Posts filed under ‘community’
It’s been a whore-red hot minute since I left my last Cookie crumbs for you bitches to chew on.
My boyfriend had just been elected to his second term, I was at the genesis of what I hope remains a lifelong love of international travel, and you guys were too nice to publicly out me for beginning to dilute the special sauce that had, for the better part of 6 years, made my version of snark just a super-thick slice of splendiferous.
I can admit it.
I hadn’t exactly gone full-on dosser, mind you, but I was toning it down a bit.
Or trying to.
Cuz things were good-ish, man!
I mean, sure, we still had to deal with the same lameass hateful bagodicks we always did (and sadly, always will). Child-hurters, rapists, murderers, racists, warmongers, bigots, Republicans and, well, you get the picture – Fuckers fulfilling flagitous feats of fuckery!!!
But it was also a time of technological progress, an actual canyabeileve it noticeable uptick on issues of tolerance, and an overarching renewed global purpose to take better care of this rock on which we remain (before it’s too late, before we, too, are turned to rubble).
I felt like the universe was signaling an invitation for The Cookie to investigate some chill.
And I did!
I was rockin’ that shit like it was my J-O-B!
Traveling, writing for my literary side piece, reading, meditating, painting, volunteering … you get it. I was producing. I was creating, I was BIZZAY!
But then it started happening.
::: The snowball, the boiling frog, the derailed train of progress :::
The terrible horrible badness was actually happening!
A thing so dark, so grotesquely manifest it hardly seems possible there could even exist in the universe a collection of molecules so malevolent, so intellectually and emotionally mangled, so completely misaligned with the concepts of basic humanity!
And yet, it’s out there.
::: OUT out there — no need for hoods or secret meetings now :::
It walks among us.
This thing found a foothold of fakery on which to climb a mountain of misinformation and plant a flag for universal hatred and the solidarity of stupidity right there at the summit.
This thing so deplorable, so dreadful, so dire it utterly and completely crushed my cocoon of contentment, stomped the fuck out of my faith in the future and compelled me to dust off The Cookie once more to say take note, take cover and go and get your prayer ON.
Frealz tots– all of us precious snowflakes waking up to 2017 this morning looking to be hopeful about the future should start by getting down on our knees, putting our hands to the sky and all-out Bless. It.The. Fuck. UP! for the wholly lame and limited lifespan these next four years of fuckery deserve.
Because it’s happening.
Happy New EWWWWWWWW, bitches!
#unfittoserve #unfitforoffice #unpresidential #trumpamerikkka #stophate #endracism #nomysogeny #resist #resistance #equality #equalrights #work4peace
It is ON!
I am DOIN’ it!!
You better be ready, Great Britain!!!
Lock up the booze and tie up the hounds, ’cause this little trick is LONDON-bound!!
Gonna take in the Thames, check out Ye Old Cheshire Cheese, make my way through the Tate Modern, eat a bite at the crypt cafe in the Church of St. Martin In The Fields, see St. James Park, the Blue Bridge, the Churchill War Rooms, the Wallace Collection, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, Fleet Street, Dickens House, Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, Tower Bridge, Piccadilly Circus, Foyles, London Bank, Green Friday Market … man, I am gonna do it ALL!
Now, y’all have to promise to behave while I’m gone — m’kay pumpkins??
I might even bring you some spotted dick if you’re really good! 😉
I mean, really, this is basic ‘Ho Code 101’ shit, people.
The bottom-line, the guiding principle, THE golden fucking RULE when you’re bumpin’ fuglies with prominent, married public figures (or, ok, well, anyone who’s initials are NOT YOUR SPOUSE) is to take a chill on workin’ your grill.
It’s that simple.
No need for discussion!
It is immorality’s universally accepted imperative, for chrissakes!!
Yet, every few fornications there comes along some slut who just can’t keep it shut.
From Dynasty cast member wannabe Gennifer Flowers to dimestore hooker doppelganger Jaimee Grubbs to the demented and diapered Lisa Nowak — there’s always some skank who slips up and spoils the secret sexy times by spilling something she shouldn’t have.
Thanks a lot, Paula Broadwell!
Because of you tryin’ to go and blackmail a bitch over email and everything, poor David Petraeus now must foray back into the field of contraband coochie to find some stupid new streetwalker to screw.
But the real tragedy here is far worse than whatever future befalls dear David … or you … .
The real tragedy here is bigger, Paula … because it affects me.
Yes, Paula … the catastrophic consequences of your exasperatingly irritating email tirades mean that I now must go buy an ax, find a frickin’ forest, cut down a tree, chop that shit up, build a frickin’ fire, heat up a poker and GOUGE MY FUCKING EYES OUT
in an attempt to rid myself of the mental image of David’s sad old doggy dick doin’ The Cabbage Patch in yet another whore’s hoo-ha!
I live in fucking FLORIDA, Paula!
Do you have any idea how far I have to drive before I wind up in the woods?!?
Fucking FAR, Paula!!
It didn’t have to end like this, Paula.
Or maybe it did.
Because there’s always one hot ho mess out there like you, isn’t there Paula?
Oh yeah there is.
Take it to the bank, gents! 😉
That was 2004.
And he’s right.
That (hate) train is never late.
Which is a million gozillion times beyond the saddest of sad things ever to spur sadness in the entire and collective history of the known universe.
At least it is for me.
Because, here I was, all peppy, proud and playfully politically puffy thinking folks were out there reading important shit, learning important shit and basically gettin’ their social and political shit all kinds of together.
