Drinking Hate for Breakfast: A Liberal Welcomes President Trump

So that happened. 

And my timelines are filled with good, smart, strong people utterly shocked that their country hates them. That in 2016 a candidate can come to power on a bigotry ticket and win. I feel the same combination of intense jealousy, pity, and grief that I do when bad things happen to people who’s parents loved them. 

It’s true, America hates you.

So many of us have known this our whole lives. We learned it in the way police spoke to our parents, the way our parents spoke back to them. In the way our teachers spoke and allowed other classmates to speak to us and treat us and the way our parents dealt with that as well. I have been told to keep my head down my whole life. To keep my voice down. To never look angry. 

For one reason or another; my race, my poverty, my unwillingness to play the feminine submissive has been a threat to the good people of this country. That applies to you too. If nobody told you until this day that your country hates you because they fear you, I’m sorry it’s shocking, it’s time to own that reality. 

As the novelist Attica Luck said in an interview this morning “I’m not crushed. I’m awake to what my country is telling me.” 

If President Trump wakes you up to the racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia and white supremacist agenda in America, then I welcome him. 

Things are going to happen that will diminish this day in your memory. For better or for worse. Whatever you do, don’t let it get so small in your personal history that you don’t remember how it felt to wake up blasted with the weight of half America’s explicit hatred. Don’t fight this feeling. Let it in. 

When you know you are hated, you are freed from the expectation that you will make compromises to avoid what is already true. So America hates you. What will you do about it?

Drink it up. Let it inform your actions. Don’t hide. Don’t tiptoe around bigot feelings, don’t sit next to your racist Uncle at Thanksgiving, don’t brush it off when men dismiss you, don’t assume that people of color in confrontation with the police are safe. Don’t waste this feeling. This opportunity. 

Use that hatred to fuel your offense. Lay seige to those who would have us dissappear from our own country. Who would tag us and curtail our rights in our “free” country. Who would institutionalize and outright murder every threat to themselves: from queers to people of color to people who get abortions. 

The shades have fallen away this morning and I am ready for the fight to come. What about you?

How To Be A Liberal When There Is No God

I feel like I’ve been inundated with images of racist, classist victories. One scroll through my timeline and I see police in riot gear hitting DAPL protestors with sticks, white supremacist terrorists The Bundy Gang going free with no consequences, police at Portland City Hall pushing protestors down the stairs, hitting them with fists and batons and pepper spraying them, and for some reason a video of a 2015 arrest in which a officer kicks Hector Medina-Pena in the face, breaking his jaw while he was clearly on all fours on the ground in a prone position.

Writer and educator Annie Lamott posted an extremely nice thing for people who believe in God, but for the rest of us, “have faith” is just a little too much to ask in a world that already asks so much of us to begin with.

The first thing to do when injustice has us down is to make sure we don’t perpetuate that shitty behavior in our own lives. We have to take care of ourselves. When you’re feeling defeated, angry, tired, you’re no good to anyone. Turn off the computer, put the phone in a drawer and do something you have control over. Set the parameters of your activity so that success is assured. Then stop and do something else. This last bit I am very bad at, but this post isn’t about me.

The second thing is to embrace the gray areas. A black and white world may be easy in the moment, but it’s not the truth. When you look closely, you see that there are peaks and valleys, even in the most straightforward racist bullshit. We are not the heroes fighting a great enemy. We are the heroes fighting the heroes, both fighting a great enemy. Live in the paradox.

The officer who broke Hector Medina-Pena’s jaw believed he was apprehending a man who had just robbed a strip club and threatened the clerk with a gun, a crime Hector confessed to in May. Does committing a robbery justify a police officer breaking your jaw while you crouch on the pavement unarmed? Only a fascist would think that. Which is the problem. We’re not just fighting against the racist system that sets up white men who kick unarmed men of color in the face to be heroes, we’re fighting against a population who really believe fascism is the answer. Whether they know that or not, the eye for an eye set are frothing at the mouth for fascism.

Which is why we should closely examine the little voice that says that maybe that police officer could use a kick in the face to balance the scales. Maybe if he knew what it was like to feel his jaw fracture while laying prone on the ground as the literal boot of the oppressor crashes down onto his head, perhaps he would neglect to take such joy in future assaults? It’s important to look at our own relationship with fascist fantasies as they apply to our worldview and not just for the opposition.

