Month: October 2014

I really don’t care.


I don’t care that you have it rough.

I don’t care that we’re all not dropping our signs, jumping off our soap boxes and running over to quiet and calm your fragile state of mind.

I don’t care that we aren’t talking about you and how our problems cause YOU problems.

I don’t care that it annoys you that we haven’t switched the topic over to what you want to talk about.

I don’t care that you’re too stupid to understand the difference between harassment and common courtesy and good manners.

What I do care about is the safety and welfare of women, among many other things.

I won’t apologize to you, or anyone else for:

  • What I think.
  • What I feel.
  • What I know.
  • What I have observed.
  • What I have experienced.
  • What I do.
  • How I dress.
  • How I talk.

If I were a minority, such as an African-American, and was speaking about discrimination, would you really come up to me and tell me all about how rough you have it as a white person? Maybe you would, but most people have enough common sense to just listen. Or at best just walk away and keep their mouths shut. At least I hope so.

For you see, it’s not about whether or not you agree. Yeah, this really isn’t about you and I won’t apologize for that.

It’s all about being heard and understood and educating. It’s about talking and learning.

So every time you tell me how bad it is for you, I know you aren’t listening and have your own agenda. Every time you throw out an example of how you’re not included in the scenario, I know I am talking to a narrow-minded fool.

A person either contributes in the direction of something or they stand away from it, or they block it.

Every time you utter or shout your upset that we aren’t talking about you, you are intentionally blocking what I and others are trying to do.

You don’t fool me.

To all the narrow-minded fools out there, I just have this to say:

Fuck off.




I don’t understand gurus.

You think that I would. I mean, I grew-up in the 60’s. The hippies, love everyone, protests and Transcendental Meditation (TM). Shit, even the Beatles went and saw Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. Well, they did for a bit and then got pissed-off at what he was doing, hence their song. “Sexy Sadie.” But that’s another story.

I wonder this because I see so many posts about someone doing a broadcast about “owning your life” or a series of blogs about “taking control of your life,”  or how to be happy and so on.

Is it me or does anyone else feel a cold shudder go up their back regarding these topics?

I’m not saying these are bad people or even what they are doing isn’t valuable to someone. The first few I tried to read left me angry. I was angry because what they were saying was either stupid or just common sense. Or both.

Never have I heard anyone relate one’s happiness to their character. It always seems to be along the lines of how to get more stuff, how to get ahead, how to please people, etc. Not once did the speaker ever look at the audience and tell them if they want to be happy, then stop being a dick.

But then again, they have books and videos to sell and a mortgage to pay.

I somehow managed to sit through the DVD “The Secret” and it was all about how to think positive SO YOU COULD GET MORE MATERIAL POSSESSIONS. The only reason I watched it was because so many people were raving about it. There wasn’t anything new about it. In fact, it bored me.

Since when has the collection of material things ever made a someone a better person?

They make me angry because it’s always some guy, or gal, who stands up there and goes on and on about all these things YOU need to do to have a better life.

Problem is, I don’t want to be them or even be like them. Sort of  why I avoid make-up counters. Before they can sell you anything, they have to point out what is wrong with you. Then they show you how to correct something that wasn’t even wrong in the first place. To top if off, the last person I want to look like is the woman behind the make-up counter that looks like she applied her make-up with a putty knife and will need a can of Comet to take it off.

I like me just the way I am.

I have mentored women in the past and continue to do so on a very selective basis. They are usually in rough shape and do need some help. Actually what they need is someone to talk to. They don’t need anyone else to talk at them. They’ve had enough of that. Most of life’s problems can be resolved with listening.

I was hesitant at first because who the hell am I to tell someone how to be?

But that isn’t what people want. Some people need guidance. Some need a safe harbor for a few moments to catch their breath and relax.

So, here’s what you do. It’s very simple:

  1. Write down at least 10 things about yourself that you like/love.
  2. Keep doing those.
  3. Write down 1 thing you don’t like about yourself.
  4. Stop doing that.

I could charge a fortune for this.

You’re welcome.

“Clucking hens need to be shot”

Sometimes I worry if my writing makes me come across as a violent person. Truth be told, I’m sure that in certain situations, I could be violent. I hope so because I don’t think I’m the type of person that would let something bad happen to another without doing something – anything – about it.

God knows I’ve written a few stories that show I’m not someone who wouldn’t do that.

But there are times when a human can be so cruel by their actions and words that I want to physically slap them.

