strive to post something every day, even if it’s more of a “Dear Diary, today I fed the dogs and cleaned the oven,” kinda post than something more meaningful. Of course, I hope to provide more entertaining fare, but sometimes, you get what you get. 🙂

And with that, I’m going to sign off. Got work to do, lists to make, blog post ideas to conjure up…

See you tomorrow.

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Be Less Racist – Eat Less Chicken


I’ve been pretty busy with work, so I haven’t had time to blog, but some of the events that have unfolded over the last few days have prompted me to jump back up on my soapbox for a few minutes. I’m going to make a couple of statements, then expound on them. Ready?

Okay…here we go.

Statement #1: Chik-Fil-A can support whatever it wants.

Like it or not, they are free not to support same-sex marriage. They are free to be a religious-based organization. They can choose to only recognize traditional marriage standards. You can boycott them. You can march in front of their restaurants and call them homophobic, evil or whatever you want. But it’s not going to make a difference. Beliefs that deeply rooted are not going to change because of a few picket signs or angry letters to the editor. I would bet the farm that Cathy et al would close the franchise down before they would change their stance. So, don’t waste your energy. Express your disdain by driving past the restaurant and eating someplace else.

Or you could send everyone you know to a Chik-Fil-A, then have them donate a dollar to a local Gay rights advocacy group as penance.  And don’t forget to let the restaurant know you did so.

Statement #2: Racism is alive and well.

Many of my friends seem to be shocked by this revelation. It makes me smile that some of my friends are so pure of thought that these things don’t occur to them, and it makes my heart sad when I have to point this fact out to them. I wish I could have the same idyllic attitude, but alas, it seems my reason for being is to be a litmus test and sounder of the alarm for others. I’m okay with that. But please, when I tell you that outside of your immediate scope, there are people who still hate on the basis of skin color, I’m not trying to be mean. I’m your reality check. No more, no less.

But the debates from the last few days have made me question things, and so, I am going to throw the big question out there: Fifty years ago, would we have been friends? Would you have supported my right to sit where I want on a bus or in a restaurant, or would you have complained that I had an “agenda” as I was fighting for my equal rights as a black person? Or go back further in time — would you have objected to my agenda to have equal rights as a woman?

No?

Maybe?

How are those fights any different from the one being fought now?

Now, before you tell me, “but it’s not the same thing, you’re comparing apples to oranges,” let me stop you. You’re right, they are two completely different issues.

But they are still both fruit. Fruit born from the same seed of ignorance and intolerance.  Just as the fair and equal-minded had to shout down the detractors to equal right for women and blacks then, the same thing is happening now.

Speaking of detractors, let’s talk a moment about Obama haters.

No, I don’t mean those who oppose President Obama’s policies, I mean those who hate the man.

Dislike his policies all you want. Call him out on what you perceive as a lack of experience and inability to run the country. I got no beef with that.

But those of you who hate him because you hate the idea of a black man being in the Oval Office, I’m onto you, and I will call you out whenever I encounter you. I’ve got a big booming voice, and I’m not afraid to use it.

Because if I let you hate him and remain silent about it, it is only a matter of time before you start hating me. Because I’m black. Because I’m a woman. Because I fit some other stereotype you hold dear to your heart.

So, now, friends,  maybe you understand my frustration with some of the things that have been said over the last few days. For some of you, it’s just idle chatter with no immediate implications. But for me, it is so much bigger than that. I cannot allow anyone  to roll back time and force me to fight for my rights all over again. Not gonna happen. Not while I’m still breathing.

 

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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 Liz Trotta


By now, I’m sure you’ve seen this, but just in case, check out the link and watch the video:

Raped Too Much

Go catch up if you need to. I’ll wait…

<insert Jeopardy theme here>

Caught up? Good. Below is my open letter to Ms. Trotta.

Dear Ms. Trotta:

A friend brought your statements on Fox News to my attention. I have to say, your statements triggered a strong response, and I’d just like to share some of my thoughts with you.

Shame on you, you condescending, self-absorbed, ignorant and overall poor excuse for a human being.

I have been trying trying to figure out what you were really saying. I didn’t want to allow myself to believe that you actually, actually believe that women in the military should expect to be raped. I was trying, (trying!) to rationalize your statement of “raped too much”. I mean, surely you meant that it shouldn’t be happening at all, not that there is an acceptable level that must be allowed because, and forgive me for putting words in your mouth, “boys will be boys” or “men just can control themselves when they are in close contact.”

Oh wait, that last part, “in close contact”, you actually did say.

I’ve spent the better part of my day trying to believe you were not placing the blame of rape on the victims instead of where is actually belongs — on the individuals who are so lacking in respect and love for their fellow human beings, they choose to bolster their self-respect and exercise their power by inflicting pain on someone else in the most disgusting and heinous way imaginable.

But I’m not that naive, and as much as I wish I could be, I’m forced to face this fact: you are a sub-par human being. How dare you state that women who choose to serve their country should do so with the acknowledgement that their male counterparts might rape them. How dare you make rape a “work hazard.” And how dare you cast such a disgusting pallor on the decent and good and kind members of our military.

I’m sick and tired of people treating rape as if it’s just a plot point in a bad romance novel. I’m sick of people assuming she “asked for it” because, obviously, she was someplace she shouldn’t have been, wearing something she shouldn’t have been wearing or trusted the wrong people. Because all of the excuses, rationalization and explanations does not negate this: a rapist rapes because he wants to and the action falls on his shoulders.

I am going to assume that you or a loved one has never been through the experience. You are fortunate. Many of us, however are not, and your words are a slap in the face to the victims and their loved ones who have had to endure the act and live with the aftermath.

So, again, Ms. Trotta, shame on you. Shame for taking the blame from where it should be. Shame on you for selling out your fellow women. And shame on you for using your position to share your obviously skewered, twisted and pathetic understanding of what rape actually is with the world. I can only hope that others are as outraged as I am and take action to make sure you are yanked from your bully pulpit and never have an opportunity to spew forth your nonsense ever again.

They say that women are the “weaker” sex. Personally, I think anyone who has to rape to feel powerful is weaker than any woman could try to be.

However, Ms. Trotta, you are the exception. You are as weak as they come.

Signed

One Fed Up Woman

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