Finally, we look to history. It feels bad now, but didn’t it feel bad when the Ohio National Guard opened fire on Kent State Students, murdering four peaceful protestors? Didn’t it feel hopeless when MLK was assassinated? Medgar Evers, Ruben Salazar, Malcom X? You can kill a man, but you can’t kill an idea. You can acquit a terrorist gang, but you can’t erase the footage of them bragging and laughing as they deface Paiute artifacts. You can hit peaceful protestors with sticks, hell you can shoot them, and they have before, but the wheels of progress keep turning.

The definition of liberalism is that we push the boundaries of tradition. What passed for liberal thought 20 years ago is regressive today. This is a fight we will not win. At best, we might live to become the conservative scourge we so revile. Now doesn’t that make you feel better?

You Will Never Be Cured

We have this narrative that all you have to do to be a Good Human is figure out how to keep your house clean, capitalize on your education, utilize your left and right brain, forgive assholes, know the state capitals, “experiment” but not so it’s weird, have well behaved dogs, good smelling hair, sweaters that don’t pill, a calm and soothing voice but also a commanding manly voice, one pair of comfortable designer shoes, a watch your mom didn’t give you, healthy teeth, and a tattoo you got on a whim but still looks really cool 15 years later.

That’s totally a lie.

I recently had an experience where I made a joke about my anxiety and got 25 different suggestions on what I should do to fix me. Which is great. It means that you guys love me enough to tell me this stuff, but I also saw a pattern in the comments and I have something to say about it.

There’s nothing wrong with me.

And there’s nothing wrong with you either. We are functioning at peak performance for this moment. If we want something else, we can do something else, and then different things will happen. Different than what’s happening now, different than we expected, even.

There’s no magical switch that will turn you from who you are into someone worthwhile because you are already worth everything you will ever be worth. You were born worthy, you will die worthy regardless of any external factors.

If you decided to become a master carpenter or a physicist or get really good at coping with your depression or if you do nothing, help no one, and die alone, you are worth the same. It’s only a matter of preference and comfort.

Stop stressing out over being a good enough human. Stop thinking that the solution to your “problem” is over the next hill. A bullet journal will not cure you because there is nothing to cure you from.

There is no right way to be a person. There is only the way you choose.

Dog Questions

Why is it that we have to spell every other word that has anything to do with food or exercise in this house, but the dog still doesn’t understand that you can not be under a blanket you’re currently sitting on top of. 

Why is it the dog knows enough to indicate which thing she wants on a long list of things (walk, dinner, blankie, ups, outside etc.), but not enough to go to the thing she wants as a short cut. Or even look at it. She stares at me until I name the thing and then does a little ‘yes, that’s the thing’ dance.

Why does the dog hate men carrying things? Man alone = okay, whatever. Man + shelf = bark bark bark death death death oh my fucking god death I said.

Oh Hi Monday. Didn’t See You There.

  • If you click on the Erotica Reviews link in the menu, it now leads to a completely different website, www.baconandlettuce.com. This is because, after more than a year of not writing any reviews at all, I’ve decided to start back again and to double down on them being their own thing and hopefully upping the SEO game by having the site’s keywords all about doin’ it.
  • I started watching Season 11 of Supernatural. I’m in the middle of episode 12 right now. Sam’s total and complete lack of deviousness is going to kill those boys one day… again.
  • Final inspection on our house is today. So that’s not equal parts terrifying and amazing like a unicorn dick or anything.
  • I have decided that I am voting for Measure 97, an extremely poorly written piece of tax law that promises to cripple big business in Oregon. Proponents say that the issues will be fixed in the legislature, but there’s no way that’s happening because assuming they were at all competent (they’re not) any “fix” the legislature would make would drastically drop funding, which they would never do even if we were all dying of starvation. So why vote for it? Because fuck big business and their cock-sucking lap dogs is why. I’m about 0.05% joking right now. The city’s big idea this election cycle was to give developers a cool $265 million so they can build roughly 13 apartments for poor people. Eat dicks, the rich!

Stop Telling People to Call Their Parents.

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I found this on a blog post called “How Not to Be a Garbage Human” and there’s no way I’m linking to that trash. Also it was a promoted post and I can’t find it again.

There’s also a podcast I used to listen to where the host told people to call their mom at the end of he show, but that’s recently changed to “call your person” so it sounds like other people wrote the email I was to tired to write, so thanks guys.

