Posts filed under ‘election’

Orange Is The New Blech


It’s been a whore-red hot minute since I left my last Cookie crumbs for you bitches to chew on.

Let’s recap:

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 was.

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!

trump-supporters

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 exists.

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!

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Hashtag garden:
#unfittoserve #unfitforoffice #unpresidential #trumpamerikkka #stophate #endracism #nomysogeny #resist #resistance #equality #equalrights #work4peace

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January 1, 2017 at 2:15 pm 2 comments

Well SOMEONE didn’t get the memo!!


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.

Nice.

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!!

Fucking.
FAR.

ACK!!!

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! 😉

November 12, 2012 at 11:05 pm 4 comments

Some things never change


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 … :::

Racist Tweet

::: belch :::

Racist Tweet

::: 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.

Some 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! 🙂

November 10, 2012 at 3:42 pm

Don’t be a bitch. Vote! Then bitch ;)


October 22, 2012 at 7:35 pm 1 comment

An Open Letter to Ann Romney


Stop it.
Stop it right now.

Stop using your illnesses as a campaign issue if you’re never once going to talk about the need to further awareness or the need to raise money for research or for anything other than furthering your own selfish agenda — all the while denying you are doing anything of the sort.

It’s disgusting.
So, stop it.

Because what you’re using it to snag is the White House. And the White House is the residence of the most prominent public servant in the United States. But public service is most assuredly not what you are advocating with the Ann Romney Pity Party Road Show.

The ME ME ME interview-train you are steering into seemingly any and every station with a broadcast signal or rag with publication privileges has steered very clear of any meaningful discussion of what real illness really does to real people.

But then it kind of has to, doesn’t it, Ann.

Because you wouldn’t know about any of that.

Because your situation is not representative of what real illness really does to real people.

Trust me, I know.
Because I am a real person really affected by real illness and I’m tired of your act.

I am Multiple Sclerosis – each and every day since my diagnosis on May 15, 2009.

I am also married with a mortgage, a full-time (and then some) corporate manager, and I am in the game.
And I — like the mostly 400,000 other Americans living, dealing and coping with the real realities of Multiple Sclerosis — do it all every day without spinning my sad tale of woe to manipulate situations for my own personal gains.

Because that’s disgusting.
So, stop it.

“I want people to believe in their hearts that we know what it is like to struggle,” you said this past Sunday on NBC’s ‘Meet The Press’. ” … our struggles have not been financial, but they’ve been with health and with difficulties in different things in life.”

Ann?
If you can lament MS as your ‘cruel teacher’ yet have absolutely no comprehension of financial hardship that often goes hand-in-hand with long-term and/or incurable illness, then I once more must advise you to stop it. Stop it right now.

No one begrudges you — or your husband — your success.
That is not what this is about.

The dream, the promise and the hopeful realization of financial success is part of the very foundation of our country.
Congrats on making it.

What this is about is that you put yourself front-and-center and go on and on (and on and on) about your struggles with MS and how you “don’t know how much is it going to chew me up and spit me out?” … and you, like the rest of us wonder “How sick am I going to get? … Am I going to be in a wheelchair?” … and you, like the rest of us, know “It’s a very, very frightening place to be.” … yet you never once ever (ever!) talk about why all of that is why we need to bring the issue to the forefront, to make health care a true and meaningful part of a national discussion, to raise awareness, to raise money for research, to find a cure (because we could) — for it and all of the many other diseases out there for which there is no cure, little money, even less discussion and scant hope … and so on and so forth.

What this is about is that you, Ann, are in the perfect position to do just that.
But you never talk about the bigger picture.
You never speak of or to the greater good.
Ever.

Shame on you!


It’s just the never ending Ann Romney Pity Party Road Show.
A true story about Ann Romney.
Starring Ann Romney.
Talking only about Ann Romney.

So, do not attempt to class yourself with me or other folks like me when it comes to Multiple Sclerosis.
Ever.