That happened yesterday to my friend Mary.

Mary’s daughter was killed 3 months ago in a car accident. Mary’s daughter was in the back seat of a car that crashed into a wall.

I did not know Mary’s daughter but I heard she had been a troubled person who was getting her life back together and was starting to do well. She got a ride that day from someone who was not a good person.

One thing lead to another and the driver was suddenly running from the cops. The young woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She left behind two young children that are now in foster care. Mary has very limited income and resources and the fight for the children has begun. Knowing Mary, she’ll win, but not only does she have to deal with the loss of her daughter, she now has to deal with her grandchildren.

Some would think that the value of the daughter should somehow monitor the grief of the parent.

The comment I overheard was “When the hell is Mary going to get her ass in gear and get back to work? It’s been three months…”

My head snapped. I put my coffee cup down. It was either that or throw it in her face.

“What did you just say? Were you actually criticizing Mary because she’s not here to help? Did I hear that right?”

In my ears, my tone was icy and dangerous. In my mind, it was perfectly clear that I had just drawn first blood.

But not to the person I was speaking to. I will admit that she has never been one of my favorite people. Her name was Vickie and she always thought she was better than everyone else. Now, she didn’t have enough courage to say so. Instead she said it with her dismissive attitude towards people. You were only as valuable to her as you served her and Mary wasn’t here to serve her. Mary wasn’t here at the fundraiser to smile at Vickie and help her with her coffee.

No, that selfish Mary was at home or at one of her many jobs or most likely goofing off because she had such a wonderful, carefree and irresponsible life.

Vickie had money to give. Vickie was married to a doctor. That was her occupation; being married to a doctor, attending fundraisers where she could donate a few dollars here and there and look down on the worker bees.

Vickie turned and looked at me. I waited for her to turn away and ignore me. I stepped a little closer. I wanted her to know I wasn’t going away.

“Well I just think she should be here. I mean, is she going to help around here or not?”

Stupid, stupid woman. I hated her. I hated her guts. I hated her scarecrow body, her cheekbones that never ended and the fact that she had no ass. I hated her and the fur coat she would occasionally wear and I hated the fact that anyone took her money.

“Oh really Vickie? You think that? Well you tell me, what is the proper thing for a parent to do after their child died? I mean, you’ve got a few, so at what point is it that you should stop grieving and feeling sorry for yourself and get your shit together?”

I stepped closer. I wanted to slap her.

“What I mean is..”

“Vickie, I wish I could re-boot your system and install an empathy chip in your poor pathetic head. You disgust me,” I said and walked away. I was shaking.

I left shortly after that. I didn’t want to be anywhere around her. I knew I would spit if she gave money and was thanked for it.

I cried that night for Mary and her daughter, whom I had never met. I cried because I hated that people worship money and not kindness. I cried because people like Vickie were allowed to exist. I cried because I wasn’t allowed to slap that bitch across the face.

Woman stops traffic to apply make-up

God I wish I had been able to take a picture of this. But here in California, it’s hands-free when you’re driving, so if a picture is taken of you holding a phone in your car, you can get a ticket in the mail.

But there she was in the lane next to me, putting on her mascara without a care in the world. The light turned green and she sat there. I kept watching her in my rear view mirror for as long as I could.

I could hear the cars honking and she just sat there with her face planted in the mirror as yet another coat of mascara was applied.

I was really glad I hadn’t gotten stuck behind her. I probably would have gotten out of my car and banged on her trunk.

All I could do was shake my head and wonder, once again, of the sense of entitlement some people feel. How could anyone even remotely think this was OK to do?

I bet she’s the first person to complain about how badly men treat her.

$10.00 says I’m right.

What a load of crap.

14 - 1

I just saw this in my G+ stream. I successfully trolled it, but…what a bunch of crap.

So, if you’re an asshole or a bitch, it’s someone else’s fault?

You have absolutely no responsibility for your life and behavior?

Nice work if you can get it.

We jump up and down when we see victim blaming but it’s perfectly fine to blame others for who we are and how we act?

You ever think that the problems you have might be because of the choices you made and the things you did?

Quite a concept, isn’t it?

So he was an asshole to you or she was a bitch. Oh poor you!

You’re not the first nor will you be the last.

Rather than blame someone else, why not figure out why you allowed it?

God forbid anyone should do that.

You want to know what’s wrong with your life?

Look in the mirror.