Californians passed Proposition 30, which is a combined four-year, quarter-cent general sales tax increase and an income tax increase for people who make at least $250,000 a year. The money is projected to raise an average of $6 billion annually for the state’s general fund and education to prevent nearly $6 billion in “trigger cuts,” mostly to education, this year.
::: Yay Education! :::
Ballot initiatives allowing same-sex marriage passed in Washington state, Maryland and Maine.
::: Yay Equal Rights!! :::
Ballot measures legalizing pot in Colorado and Washington both passed, and initiatives legalizing marijuana for medical purposes in Massachusetts and Arkansas passed.
::: Yay Cheeto, err, Progressive Revenue Streams!!! :::
But then, alas, it happened.
The veritable tidal wave of racist rants I was fervently hoping against all possible hope would not be thought, typed or otherwise idiotically ideated flat out flooded the Twittersphere — with exactly who you’d expect to see barfing the most bigotry — Alabama and Mississippi.
::: Some things never change … :::
::: belch :::
::: blech :::
And I’m all ‘Goddamn you Alabama! Why can’t you make the news for something positive just ONCE?!’
ACK to infinity!!!
You are home to my two greatest joys and loves — my family and my beloved, sacred, down-on-their-luck-at-the-moment-but-ready-to-
RISE Auburn Tigers!!!
My happy places!!!
Why must you balance such wondrous glory and goodness with the kind of gut-level asshattery that should have died out MORE than decades ago?!?!
Quadruple ACK to infinity!!!!!
… oh, but I digress … this isn’t about me … it’s about an informed electorate … only not so much …
Floating Sheep produced a frighteningly telling geocoded map showing a spike in small-minded Tweets after election day.
They used a location quotient inspired measure (LQ) indicating each state’s share of election hate speech tweet relative to its total number of tweets. A score of 1.0 indicates that a state has relatively the same number of hate speech tweets as its total number of tweets. Scores above 1.0 indicate that hate speech is more prevalent than all tweets, suggesting that the state’s “Twitterspace” contains more racists post-election tweets than the norm.
Mississippi and Alabama have the highest LQ measures with scores of 7.4 and 8.1, respectively.
things people never change.
Ed. Note: I know it’s easy to be stupid and roll around in stupidity all day just being stupid and all … but now and then, just occasionally, every once in a while, open a fucking book and learn something rather than just sitting around spewing the stupid that just makes you look, well, STUPID!
This is why it’s called The White House, kittens:
It is a reference to the color of the house.
The porous sandstone walls of the building were coated with a mixture of lime, rice glue, casein and lead, which give it the white color and led to the familiar name.
It was originally called the “President’s Palace”, but was changed to “Executive Mansion” in 1810 to avoid connections with royalty.
People have always (always) historically referred to the building as the white house because of its appearance.
President Theodore Roosevelt officially adopted the name “The White House” on Oct. 12, 1901.
P.S. Pumpkins: Four More Years. Yep. Deal with it, bitches! 🙂
I am no Mr. Blackwell
::: but hey, technically neither is he, since he’s dead ‘n all … :::
I am no Joan Rivers
::: thank GAWD!!! :::
I am no Heidi Klum
::: but I pretend to be every Thursday night at Sammi … err, uhh, nevermind … :::
I am no high and mighty fashion critic.
I’m a fashion ICON!
As in ‘Icon see that shit and that shit ain’t right!’
And this shit ain’t right! —–>
It’s wrongness exists on several levels, but let’s not go into the granular details lest The Situation wannabe at my local LA Fitness who tormented MY EYES this very afternoon feel compelled to divert his rufie and hair gel savings and put it toward the kind of marrow-level in-depth psychoanalysis his entire being is so desperately crying out for.
Let’s not do that.
We simply don’t have that kind of time.
But address the all-out fuckery that IS those shorts – WE MUST!
Because they aren’t shorts.
Those, my friends, are culottes, okay?
As in women’s fashion trousers circa 1978!!!
As in kinda ok these days for (women who do) yoga but not much else.
So stop it, douchebag.
Because it’s annoying to watch you try to be all testeroney as you priss and strut and flex and grunt while wearing those ridiculous things.
Because it doesn’t work.
Because it doesn’t make you look muscular, or masculine or, well, much of anything remotely, uhh, male.
It makes you look like my Aunt Carol.
There’s a Sports Authority at Southern and 441.
Visit the men’s clothing section pronto because, DAYUM!
Because I just don’t see it.
I mean – I can FEEL that shit, but I don’t SEE that shit.
See, that’s my knee down there (HI KNEE!) and, according to the HBIC at the walk-in I limped-in yesterday it’s cracked … maybe … possibly … so go see an orthopedic surgeon to find out for sure if that bitch is truly busticated.
So I did.
‘Cept he wasn’t sure either.
So now The Cookie’s gonna get her MRI on (NO SNEEZING, LIE STILL) tomorrow and maybe, possibly find the fuck out for good!.
Which makes me all ‘Really?!? Didn’t you guys learn how to read an X-Ray on, like, day 1 of doctor school or something?’
Because I sure can’t. But I don’t have to.
Because it’s a pretty well-established indisputable 100 kinds of true FACT that I am not a doctor or a nurse or a nurse practitioner or a medical assistant or the front-desk lady who gives out lollies.
But they are, which is why this ho hooks up with healing-types when her shit brings the hurt.
I go see people who
are supposed to know shit so they can look at my shit and tell me how to fix that shit!
‘Cept modern medicine’s not as hot shit as all that.
Because it requires multiple examinations by multiple people over the course of multiple days to maybe, possibly find out why pain is radiating down my leg from the outside of my right knee and maybe, possibly fix that fuckery so I can get back to bidness!!