It’s fucking mean to tell people to call their parents. And not just people like me who have an estranged relationship with one or more of them. Parents also die, get Alzheimers, sink into depression and on and on.

Basically, its a garbage human move to assume everybody is like you and has access to parents.

How to be a #NastyWoman

Tell people about yourself. Specifically how great you are.

Fashion don’t? More like Fashion don’t give a fuck what you shitlords think.

Fuck. However you like. With whomever you like.

Call out rapists and their rape-apologist bros.

Don’t ask. Tell.

Get shit done.

Be unapologetically, blissfully ugly.

Speak truth to power. And liars.

Say no when you mean no.

And yes when you mean yes.

Always #BossBitch. #BossBitch always.

Reject trans-exclusionary feminism

Reject white racist feminism

Don’t back down. No matter what they call you.

Just 1:38am Things

  • I’m listening to Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s audiobook In My Own Words and true to title, they actually do have recordings of speeches she’s given. Which would be great except that she is a far far better writer than than she is a speaker, and at least one of the recordings is 16 straight minutes of murmuring and coughing punctuated by an early 2000s iPhone ringing over and over while Ruth may or may not be talking somewhere in the distant background. It’s as if it was recorded on the cell phone of the woman sitting next to the ass with the iPhone he can’t turn the fuck off. Otherwise it’s good. 
  • I started watching Smallville after I was thoughtlessly coerced into taking three vaccines at the same time a couple weeks ago and literally could not move one arm for an entire day in addition to being totally feverish and gross. I have nothing to say about it really (except the standard please stop making women into property, or plot door stoppers and the not so standard ‘holy shit, for 2002 this is crazy feminist omg’)
  • While I was all vaccine sick I had a fever and when it broke I dreamt/hallucinated that I turned into a million tiny cubes of Turkey and I was delicious and instead of being horrified (I don’t even like turkey that much) I was elated and it was wonderful. 

Things I Learned on Google: “Calaveras”

We’ve already established that I am a totally crap Mexican. Therefore, I end up Googling my own cultural history more often than not and this is one of those times. Since it’s Halloween again this year and I am, once again, in the great white North, I decided to arm myself with a little education for the coming storm. And no, white friends I have absolutely no authority to say whether or not your calaveras make-up is racist, except that it probably is and no, I don’t get to make the rules. You do. Which is why it’s racist. (More about that here)

Anyway, while Googling I learned some things about the Mexican sugar skull that everybody else probably knows, but I didn’t and so here they are.

  • Sugar is not native to Mexico. It was brought to the country with colonization, and was used instead of clay by the poor native Mexicans who had an abundance of sugar but no money for expensive statues or figurines for their Day of the Dead alters. [Source]
  • Other Catholic countries celebrate the two days after Halloween as All Souls Day and All Saints Day, but the European versions of this holiday are not the same owing to the fact that indigenous Mexicans melded aspects of their traditional Day of the Dead and the Catholic holiday of vaguely similar theme. [Source]
  • The Day of the Dead can be traced back to a celebration of the Aztec goddess Mictecacihuatl, the Lady of the Dead who was said to have been sacrificed to the underworld as an infant where she grew to adulthood in death. [Source]
  • This is a two day holiday, with the first day dedicated to all the children who have died, and the second to all the adults. Despite this sad theme, the tone of the holiday is bright and happy since our dead relatives are with us again.
  • The celebration is most common in Central and South Mexico, and wasn’t celebrated or even well known in the Northern region until migration brought the tradition in the 20th century. [Source]
  • The phrase “Dia de los Muertos” is actually an anglophone back-translation of “Day of the Dead” into Spanish from English. The proper way to say this holiday’s name is “Dia de Muertos

I’m sure about half of this is wrong. Although it does actually make me feel a little better that I have no clue about the Day of the Dead. By all accounts, my family is from Baja and moved to America in the 20th century. Although those accounts, like me, are probably crap so who even knows.

Fall Intensifies

Tonight I ate pumpkin spice mochi ice cream and I am not sorry, because it was hella good.

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I was worried that the ice cream would be overly sweet, but it wasn’t. It was spice forward, abut also took the time to showcase the pumpkin, which a lot of pumpkin pie flavored stuff fails to do.

Otherwise, it was your standard mochi, chewey and delicious.

10/10 would pumpkin again.