I, Thief — Notes from the Purloining Life
I was an artistic kid who wanted to experiment with looks, so when mom was done taking me to the thrift store for back to school shopping (where she must have thought I got everything, because she never asked me about any of my clothes), I hoofed it to the mall.
Ah. The Mall. Many a warm late summer day spent in its confines, layering one pair of pants under another. Putting a nice shirt on underneath a not-so-nice one. Trading a pair of old shoes for new. Pulling off tags and staying away from anything with a magnetic button attached to it.
The Minutes of Our Last Meeting – “Stormfront White Nationalist Community Summit”
"Attendance is a little lighter than normal this year because of Yom Kippur. Some days are just better than others for vandalizing synagogues."
Recent Memory: Case File #0002: "The Millennium Bug"
What was the news?
The Millennium Bug.
How was this news?
Two thousand years were about to end in the 1990s. We'd all celebrated New Year's before, and seen more than one or two decades go by (stop reading if you haven't, this is PG-13). Even a select few of us are lucky enough to live over 100 years, or cursed by a painting. But, this was "Dick Clark's Rock Hard New Year's Event of 19Goddamn99, Jabronies!." The odometer rolling over into a whole new number. And, damn were some people into it. Jennifer Lopez waited for tonight, Will Smith sampled the name. And Prince, true to form, was ahead of his time. Despite being the construct of a guy who would soon hate March 15, then a Pope who had to fix it, people gave a nearly supernatural significance to the upcoming year of 2000.
Bad Day
I wrote this under distress.
The day began to my wife waking me up in my hotel room before sunrise. I thought someone had died. They had.
I Believe... [I Heard a Rumor...]
...that if your allegiance is to a symbol rather than people, to a song rather than citizens, you *might* be a racist or you *might* not be a racist but you are definitely a jackass.
What The Duck!
I mean, I understand a joke. I heard one weeks ago and I legitimately LOLed. But this type of misrepresentation of an entire species of aquatic bird is irresponsible, despicable and immoral. Most ducks I have met are simply trying to get on with it. Just living life. A hard working dad, finding fish to regurgitate into mom’s bill. An ever vigilant mother who leads 12 kids across the street, without government assistance or welfare of any kind.
Manufacturing Wounded Status to Beat the System
Do white males in America really feel marginalized by the strident Left? I don’t think so. I think these MRAs and Alt-Right dipshits see those who are banking on victimhood, elevating their marginalized survival as somehow heroic and cashing in on it as just another opportunity to seize some much needed financing.
A (Non-denominational) Recovering Jew Among Them
At church I felt OK. In sat next to Tommy who explained Catholic things to me. Ironically, I felt more comfortable in that Catholic church than I did in any Jewish temple I’d been in in the last 10 years. Maybe it’s because I feel betrayed by the Jewish people. Maybe it’s because I think Zionism is as evil as anti-Semitism. Maybe it’s because the rabbi at the temple where I grew up seems to have next to no concern for his dwindling congregation and the economic slide of his community so long as he keeps collecting his handsome salary—with benefits. I dunno, but I felt OK.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of September 24, 2017
As a young pervert and budding writer, I absolutely read the articles in Playboy. Really, the writing in that magazine was always as high quality as the air brushing of boobies.
Born-Again Gold Star
There are more of us than you would think, but we don’t really have any softball jerseys made up yet, and we don’t get a chance to soapbox about flipping sexual identities very often. A full 180. It’s not typically smiled upon nor understood. It doesn’t fit any convenient pre-packaged narrative or label.
Checklist for the World’s End
When it's time to go, here's what you'll need to take with you.
The Minutes of Our Last Meeting – “Do Me, Dotard”
The committee had a rather snippy debate about North Korea and Donald Trump. By a majority of one, it was decided that in a war of insults, “dotard” destroys “rocket man”. No one knew what a “dotard” was, but figured the t-a-r-d part made it pretty bad. We decided it was not unreasonable to believe The United States should concede all power and property to North Korea based on insults alone.
Sharing the Last Slice of Privilege
"Would I give up my whiteness to be Black?"she asks. Her answer is yes. Mine is a definitive NO.
This is not to say that I see being Black as a bad thing in any way. It is, however, in this society, a genuine disadvantage, and why would anyone simply give up any advantages he or she has to serve some sort of guilt-ridden non-purpose?
Would I give up my legs to be a paraplegic? No.
Would I give up my mental health to be schizophrenic? No.
Would I give up my American citizenship to be European? Maybe...
The question is broader than the skin color or the rich cultural heritage. The question asked is more complicated.
I Believe... [Nazis are the White People of Germans?]
...that when the shit hits the fan, focusing on all the shit flying everywhere is the wrong choice. Deal with the fan.
Haunted By A Ghostbike
Lisa Kuivinen was 20 years old when she got hit by an 18 wheeler near a construction site on Milwaukee Avenue around Racine—one of the most popular bike lanes in America. She was a dancer and artist enrolled at the Art Institute. Had we known each other we’d probably be friends.
Ariadne
Ariadne, dressed sensibly. Sensible hat, sensible shoes, little white gloves, some said she was a very sensible girl. She was thirteen when all sensibility flew out the window. She laughs about it now. Those teenage years were difficult for a girl so sensible.
Skewering a Genre Perfectly: Not About Dicks but About the Justice System
Galaxy Quest is the perfect spoof of Star Trek. Blazing Saddles is perhaps the best takeoff on westerns. This is Spinal Tap seems over the top until you see Anvil! The Story of Anvil and see clearly how close the rockumentary is to real life.
Which brings me to Netflix's American Vandal.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of September 17, 2017
• I’m a honky with a dingdong, therefore, everything I say means nothing and I’m the bad guy. And so is he.
When Intersectionality Runs Amok: The Underlying Misunderstanding that is Fracturing Society
"Once these angry Rage Profiteers have kids, their kids will look at them and tell them what a mob of bullies they were. They'll be so disillusioned because they thought, by jumping in on the separatist dogma, by leaping into the public shaming online, they were making a difference."
I've had more than a few conversations lately that sound a bit like this. Thinking people who see the current level of Leftist backlash to Trump and the onslaught of Republican rule in this country as wholly negative. Like me, they see the term whypipo as just an attempt to come up with a white people version of a term that strikes offense in the same way that other racially derogatory terms heretofore banned in polite society accomplished for marginalized groups. Like me, they see the term to simply indicate that the users of it are merely assholes (just like those who continue to use gay as a pejorative).
The question becomes simply, why is the idea that one's political discourse is centered on their personal identity has become so divisive?
The trend began with an academic trying to define a broader experience.
Julianne's Money
Being an escort for me was like being a scrapbooker on Etsy for most other single moms trying to pick up some extra money. The only difference was that I could make a few thousand bucks for one hour of potential discomfort versus making a few hundred for several hours of suffering through handmade clip art. I’m a pretty open-minded person, but I cannot for one second believe that there is any joy in being hunched over a desk, cutting and pasting other people’s memories together. It seems so lonely and juvenile.
How do you want to be defined? By one action? By some opinion that could evolve? By a mistake, regrettable only with hindsight? Or by the sum of your parts? Okay, do that for other people. Start the trend.