Because ‘The Hug’, the skin flips, eye jumbles, pulls, seizures, spasticity, word fishing, fog, falling, paralyzing fatigue, constant pain, more than occasional Krueger Claw and all of the other ruthless physical and emotional realities of daily life with MS are but a part of the conversation that speaks to that bigger picture you don’t talk about.

That bigger picture that, for the rest of us includes things like:
The worry over what to do about work when you can’t walk or think.
::: You don’t work, so this is not something that weighs heavily on your mind. Why talk about it, right? That’s not your MS. :::

The fear your colleagues will find out and feel you’re suddenly ‘less than’ capable.
::: Your colleagues on the campaign eagerly have you play the victim card, so this is not fundamentally significant to you. Why talk about it, right? That’s not your MS. :::

The financial stranglehold imposed by uncovered insurance costs.
::: We all know that ‘financial struggles’ are not intrinsic to your way of life. Why talk about it, right? That’s not your MS. :::

And so much more I don’t need to get into here because why talk about it, right, Ann? That’s not your MS.

But it is mine.

My MS means nearly $4,000 every month for just 4 Avonex injections (that’s just a one-month supply, Ann).

My MS means as much as $5,000 twice a year for brain or cervical spine MRIs to monitor my progression.

My MS means feeling helpless and very, very (very) scared when people I know and care about die from MS.

People like Dan Aronie …

People like my high school classmate Clay …

Oh but that’s just my MS, Ann.

Not yours.

And I know you don’t concern yourself with those things not Ann Romney.
::: Choo Choo!! And the Ann Romney Pity Party Road Show MUST go on! :::

Ann, I don’t doubt that you do you understand a small smidge of the physical plight the rest of us MS patients endure, but you cannot even begin to understand what it is like to live with (and in spite of) the rest.

So do not try to ‘relate’ to me, girlfriend. ‘kay?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am a working professional living with (and paying for) MS … and I approved this message.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

::: and I don’t really care what you think about it, Ann :::

September 18, 2012 at 6:23 pm 8 comments

You see it


January 30, 2012 at 5:25 pm 1 comment

We interrupt this blog …


Remember when John McCain temporarily suspended his presidential campaign to ‘fix the economy’ and then temporarily suspended caring about the economy to participate in a debate with my boyfriend?

Well, this is sort of like that … if you take out all the parts that aren’t, that is.

Yours truly has to temporarily suspend annoying the Sahars and Sahar-supporters of the world, mocking the masses, decrying this New Great Depression (and its casualties), poking fun at political puerility and delivering dumb bitch of the day deliciousness so that I can temporarily annoy a bunch of other people who, like, pay me cash monies for shit and suchlike.

Don’t hate!
MONEY TALKS BITCHES!
But only for a little while 😉

What does this all mean?

It means Ann Coulter can relax.
(by snacking on small children)

It means Sarah Palin can continue the Imawhackjob World Tour-a-palooza.
(TEEBEGGURZZ UNITE!)

It means Jesus freaks everywhere can continue to see the holiest of holies in the unlikeliest of places (and do other nasties in His name).
(Geezus!)

It means Whitney Harding can continue bringing the hotness to make up for the extreme sizzle-deficit caused by … well … you remember.
(Oh delicate flower of supreme womanly elegance – how we do remember you …)

It means this guy can continue his one-man firestorm of fucktardery on ‘da laydeez’.
(barf)

It means Meg Ryan can continue to just absolutely 100% fuck herself UP nine ways to Sunday!
(and that’s no joke!)

It means COLLEGE FOOTBALL RULES!!!! (especially Auburn Football!!!)
(Auburn is the way and the light. Bow to the power!!!)

It means International Whore Day can MUST continue with gusto!
GO WHORES!!!

It means Tara Reid can continue … oh who are we kidding – BOTTOM’S UP BITCH!
(burp)

It means The Cookie’s game plan for the next everhowfuckinglong means going global to help manage the metamorphosis that has — albeit temporarily — appropriated her existence.

June 22, 2010 at 4:57 pm 18 comments

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